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WITHERING ROSES

We're like withering roses me and you.
This relationship isn't big enough for the both of us.
It’s sad that some people suffocate in love or somewhere between it.
Someone asked me what being in love feels like.
I can't remember. All I remember is the consuming fear of losing you.
Remind me darling. 

I hate it when scars fade.
That's when I forget all the burns, cuts and bruises.
That's when I fall into your arms, forgetting that their safety once suffocated me. 
That you once wept as you watched your too tight grasp leave me gasping and clawing at you. 
Too selfish and scared to let go just a little.

They won't stop asking why I won't leave you. 
I've resolved to answering, "I'm a poet. What would I write about if not being in love with a man that thinks I'm pathetic"
But we both know it’s nice to come back and be a mess again.
I told you you're a lucky man.
I didn't tell you I'm a lucky woman too.
Maybe that's why you forgot to call me back last night.

I got a new bed last year. This one was supposed to never smell like you. But even the new sheets remind me of how we slept angry, you drunk and snoring back turned towards me while I stared at the ceiling crying and smiling as you inched towards me. I woke up with your arms around me. In my new bed. It made me happy.

I used to remember your smell. I don't anymore. Why is that?
You like wine. I like whiskey.
You never used to smoke. I never used to dance.
I out grew being scared. So maybe that's why I'm not screaming this time while you're throwing me off the edge.
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