Hey,
I know that now we barely talk
You're still on my mind a lot
Somehow we're separate,
and all of our building blocks have somehow turned to chalk
I'll always miss you
Especially when the nights get dark
I'm gonna wait up and hope that you'll call
Am I on your mind a lot?
Do you think of me at all?
I hope we make it to the next bit
My motivation is hitting a wall
I'll always love you
I promise you will always have every bit of my heart
I promise I'll rebuild these blocks,
so I can write I love you with the chalk
About the Creator
Frankie Martinelli
Musician.
All work is copyrighted, and is my own.
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making space
Since the only thing that might pull us back up is caring, it only makes sense that here, long after I’ve let my anger born of heartbreak and grief misplace, multiply, misdirect itself, let the enormity of my solitude turn into something I don’t know how to dispute with, something thick and heavy and suffocating, let the coldness thrash and fight under my skin, deeper still, in between the arches of my organs; here where the ground is always close and the fall is easy and I surrender to it often, lie without purpose for hours, it only makes sense that it is here, I decide to show up and surrender to the possibilities of the night. Show up to those who I deserted. Drawn to the sense of accomplishment, something I haven’t felt in a while, to memory of finished dish sending its aroma into the world and with it, wrapping the room with a strong sense of sweet nostalgia, I get up and decide to cook. I pick up my phone, type a message that reads “Dinner at mine @ 8PM, don’t bring anything” and before my courage deserts me again, drop it in our friends’ group chat, the way one would do when diffusing a bomb in the movies: one eye closed, snip at the wire, hoping for the best.
By Mesh Toraskarabout 14 hours ago in Feast
Comments (1)
So cute