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of peculiar flowers/like sound of laughter/fluid in words you could spell/only after lettering down/libations on territories/virgin with mystic bites/of your footsteps/creating gardens/of hope beyond tales

Thursday, October 1, 2015

There are stories

My stomach walls
are flooded with tears

I am full
starved of love, laughter and sex
There is nothing to be said after
Story story story

Sorry

I mean it
For my stories
It was all true, you know?
The way it happened
The way I said it happened

But it hurts you,
My stories hurt you
because you 
want to be
my story

You, saviour
You, all
Me, nothing
without you
Me, yours

Was it the way I told it,  
that I told you,
or that it happened
with me
at the center of it all
being the villain,
cutting myself and losing pieces of me
stinging others and becoming them
trying to sew it back on
the pieces I lost
like a hero
flesh to flesh
blood dripping
scars forming
memories jammed
as I call your name
asking you to stay
when you had already left
not giving a fuck about my story
the way it happened
the way I said it happened