"When one door closes another opens,
But often we look so long,
So regretfully upon the closed door,
We fail to see the one that has opened for us."
He compared you to an emergency exit door
with sealed gaps around its four corners.
There are days when he imagines your face
close to a set of cosmetics opened for testing,
as though leaving yourself half-glittering with dust
will make him kiss you twice as much
before sleeping. He never said goodnight.
He sometimes had you waiting in fast food parking lots,
not knowing how much you hate salt,
and anything that will make it harder for your body
to decompose when its underground.
You never thought he was a rough draft of a novel
that would probably go unfinished. If anything,
he was a parcel of half-written thoughts on paper
that you wanted so badly to become a song.
There are nights when the bathroom smelled like aftershave
you just stayed there until morning. He didn’t ask you to to to bed.
Your body was mostly painted on those canvas sheets,
two-thirds of which smelled of you, and not of him,
nor of you and him altogether. Two weeks ago you realized
you were both making it harder to live, and a lot easier to not,
forgetting that you’re not suppose to think of old fairy tales,
when you think of him and when you think of love.
|My thoughts before anything:||maybe if i wasn't ugly|
But actually I was so naive…
My life is changing so much, and I don’t know what to do with myself.