It’s morning again
I trace the blades of my ceiling fan until I get dizzy
It’s a familiar feeling
like when you’re fifteen and that senior boy hands you your first drink
I look at you in the middle of the night. I look for you in everyone.
I would be lying if I said you are the most beautiful person I’ve ever met.
Your laugh is loud like my dads and reminds me that we all picked different poisons: my dad, ***** you, whiskey. me, you.
You touch me, shower
I keep you on my skin until I hate myself for keeping you on my skin
You say my hair looks good long but my ends are as dead as this conversation
I love you even when you pretend to love me too.
Jan 19, 2017
Jan 19, 2017 at 7:05 PM UTC
I Google “how to get over a broken heart”
12,200,000 results in .76 seconds
I think about your hand between my thighs
get a bottle of whiskey
and tell myself I will never call you sober
One morning I woke up in your bed and you weren’t there
One morning I woke up in your bed and you were there
See, that’s the thing about being in love with a ghost
Ghosts make the worst tenants, I didn’t ask for this
I didn’t ask you to haunt me with the way you smack your lips after a drag of your cigarette, and the next one, and the next one. I didn’t want to remember the songs, the music playing in the background, us, the main performance, dancing in your sheets. I touch your forehead with my forehead. It’s sweaty. I find out that ghosts can sweat. Ghosts can tell you they like your new tattoos but all you hear is “There’s a reason I left after your first one”. If I got a tattoo for every time I thought about your lips they would run out of ink.
You’re like a foot of snow after the weatherman said showers
and I’m the mess they clean up in the morning.
Jan 18, 2017
Jan 18, 2017 at 5:28 PM UTC
I want to introduce you to my parents. I want to take black and white polaroids of your hands and hang them on my bedroom walls so when you leave me for a funnier, slimmer, better version of me I can remember a time when those hands brought out the best parts of my worst. I want to kiss you, hard. On the mouth. Soft, on your nose. Violently, passionately, like a hurricane I want to leave marks to remind you I was here. I want to tell you about my day. How many coffees I drank, how many cigarettes I tried to leave unlit, the way I forgot to think about anything else but your laugh. I want to make you eggs in the morning and listen to that ****** indie music we love (If you don’t like eggs I’ll make you stacks of chocolate chip pancakes and you can be reading if you don’t like music in the morning.) I hope we run into each other at a coffee shop, at the library, on the street and shyly smile, knowing this is it.
Mar 2, 2014
Mar 2, 2014 at 4:04 PM UTC
My mother was never a swimmer,
she signed me up for lessons when I was nine
so I would never drown.
That summer, I did learn how to swim,
but no one prepared me for the sinking that would come
10 Augusts' later.
I can smell the whiskey on your breath
as you touch my cigarette mouth.
I've never missed anything as much
as your hands meeting every crevice of
my body during those winter nights
in your twin sized bed.
Half-clothed, pressed against each others bodies,
holding each other like the last life jacket on the Titanic,
we decide we'll never see stars like this back home.
Seaweed entangles our feet
and I throw mine up around your waist,
because I need you so much closer.
Forget Death Cab.
Transatlanticism is real but
I don't need you to be across the ocean to know
the distance between us stretches for miles,
though I'm staring at your apologetic eyes in front of me.
I fought to stay afloat that summer,
reminding my limbs the motions of the backstroke,
the butterfly.
But with one glance, you had me at the bottom of the deep end.
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 7:13 PM UTC
the first snow of the season gives such chills
that every hair on the body stands at attention.
when you touched my knees
we were snowed in for three days in a blizzard,
I was shaking.
you said my name over and over again,
and I kissed you like it was the one and only thing
I was born to do.
you say I shouldn't wait for you
but after drinking whiskey, all I hear is
"I miss you, I miss you, I miss you."
I've lost track of the cigarettes we've smoked
because when they find my body
you'll be behind the trigger anyway.
you're the windy city,
and no amount of Chapstick could fix my lips.
we are not in love.
we were never in love, not even close to the idea.
**** you, yes, **** you. will you? **** you.
Sep 26, 2013
Sep 26, 2013 at 5:30 PM UTC
Seems as though I didn’t think of you as much as I usually do. But I’m probably wrong.
I’m eating chocolate cake for breakfast..
It’s ******* June.
Remember how you said that you used to find my hair in the most random places? I hope that still happens, but I doubt it because it’s been over a month since I stepped foot in your room.
I read your poems the other day on my third cigarette and cried on my bathroom floor. Your words were always perfect. Every single word. You and your perfect ******* words. I am so obsessed with you it makes me sick.
We talked through scattered and meaningless messages today that ultimately don’t change anything and I am till here missing you to death.
Last night I told you I was in love with you and you didn’t reply.
Jul 24, 2013
Jul 24, 2013 at 4:39 PM UTC
it feels like the first day of spring
and I keep turning away from the sun
because every time it hits my legs
my body convulses and tingles from the heat.
sixty-eight degrees outside
I'm wearing a winter hat and sweater
minty green with patterns that look like Cheez-Its.
my shoes give me ****** blisters
but I wear them anyway because they're new
and complete my ****** outfit
and my feet will question,
and ache
and plead
you are my feet
you bolster my body
every bone, limb, and muscle
and I constantly destroy you
******* you, scratch you, dismantle.
I am that one pair of shoes in the back of your closet
that never feels the tension of your toes
because after an hour of my presence,
you remember why I was stashed there in the first place.
and even though I'm new to you
I can only hope to complete the transcendence of your outfit, too
complete your already perfect everything
and despite my careless bruising
I long to be your favorite shoe.
Apr 9, 2013
Apr 9, 2013 at 4:57 PM UTC
I told myself I would never do it again
as my body sank into my best friend's bed
"are you okay?"
"yeah, you?"
"yep."
the trip home was silent
and the sedan suddenly turned into an eighteen wheeler,
the rear view mirrors sticking out like Dumbo's ears.
we are in a cartoon.
I am convinced we are in a cartoon
and we are flying
Dumbo could fly, too.
through euclid, and vernon, and lund
we are mute
and we are
happy
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 11:22 PM UTC
two kids
careless and naive
and that December
I’ll always remember
some kind of attraction
take a chance
what’s the worst that could happen?
butterflies killing my insides
smudged eyeliner
fighting, arguing
but I miss you
you say you don’t remember
tangled sheets and gray sweatpants
whispers. lies.
“let’s pretend”
it’s easier than telling the truth
right?
silence.
it never meant anything.
but I’m still here
always will be
and miles don’t mean anything
and my feeling don’t mean anything
to you
wrong timing, always wrong
but you could never waste my time
lets go back to how it used to be
now back to the same routine
same cycle.
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 9:18 PM UTC