Time doesn't change, people do.A Poem by Julianna Marie
Your teeth chatter and your hands shake,
I've never seen you try so hard to sit so still. Your teeth chatter and your hands shake, don't blame it on the weather-- the winter's never that long. I can feel your body temperature rise with every forgotten word, but you still need my skin as a blanket, and it looks so nice on you, it looks so nice on you. You'll try and forget me in the morning, but my name is etched into your veins; you'll bleed through me, but never bleed me out. And now you're waking up lonely, with your smile painted on in powdered white, and your personal aroma of cheap beer and cigarettes-- You have become everything you promised you would never be. The spinning never stops, the bathroom floor only gets colder, without my skin as a blanket, without my air in your lungs. You said you're breathing just for one, because it was all a fantasy, especially what you loved. When your air runs out, and your lungs fade to black, you'll wake up lonely and realize you're not as strong as you thought. And your eyes, they only blink when they cry, but its not a weakness, it only means you're alive. But are you? Egg white pupils and your coffee ground beard, but all I can see when I look at you is powdered white. The shaking never stops, the shaking never stops, don't blame it on the weather-- the winter's never that long. I lost you once and I lost myself. I lost you once, you lost yourself first-- Its easier to breathe just for one, when the other was just a parasite in my lungs, but the air's not as nice, when it hasn't touched your lips. I go to bed lonely, and realize I'm not as strong as I thought. My eyes, they only blink when they cry, and I fight to tell you that I'm alive. I'll bleed through you, and by God, I'll bleed you out: Scars keep us apart, scars keep us apart-- there's no room in your vacant heart.
© 2010 Julianna Marie |
StatsAuthorJulianna MarieSeattle, WAAboutI'm a 21 year old girl living in Seattle, student/poet/barista. I believe in art, poetry, psychology, and music-- I don't think its safe to believe in much else. more..Writing
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