CRASH__paulina (blindsuicide) wrote in cinematicverses,

what seems like old coffee stains are streaked across the floor.
the purity of the ground has been dyed along
with the lining of the walls that are spray-painted in black.
no sparkles, no glow around the rim;
not a dim hint of a glazed-over artificial lighting.
there's not much to look forward to now.
honestly, there was never anything to look behind for.
for a split second, I may see it from the corner of my eye
but it's gone faster than a tear that falls to the pores of a cheek.
there's a polaroid from days ago lying in the corner of the room.
it's aged worse than faint memories I stole from you.
the edges are burnt, with the scent of alcohol seeping in the air.
the pink colored ashes that drop to the floor seem to have a blood-stained tint
like it's been beneath your fingertips when you bit your nails to the quick.
oh, I taste your scent as I take these ashes in like I tend to do.
may I mention it's ever so beautifully tragic to know you?
I give thanks to you, but not willingly.
it sticks to my brain to know
I stole nothing but your pathetic longing from you.
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