you were always being practical

you never did anything if it wasn't logical

always using the other bathroom instead of the one closest to the theatre

cause "there's always a line." so i waited for you by that giant cylinder
alone
i swear i would have walked right up to that ****** with you if it meant i didn't have to be
alone.

holding hands constantly cause it was my proof that you loved me
life line. whenever you let go that indigo line beneath my translucent skin would beg to run red.
but i grabbed back on just in time to save myself.
save myself.
from who?

you. you're *****

disgusting
sick

don't touch me

i don't know who else has felt it

you swore, you meant it
you cried
my father still wears sunglasses when he's in the same room as my mother
and his hands have long since dried up from the night michael died
boys don't cry.

swallowed my pride every time i swallowed you
bitter
even though i knew
better
in the back of my head
but giving head was better than you
losing your head and this is my fault
i was crazy
i saw a shrink. i was fabricating these things.

i saw this coming, i saw this coming, coming, *******, going

away.

three weeks ago you saw the ruins of my people
the souls of dead mayans embedded into the sagging stone steps
i heard them scream my name as you crept to the top
and with a sigh you took it in
majestic, isn't it?
never seen something so
real before

what? like it was some sort of rare sight?

why? you saw my ruins all the time

are you blind?
blind?
blind
blind i can't see
i can't see you anymore
i can't see you anymore.
i....i can't see you anymore but i feel you under my covers
your toes discovering the places my feet have danced
and your mocha frappuccino skin crashing over my snow white like a wave
your fingers brushing over my zebra stripes asking why, not knowing that those same fingers put them there

i'm not breaking

you can drop your hammer now


when i was 14

i walked home with the taste of cherries in my mouth and

i didn't eat for three days just so i could

be with you.

was it because i wouldn't forget my weekends

inside red cups and fake friends

or wouldn't snort lines and --

nevermind.

that only happened once or twice.

i saved you from that avalanche.

i promised i would try every time

and even when i was hacking away at my skin,

trying to find an answer from within

and i wiped the blood across the dresser

and drew pictures of you and her.

and her.

and her.

and him.

maybe it was your pain more than mine.