Thursday

The brave may not live forever, but the cautious never live

Lets be real.

I don't draw my boundaries around me like security blankets, like you do.

Dripping soul. I drip drip drip soul onto your carpet and your bedsheets, maybe you will smell it after I leave.
Or maybe you'll walk through it like its nothing even though it fluoresces on the soles of your thick feet
The same way that nature marks her poisonous creatures
How could you ignore such a garish warning?
I don't know girl, but I did. I must be blind. Or Naive.
Or foolish to not realize that rank in your room, on your sheets, on your neck
Wasn't the expensive cologne sitting proudly on your counter,
But maybe was the rot of all the other soul that has been wasted on you.
That oozed from open heart wounds, and disappointment, and broken illusions, and the regret
of every long gone girl that sat right here on this side of your bed that you call 'my side'
I must be dumb to not realize that this seat is so comfortable, not because you are so inviting, but because it was warmed it for me by the girl who was here right before me, just as I am warming it now for the one you'll invite over as soon as I have my shirt on.