When I Leave You Behind

Leave me here with the birds and the trees. And I’ll sing a haunting tune that reminds me of you. You pulled me drunkenly through the quiet streets, promising to always kiss me goodbye, even if you were mad. We’d make it through the door and collapse beside each other on the bed, out of breath with our arms touching. We would stare up at the cracks on the ceiling, wondering if that’s what heart break looked like. Your fingers would find mine and I’d pretend not to notice while you kissed my skin until your soft mouth met mine. And then the sheets would wrap endlessly around us while our bodies created an ecstasy no drug could ever provide. I fell in love with you during one of those nights.

I loved you long before you admitted that you loved me too. It was cold and we were curled up on the couch next to the fireplace, your gray eyes reflecting the sky outside. You whispered to me what I had been waiting to hear and I kissed you until the sun set and the fire was a pile of embers. And when you got a tattoo of a rose as a tribute to me, I cried. Because when I saw it stained on your skin I saw a piece of me that would always be with you. But not even tattoos can last forever. I bet that you’ll come up with some insignificant story when your kids ask about it. God forbid they ever know that you once told me about the way my eyes used to bring you out of your drunken stupor while you shouted promises I knew you’d never keep.

Those empty promises are why I’m here with my toes hanging over the ledge, waiting for the courage only you could give me. I bet you’ll fake a laugh when they tell you what I did. You’ll say I was always dramatic and you’ll be ashamed that you ever loved me. Then they’ll tell you that I had a rose clutched in my fist. The same fist you used to kiss when we would fight and I tried to hit you but never could. And then you’ll shed a tear for my eyes and write a tortured tune and sing it to a pretty girl who would take my place in your arms. I bet you’ll think of me everyday, especially in spring when the roses bloom and you’re stumbling home in the dark without my hand to guide you. You’ll keep a picture of me, as worn out as your tattoo, and look at it when you’re feeling sad, because I was the only one who could make you laugh during your darkest days.

I hope she’ll be jealous because she’s not me. Because she’ll know I meant the world to you, even if you never tell her that. You’ll promise her that you never think of my eyes and that your tattoo was a stupid thing you did when you were young. But before you go to sleep you’ll see me, and you’ll smile to yourself because I loved you more than anything in this world. And baby, I hope that one day you’ll know why I left you behind.

I wish you knew that when my feet brought me over the ledge I was thinking of you the entire time. I wish you knew that when I broke like the bottle I once threw at your head, it was the best feeling in the world. I didn’t hurt anymore. Nothing hurt. I am no longer someone who lost the most precious thing in the world. The doctor’s words are no longer on repeat in my mind and I don’t have to look into your eyes and know that I put that sadness there. I don’t have to live with the fact that my body turned against me and the tiny life inside of me. And baby, I know you’ll find someone who can give you what you need. Because after all, I’m just a discolored blemish on your skin, a love that was beautiful until the roses died and I was left there with the birds and the trees, singing a haunting tune that reminded me of you.

Eros – Short Story

I should have known he’d be the one. I should have known his eyes weren’t blue, but black, and his voice wasn’t inviting, but compelling. I should have known he’d be the one to kill me. But his hands were soft yet strong, and when his fingers slid across my skin I thought there was no better ecstasy. I was lost in those deceitful eyes with no intention of finding my way out. When he told me he loved me, I believed him. The days were made for rolling around in the sheets. The nights made for drinking elixir from dark bottles, consuming the whiteness that made us feel invincible. Flashing neon lights illuminated our dilated eyes and the music carried our bodies until the sun met the horizon and we were stumbling home. I thought he was my home.

I also thought that when his fist broke the glass in a blinding rage, I could fix him. But his wounds weren’t healing and his blood was staining my hands. I learned not to ask him where he went during the night, when I would find myself standing alone in a bathroom with music vibrating through the walls. I would wait for him to come find me and whisk me home, where I would forget he ever left. In the morning I would wake up to a red rose and kisses down my back. I should have known that the roses and laughter wouldn’t last. I should have known that the man I loved had secrets that no human being could hold inside without losing their sanity. Still, I remained by his side to kiss his cheek.

And then the bad days became more than the good, and those flashing lights began to scare me. The alcohol tasted like blood and the white lines gave me nightmares. The nights began to haunt him too and I would awake to his cries with nothing to calm him but stolen pills. And then his bloodshot eyes turned into a dark abyss, and his voice only held menace. His hands weren’t soft anymore and though his fingers would still trace the shadows on my skin, all his touch left behind were burnt trails of hopelessness. He would disappear more and more, claiming he had to. He had to give himself to those who needed it. I didn’t understand what he meant at the time. Not until my last moments with him did I know who he was. He would come home with black and blue tattoos on his knuckles and though I would kiss them and wrap them up he wouldn’t speak about them. He would stare into the broken bathroom mirror and challenge his distorted reflection to end the pain.

And when my bones began to scream at me to run I silenced them by kissing him so deeply that for a moment I thought he had returned to me. I couldn’t deny that my heart had his name scratched into it, and my hands always found his in the dark. And on my last night on earth, I stared up at the moon and hummed my favorite melody until it gave me the strength to walk away. With each step, my eyes burned and my mind spun. And then he was in front of me and I was screaming,

“I’m sorry!”

And he was saying “I forgive you darling.”

I took his face between my hands and whispered, “Baby let me go.”

And that’s when I looked past those sad eyes and saw the desperation only true lovers can feel. His love for me was all he had left. And then he was crying and his fingers tangled in my hair as his lips reminded me of all that we had. I should have known those fingers would tease their way down to my neck. I should have known those hands, once so gentle against my skin, would curl around my throat. All I could think about was how fucked up it was that I still adored his touch. Suddenly I understood. I understood why he was the one.

He was love, and though it was a burden for him, he still said my name as if I was his last hope on this fucked up earth. I understood why he did it. Why he couldn’t let me go. I was the only person who could love him for who he was. I loved him even with the deathly pressure of his fingers against my throat. He hurt himself so he wouldn’t hurt me. Until I betrayed him by trying to break our promises. With my last breath, I felt hatred for those rapacious love crazed people who took piece after piece of him until there was nothing left for himself. Nothing left for me. Eros baby, I’m sorry I let go. I’ll see you soon and we’ll rule the sky.

This is a short story I’ve been working on in my Fiction Writing class. Please let me know what you think, your feedback is greatly appreciated. Thank you! 

Killin Lily Bloody In Some Blood Ink Doom

This is an Anagram assignment I did for class using a phrase from my favorite song, “Me” by The 1975: “I nearly killed somebody”

Irksomely lonely dark

Real bloodied ink

Led bared in my kills

A bided miser look

Embodied loner, Lily

A loomin bedside

No, likely disobeyed

Look, a blinded leer

My bookended sear

My bloody kill is near

Lily, no! I’m real!

Yells in my ear

Near disembody lie

Disrobed like an eel

Real bloodied ink

Killin somebody early

Slayer doom in bed

Bedlam is on, Lily is no more