Work Text:
★☆★
memory
by m.k.b
I miss being in love. i can’t remember it anymore, how it felt.
I want to remember. i want to tell you all the songs i loved because of you, the notebooks i filled with poetry, everything.
do you even want to hear it?
i’m so alone here i can’t even remember how much you hated me. I only know of your absence.
have I got it all wrong? do you want me around?
nights here go on endlessly- i cannot remember your face, your name.
when I am able to fall asleep it is fitful. flashes of kissing your knuckles, waking up in your warm bed, your arms wrapped around me- then leaving. it always ends with me, alone.
★☆★
want
by m.k.b
i just want to be good for you.
i’d want to be wanted in return for once. do you want me?
now that I know your softer side, a rare occurrence, it is hard to go back.
you let me see something different, and i am grateful.
will it always be like this?
love is something like a tug of war, taking and taking till there is nothing left.
unreturned love is something wholly different, a game of giving, hoping, guilt.
★☆★
obsession
by m.k.b
i walk these hazy streets, slick with rain and oil.
i wish you were here with me.
everything i do, i wish you were by my side.
what is unrequited love if not isolation?
something to pass the time, until it turns, sharp and violent, consuming you whole.
the first time i ever saw you, i knew.
you walked in and i saw your black-brown hair running down your steady shoulders, your hands laced with scars and golden rings.
you became my obsession, the vision in all my dreams.
will i ever learn to like in moderation?
you and your dark shadow cast upon me, it was all i thought about.
it is all i think about.
★☆★
???
by m.k.b
all i have ever known is quiet embrace, holding someone simply because im scared they might break-
muffled sobs, heaving forms, tired eyes
i’m getting tired of being here
i don’t get why others are scared of you,
i have seen you and i am unafraid.
your eyes glassy, your hands bloodstained and blackened,
you’ve become a comfort to me.
i hope it isn’t blasphemous to say i feel like i’m haunting my own body.
★☆★
want
by m.k.b
everything i do is
still a love letter to you
one that i won’t send,
that i’ll keep tucked in my back pocket, only for the insignificant but so very significant -isms to be washed away next laundry load.
or, one that will stay hidden between
decaying paperbacks, (or torn into shreds.)
maybe someone will find it.
maybe someone will remember me.