I’m chewing sad words and spitting them out because the truth tastes sour.

I want to fall in love with an architect and have him build me a house out of every regret so that I can burn it down with a single match. Everyone would say that I used him for the blueprints, but I love when they talk shit, because I’m here for the taking.

I’m walking in circles for miles, only to realize I’ve been in your shoes the entire time. I mean, don’t your legs get tired? I guess your used to running away. I always write poems about “getting better”, and I’m not sure what that’s supposed to feel like, but here’s what I’ve learned: playing with fire doesn’t always mean you get burned. My calloused palms can strike a match. If I had such power, I’d throw embers at the sky and watch smoke billow around me.

I think you felt my presence before you saw me- sadness has a way of reaching through you, just like fire. So please help me find my way home. I’ve been roaming in circles trying to follow clues that really mean nothing- did the light flicker, or did you blink too fast? Maybe ghosts aren’t that clever, after all. I’m screaming at you again. Asking why you choose to care after all this time. I’m chewing sad words and spitting them out because the truth tastes sour.

-AMT ©️