got no problem with watching a full season of tv in one sitting but when it comes time to pick a movie im like “am i really ready to pay attention to something for two hours”
I’m sorry I don’t know
how to talk to you anymore.
I keep trying to shape my lips into the tight neck of a bottle
so you will pour your secrets
into me with ease,
but choke on all my memories of you
throwing up whiskey on school nights.
Lately, I’ve been putting myself to sleep
by counting all of the times I could
have been more for you,
but sharing a bed with my failures
only leaves me with a pounding head and
roller coaster stomach in the morning.
Whose hangover is worse?
Your beer-sickness or
my tearful “if only” nausea?
Are you teasing me now,
by only showing me your childhood smile
when you’re halfway to the toilet,
with your stomach hot from a bottle of rum and pills?
The sight of it always makes me
reach for you, but all I ever catch is air.
This is all I have to show for trying
to love your ghost-
empty arms and bags under my eyes
from listening to your withdrawal shakes all night.
And yet, I’d rather you haunt me than say ‘goodbye.’
— How Can You Haunt Me If You’re Still Here | Lora Mathis (via lora-mathis)
Riding in his car,
with his hand creeping up my thigh,
he tells me that I’m a mystery.
He wants to know
who I was before he touched me,
so he plucks the name of each
past lover from my mouth.
But I am not a graveyard where
mens’ touches have come to die.
There are no tombstones
inside of me, waiting for someone to
blow the dust off of them.
My chest does not come with
names and dates etched into it, so please,
quit looking for the face of each of my ghosts.
There is more to me
than who I have loved.
You will not
learn who I am
by learning how I’ve
— I Am Not Another Place You Can Die In | Lora Mathis (via lora-mathis)