lately

I like to play
With spider webs in the dark
Soft tickles and harsh bites
I tend to forget lately
What the frame looks like
Behind closed eyes
I listen to the trickle on the window ledge
Kiss my lips in the shower
My damp hair in the morning
My pillows aren’t soft
or cool enough to soothe
My burnt fingertips

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White Hills, Cold Nights

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White hills
Cold nights
My father always drives
Too fast
But is always
On.
Time.
Longer nights
Red wine
My room is quiet
Whilst she screams outside
Red breath
Green trees
My mother slipped on the ice once
And I laughed
Cold windows
Broken hearts
She threw the glass
On the kitchen floor
My fists clenched
White hills
Cold days
We were younger once
I didn’t need to speak as much
And you didn’t need to fake a smile
Warm pillows
Wet hair
I don’t have words
To catch
You