There is this hell inside me where the flames are mesmerising
it’s shape fits your outline
that grows and shrinks every time you walk in, walk out.
Tell you what,
i’ll be the empty house and you be the ghost.
I’ll keep my favourite illusions about us in tiny glass jars
like portable mausoleums.
What do you want for dinner?
I’m leaving you
Shall we watch The 7:30 Report?
You’ll never seen me again
I’ve made your favourite dessert
You can keep the house
The funny trajectory of feelings.
They rise up, you take note, they fall away
some don’t fall away
becoming embedded in your bloodstream
and there’s my only enemy right there
and no matter how much I vacuum the cracks in the floor, my childhood just doesn’t change
but maybe, just maybe if i do everything the opposite way i was taught, i might survive.
I thought you were the face of that new way,
my very own swashbuckling hero
but after awhile, getting your hopes up
becomes an extreme sport in itself.
If only i knew this: the best way to keep our romance alive is never getting to know each other.
Refunds for emotional disappointment should be a thing
and weddings should happen under water,
the suffocating non-air
can break you in for your future.
You’re working back again?
What’s her name?
You know, there’s a freedom that comes with being forgotten
I can relax and become a mountain again
free of perfecting myself
to outshine all your golden girls
who compete for the crown in your secret world.
I would cry about it,
but i bought 80 pairs of shoes instead,
It will show up on your bank statement.