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I will write these demons out of meor I will bleedor drinkor fuck my wayto the end of ittil I am bone dryand numbI would rather feel nothingthan all this everything at once the blood& the bones
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They all think what I write is about them. Whoever the last love was or the one that thinks he’s the one that got away. And he is right but so are they. Everything I have given you here, every story told or beautifully painful thing I’ve written is for any boy that ever had…
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what it must be like to be beautiful… the blood & the bones
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time is of no consequence to me it is never the defining factor when something is real I could love you more in days than I loved him in years the blood & the bones
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Someday I will be someone And you will be a part of what made me the blood & the bones
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if you are ever wondering I am right where you left me and in case you have forgotten the way look for the breadcrumbs in my poetry the blood & the bones
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I watch his lips move around the words I love you. I watch his eyes as they fall from them. I close mine. Absorbing the cadence of his voice. Over and over, press play.. Again. Again. I pretend that he meant it. I let myself believe that he did. It had been so long since…
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i still feel you herein my chestin my bonesit is a blessing and a curse and i pray it never endseven though we didfor it is the only wayi can keep you with me the blood& the bones
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Anyone can be a writer or a poet.But you’re not going to feel everything everyone puts out and you’re not going to remember the stuff that was easily digested or produced for the masses.Not everything will get inside you, disturb you or satiate you as great writing should.It’s the writers who make you feel it…
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I know that sex sellsBut so does painThey eat it upAs you use pages like bandages You’re looking for some kind of healing And their just here to get high Or hard Or healing through your heartacheBegging for moreJust one more scoreAddicted to how you’re broken the blood & the bones
The Blood & The Bones 