Fight for Us

I always thought we’d find our way back together, somehow, sometime, someplace.                                                                                    And we did. But we were older and we had changed.

You had made me cold.

You left. You were always good at walking away.

You did not look back this time.

You should have told me that you wanted to fight.

Keaton

You were cushion dimples and

creased white sheets,

forgotten books under a canopy bed.

We slept back to back

Our little fortress in tact

But with no intimacy.

We settled,

Rushing through chapters

Just a quick page turn

before the happy ending with somebody else.

 

The silence.

The stay or go…

Be sweltering hot or freeze?

Let’s sit on the fence for years.

 

The tensed arm around my shoulders

The cliché in the movie theatre

My too-high pitched giggle

The smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes,

That I love you kiss that felt more like you are comfortable to me.

The familiar taste of coffee on your mouth,

Flat white,

We kissed with eyes open.

It wasn’t love that we had and we knew it.

It wasn’t anything, anymore.

But why do I still stay with you, when it’s true you’re not really the one?

And why don’t I just keep on looking for him?

Because once I found him, but now he is gone.

He Wore Forgiveness Well

A soul mate is the one who can drag you giggling with forgiveness from the cellar they locked you in.
– SierraDeMuller

 

He wore forgiveness well.

with his half smile and buttoned up shirt

the slight hesitation before he kissed my cheek

the half-hearted apology

 

Ex’s come back to haunt

Dead bodies rise up to the surface in the end

Even when you spend your life burying them

The ghosts in the closet were part of you

You broke my pretty red heart in two.

 

But

He wore forgiveness well.

with his half smile and buttoned up shirt

the slight hesitation before he kissed my cheek

the half-hearted apology.

 

 

-Tina Rose

 

 

The Leech

The

Leech.

Blood letting

but ornamental

black horned devil

shiny black exterior

slick with tar

ridged

but with the smoothest of words

the slimy semantics

gasping

hair pulling

Kisses to neck

sucking

Breasts wet with sweat

From caressing to biting

From wanting to leeching

my Hirudotherapy necessity

You were a double standard

paradox,

all in black.

Your teeth latched

to my heart,

A contradiction

holding my throat,

‘I’m no Romeo or Prince Charming,

darling,

Just a black, empty soul.’

Broken Wings

 

‘You’re like a broken bird’, he said.

‘I want to fix you up and set you free.’

I said, ‘what if I’m not worth saving?’

He replied, ‘but you are.’

He paused. ‘It’s ok to be a little broken you know.’

-Tina Rose

When You Said You Could Not Stay

And all the words you ever said,

They all reside inside my head.

The promises you made,

The memories

They fade.

The songs we did not play,

The kisses gone to waste

When you said you could not stay.

-Tina Rose

I can still feel your arms even now

Maybe I wouldn’t be so messed up in the head

If we’d never met,

Knowing that night I should have left,

But I clung to your bed

With my head on your chest.

I can still feel your arms,

Even now.

-Tina Rose

The Breaths She Took

 

And in wishing to be loved by him,

She forgot about all the people

That did love her

That did want her.

The hearts she stole

And shattered

Without meaning to.

The breaths she took,

The tears she left.

She was so blinded

in search for him,

That she saw no other.

-Tina Rose

His Eyes Were Cold

But your chapter in my life is at an end,

But I promise to miss you until we meet again.

And when they ask,

I’ll say it was not love, but it could have been.

I’ll say your eyes were cold

And mine too warm.

-Tina Rose

Monday Mornings

You reminded me of a Monday morning cigarette break

That between awake and asleep

Feeling

Wishing

the day away

With my rolled-up heart

Charred around the edges

 Wishing for white sheets and plump pillows

But lusting for the blackness

That came with your presence.

Your kiss with its darkness

And your charcoal throat

The same warmth

that arrived with a raspy inhalation

of smoke through nose to chest,

My tar lungs and cigarette breath.

Burnt out amber

Of orange and black  

Sparks against pavement

The miniature fireworks

Under my fake Laboutin shoe.

You were my

Narcotic, Insomniac Addiction

Darling, Come Monday morning

I thought of you.

-Tina Rose