Have F*****g Fun Finding Someone New To Play With Your Obvious Problems

Have F*****g Fun Finding Someone New To Play With Your Obvious Problems

A Poem by Wasteofpaint666

Crazy. Say that word. Hold it like you hold your breath before I tilt my face away from yours and push my way out of your dented, rumbling truck. Crazy.

You see it in the sway of my hips. Crazy. You can feel each syllable crush in your jaw. You grind every word against your teeth as your tires squeal away from the curb. Admit what we both know then: you think that i’m f*****g crazy.

I am. I am a razorblade placing its sharp edge against a tightrope. I am shaking thighs and long goodbyes and god in hopeless places. I am lipstick and incense and punches and the salt of tears that smear against your chest in the middle of the night. I am f*****g crazy.

But you will miss this. At night, staring at your walls, you will wonder about me �" the girl who swallows gasoline and spits fire back. The girl with the lace and smeared makeup. When love makes a fool of you �" time and time again, as you chase after truths you know you will never be able to find �" you will wonder about me, the crazy girl, and realize something.

You are crazy, too. You know it in your bones like you know your name. You whisper love stories to crazy into your pillowcases before bed. You are f*****g crazy.

Craziness can fill a room. It fills every inch, every atom in our bodies with starlight. The world breathes around us, its lungs expanding each time we press our lips together. We alone have created our world, unknown to any map, destination where our lives are in sync and we are f*****g crazy.

You will miss this. You will miss knowing the fire behind my eyes is for you, and only you. You will miss the space our craziness takes up.

You will miss the way crazy can be the only sound in a room, the only thing you feel, the only thing that keeps you grounded. You will miss the reassurance of it �" like knowing the tide will forever return in a system of highs and lows. Dependable. All the best crazies are.

You will f*****g miss me. You do f*****g miss me. You do. You do. You f*****g do.

© 2015 Wasteofpaint666


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Added on November 12, 2015
Last Updated on November 12, 2015
Tags: poem, poetry, personal, love, breakup, self, romance, stupid

Author

Wasteofpaint666
Wasteofpaint666

Portland, OR



About
I treat objects like women, I drink like my dad, and I'm not as cool as you think. I spend more than half my day in head. INTJ, OCD, and BAMF. more..

Writing