I can't even be mad at you.
I keep writing down what I want to say to you
and then deleting it all
as if it will help me delete the
anger and sadness and heartbreak and remorse and loneliness
but it doesn't
and after all my words are erased
the whole you left in me when you walked away is still here
and you still aren't.
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 8:26 PM UTC
One of these days,
I swear
you'll text me
and
I won't reply.
Feb 20, 2014
Feb 20, 2014 at 8:58 PM UTC
I've been wanting to text you.
I want to tell you that I miss you.
You texted me
but all we said was hey.
I want to tell you about everything
the way I used to
I want to tell you that
all I've written about is you
and all I've listened to is
your favorite song
by your favorite band
and that I can't eat
because for the first time in months
my stomach is empty of butterflies
and I can't sleep
without you saying goodnight.
But I won't tell you
because you don't care.
So I'll text you back
and make small talk
and I hope you know that it's killing me.
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 6:22 PM UTC
I miss you.
I love you.
I'm sorry.
The three hardest things to say
Describe everything I feel.
I know you don't like that girl you're hooking up with.
And she can't possibly love you,
not like I do.
But I hope you go to her house
and you kiss her like you mean it
and she kisses you back
and I hope you feel how wrong it is.
I really hope you think it's wrong
And I'll be drunk
or high
and definitely alone.
I thought I was the one leaving you.
Was I really just setting you free?
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 5:01 PM UTC
I never thought leaving you would make me feel so alone.
I thought I would be fine without you (I'm not).
There are a million things I can/should be doing.
It all seems pointless without you.
I tried to keep busy, carry on with my life,
but that hurt too much.
So I'm trying not to do much of anything (it still hurts).
The sad part is
you would take me back.
At least,
I think you would.
But how can I tell you how wrong I was?
Would you understand my intentions?
After you see what a mess I've become,
could you still see me as you once did?
I don't think so.
So I'll be alone with my writing
and sad music,
and you'll move on
and be happy
and listen to rad music
and eventually,
you'll leave me (what's left of me).
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 8:52 PM UTC
I keep thinking missing you will get easier.
It doesn't.
If I could give up flowers and all beautiful things
to get you back,
I would do it in a heartbeat.
That is,
if my heart would start beating again.
Until my blunder,
my veins were rivers
and my heart was the ocean,
vast,
thriving,
gently beating with the pull of the tide.
So I thought I was okay,
And I filled the ocean with sand
and cut off the rivers
and all I can do is make sad metaphors
for the pain I feel.
I'm sorry.
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 8:33 PM UTC
my physics book says
since atoms are mostly empty space
nothing can ever really touch
contact is just empty space
upon more empty space
if this is the case
i do not know what it is like to
hold your hand
run my fingers through your vibrant hair
or feel your lips caress mine in a moment of passion
but how can this be true
when i can feel the way
you have
changed my thoughts
healed my mind
and resuscitated my heart
how can they say
my life has not been touched?
even so,
i long for the gap between our atoms to close
for your laughter and kindness and gentle kisses
to fill the crevices of my atoms.
i want to find a way to fill your atoms, too
maybe then
our perfect love will defy physics
and we will collide.
Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 5:37 PM UTC
I know you like the back of my hand
because although I see you everyday,
although I have known you forever,
there is no way I could ever describe you
in a way that paints a picture
and leaves out nothing,
and I do not want to leave out anything.
I want to remember every freckle (there are so many of them),
every vein pumping blood to your heart,
every word,
every day I spend with you,
but sometimes the things you see the most
are the least familiar to you
or perhaps
when you know someone or something so well
words limit what you can say.
The back of my hand is not just my hand:
twitching with life, it is a part of me.
You are not just a person:
bringing me to life, you are a part of me.
I used to look the blue currents under my skin
and hope they would burst,
but now they remind me of your translucent skin
and the way I can see every vein in your arms
and the way your arms make me feel safe from myself
and I'm okay.
Jul 23, 2013
Jul 23, 2013 at 2:36 AM UTC
We are our favorite trees, you and I
You, pale and painted with marks
and full of life
Me, twisted and lonely
but coming to life next to you.
Perhaps our branches could grow
and eventually intertwine
but if they do not stretch quite far enough
we could build a bridge
or sprout wings and fly to each other.
We are birds of a feather, you and I
Chattering noisily and endlessly
And I yearn for the day
that together we soar away.
Jul 5, 2013
Jul 5, 2013 at 2:08 AM UTC
Sorrows are easy
to write about.
Infinite amounts of metaphors
can be made about
darkness
and sadness
and strife.
But now that I am happy
how can I continue
with what I love?
Where is the fun
in describing my joy?
Will you be
bored?
There are only so many ways
I can tell you I'm in love.
I love him.
I love him.
He makes me
love myself.
If I tell you
can you please just
be happy for me?
Jul 5, 2013
Jul 5, 2013 at 1:58 AM UTC