It’s been a long while and I’m still thinking about you.

They are sick of hearing me talk about you.

I’ve been with others but nobody compares to you.

I am bound. To you.

Today I heard of news and fought against my instinct

to rush to you and put my head beside yours

and tell you the things they will never know.


But I know some happiness of mine is nothing

more than your emotional demise,

unstable, a liar accusing another of lying.

Everything is my fault? I am to bear your negatives

and hide my loves from you–for you judge,

for you fight, for you terrify. You terrify me .

You berate and control, tie me to the anchors of your

twisted heart.


I love you. I love you and I dread you.

You lift me through suffocation then cut me into the waters

of your created hell. Miscommunication is our

communication. We scream about him, scream together

to him, scream about him and about it, about what could have been.

We knew it wouldn’t last and yet we tried.


Because I heard the strange sounds

that bounced from your mind. Because

I saw the colors that danced from your silver

lips. Because you smelt like nostalgia and

the touch of your stare still shivers

through my vulnerable spine.


It’s not over. Death is the mother of beauty.

Death is the mother of beauty, but

we were born motherless.

2 thoughts on “Miscommunication

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s