you use up my tears

now there's nothing but dry sobs

as I sit choking up

vanilla-flavored shards of my heart.

I'm not an idiot,

but I am when I'm with you.

You puncture my neck:

watch me bleed, you always do.

I don't get the term 'broken'.

I think we can always be fixed,

but my hand twitched

in time to the heartbeat in your palm.

(there is no heartbeat

in your palm;

there was only frozen movement,

fidgeting to your favorite song;

(it played over and over all night long.))

now I've grown soft,

my sobs aren't real?

not even I know how to feel.

fuck have you ever

I mean

has your skin

ever stung

not from cold

but from

his palm

fingers

tendons

muscles

striking at your cheek

I mean

fuck

could you

just imagine his

broken eyes

the moment it

hits him

you used to be so in love

fuck

I'm an idiot

how could he

how did we

have you ever

could you

I mean

if he said he was sorry

soft the way

things were

before words

were a broken record

before wrists

were held instead of hands

before fists

were weapons

before vanilla

Ice cream tasted like blood

cause now

fuck

now everything sweet

has turned sour

and

I mean

could you

would he

forgive me?

Isolation is not for the idiot,

broken slabs of sorrow

moistened by the rain,

no sign of the suns

needle point breakthrough

a puncture

to a raised palm,

alone disguising himself

in clothes so vanilla plain

he becomes in indistinct,

until another comes

with words used

as a way

to reach ears

not wanting to listen,

and a soft touch

on a fallen shoulder

We fumble around googly eyed

An Idiot believing in fairytale endings

But reality is messy like vanilla ice cream on a summer day

Leaving us broken

used up

Sobbing

Palm to the floor

Aching for a soft embrace

Only finding emptiness

We are dying from all the puncture wound left in our hearts

she's broken

yet I refuse to help her

oh what an idiot

I must be

how can I see her

like this

so fragile

so torn

so used

her soft soul bruised

and I can't believe that

I've punctured her

and I can't fix her

my palms itch

but I feel far from lucky

oh, how I will miss her

and her vanilla scented perfume