2020, you were the worst lover

you're the one that screwed us over; i gave us a chance, painted the vision soft on your palms; it was you who washed it off.

beginning relationships // constellation blind.

you held blind trust against my eyelids as i felt your hands on my hips, i thought your laughter tickling my ears was pure sincerity; no, i didn't suspect it then to be pure mockery at the unforeseen irony. so when you showed me the midnight you had crafted on the first of january, darling, i penciled in stars and hearts. who would've known i was blind to the constellations you were making, you stole my stars once i moved on to another and sew them together into something far more. and i never noticed anything until the quilt was done and you suffocated me with my own dreams.

struggling relationships // celebrating cruelty.

i once praised words are pieces of art, but old habits die easy when your lover grows cranky. and so i traced the phrase in the air, my lips pursed as i watched my heart scratch against the shattered glass. "happy anniversary, you're drunk." but you're just shaking your head and leaning in, wondering i won't kiss such a forgiving man. carefully i slipped the card from Wal-mart off the bed, told him he was sickening, something i couldn't stand. "

ending relationships // inevitability tastes bland.

it was like i couldn't even remember why i loved you i just know i do; that's the pain of loving you. and long-distance sucks but i've met couples who pull through, but not us, no, not you-you just acted the part when the camera rolled but the space felt like it was wasting you away. i tried, i truly did, but why leave the house when the world scares you? so when time came to pick up the pace, i shoved my ballot in his face: "i vote for my saving grace." it wasn't you, that much i know is true.

remembering // the ghost's name is nostalgia.

lyrics cry every night you promised to hold me tight just to forget the knife you left in my spine (careful, blood stains easy). and you mirror rejection ugly, quite unbecoming, like how the publishers told me my prose wasn't worth collecting. but i've learned to adore a me without you, regardless of the time it was taking (and how it's still a tad heartbreaking).

i should've known it was over the day i met you; i was far too excited for that fairy tale ending; you had such the audacity, it was appalling.