A ghost town.
I can't describe it any other way.
The street lights are still glowing even though the sidewalk hasn't kissed the feet of anyone that wasn't just passing through in a while.
I don't know how to draw it out as anything other than abandonment.
The only one left is me, and I am not the best company to the hollow hallways and broken buildings that were left to fend for themselves.
Trust me.
I'm trying to describe it the best I can, but I have no idea how to portray the quiet of an empty home.
This ******* town is full of people, but I'm the only one.
I'm the only one who writes eulogies for the ones that are just passing through.

We're in a car going twenty too fast on the highway, and I don't know where we're headed. Maybe the headlights will take us to a home where we've never lived or maybe somewhere where the flames aren't as shallow. Rain has been beating the windows for at least four hours, and I can almost see lightning through all the cigarette smoke. He says that he can see clearer than ever. I swear ever since the radio lost signal, I've basically been able to hear the stardust in every shallow breath he takes.  I can't believe all it took was a broken radio to see him for the kind of words he was meant to be. The kind that rip apart a person's heart when they finally read them the way they were always meant to be read. His name is just a noise, and his face is only skin, but the fault lines etched into his bones make me want to believe there are more earthquakes inside him than he thinks. He makes me want to believe there's something more to life than his fingers wrapping themselves around mine as the car wraps itself around a tree.

You had me. At three in the morning. When we sat in the car for hours so we could listen to the rain as it hit the windshield. When the sun was beating on my back, begging for attention. Whenever you'd put your hands in your front pockets and rock back on your heels. When I realized that every step you took caused an earthquake. When you kissed me like your life depended on it. When you said that it did. When you told me you loved me for the first time in a grocery store parking lot. When you'd call me at 2:37 in the morning to tell me that every tree you see reminds you of me. When every cigarette your fingers touched turned to dust. When you told me you missed me too. You had me.

An addict with a pen.  That’s all I’ll ever make myself out to be.  That’s all I’ll ever know myself to be.  You’ve gotten into my bloodstream, and I don’t know how to get you out of every poem I put my mind to.  I don’t know how many poems I have left in me with you as my only material.  I don’t know what the hell I’m doing writing without you next to me, and I don’t know how writing is the love of my life when the only thing I write about is you.  They say that with every small disaster, a war turns to your muse, but who ever knew that my muse would put up this much of a fight?

a love so passionate
that the ocean loses its peace and
the seven wonders of the world
become natural disasters.
look at the map,
and show me where the soles of
your boots hit pavement.
show me the church where
your heart was laid to rest.
that beautiful arson where God
set his own home ablaze.
I can see him crying.

When I die, tell me that my health has hit an all time low. Tell me that's there is no use in looking for the pain in my eyes because it's gone. Look to see if my skin is still made of porcelain. Try to make me laugh. Tell me about your life. Not the life that you let the world see, but the life that only God knows. Check my mailbox on occasion just to see who's written me. Water the plants in my window until they're as dead as me. Dwell on the fact I was always leaving in the middle of the night. Say that I wasn't crazy even though you knew I wasn't all okay. Bury me in the sky, and visit me every Thursday. Give me a reason to have lived.

if you look to your left, you'll see the apologies I left on your machine and the nightmares you gave me when you told me you could never love the girl who didn't love herself. I still don't know what meant because now you're coming back even though I can't feel the warmth of your hands anymore.
and if you look to your right, you can still see the street light where I first saw your ghost stumbling through the darkness. I couldn't quite tell what you were at first. I couldn't tell if you were an angel or otherwise. I couldn't tell if you were a flight risk or otherwise. I couldn't tell if you were truly in love or otherwise.
crane your necks and look to the stars that I'd like to pretend we looked at together because, after all, we were star crossed lovers even though we collided when I couldn't help but mention the way you pulled from me.
look at ground, and watch it crumble like it did when I started falling.