cuorest

[cuorest]

i think ill be 23 one day chilling in a bar alone and a man will come up to me and he’ll smell exactly like you and speak the way you do, and even though he won’t look like you. I’ll sit there and speak to him and take off my glasses because I will be able pretend I had you again.

[cuorest]

i write our initials in a love heart on any surface that it will be seen

i want the world to only know of us together even though we aren’t

[cuorest]

back on the bathroom floor

of my childhood home.

i’m 17 again

and i don’t know what’s next.

[cuorest]

when i’m everything she is and more for him but our blood bleeds different colours

[cuorest]

does he know the ghost of him rests on my shoulder

[cuorest]

i’ll never forget him because he’d like that song, and this movie reminds me of us. he drinks his coffee like that, so i drink mine like him. and even though he doesn’t know me as much as i know him. i know who i am through him. his laugh plays through the morning birds, and i taste his kiss in every cigarette. no hands will feel like his again, and the him i knew dies with me.

[cuorest]

i don’t care if you’re drunk and it probably means nothing, but you’re touching me and i’m happy.

[cuorest]

the look of love, the rush of blood.

[cuorest]

there’s no way you don’t feel this way too

[cuorest]

back to the childhood home:

i’m still thirteen

and

i’m still waiting to leave so i can be someone else

[cuorest]

i’m just a mix of two horrible people who deserved better

[cuorest]

does she know

[cuorest]

travelling to places to find myself,

nowhere makes me feel like i should,

yet i still find the most comfort in my childhood home,

because even though i know nothing about myself,

it knows everything about me.

[cuorest]

I have a habit of leaving my toothbrush places I won’t come back to, just so they can hold onto me a little longer than I could hold onto them.

[cuorest]

Just washed my hair for the last time in my bathtub, never will I sit under the water letting it scold my skin off and feel the way I did today and every other week before.

[cuorest]

Generally I’m ashamed that I can’t speak my mothers tongue well enough, other times I’m okay with it because it means I don’t have to tell her how I feel as she wouldn’t understand. Yet I still wonder even if I could would she understand?

[cuorest]

Changed rooms, in a different city now but the same soft toy from when I was 15 looks over me.

I still can’t tell if it’s proud or ashamed of me, reminds me of my mother.