I made four blueberry muffins for breakfast.
I wore a sweater three sizes too big,
and sat on a futon two sizes too small,
reading a book I've only halfway finished
in twice the amount of time it would take
to write it.
I drove without my windshield wipers on,
three-quarters hoping I wouldn't make it
a quarter of the way across town.
I tried to picture myself walking around
without pulling my past along
behind me.
I tried,
but that doesn't matter.
**** today.
I only thought about you
while they were in the oven.
I only pictured you waking up
and feeling okay
every time I turned the page.
I leaned over and looked through
the right side of my windshield
to see the view you once had.
And the scars on my palms
are reopened every day
as I drag around everything
I cannot let go.

I said I’d never write about you again,
but I suppose I’m just as good at lying
as I am at leaving.
I’ve forgotten what your voice sounds like.
I always criticized you for not letting go,
as if the weights around my ankles
weren’t made of my faults
and everything I wish I could take back.
You told me today that
you’ve found love again.
I hope he finds flowers growing
from all the cracks I created
in your heart.
I hope he sees galaxies
in the darkened voids
I left behind your eyes.
I hope he understands
that you are full of splintered doors
on rusted hinges
that need to be loved and not repaired.
I hope he is nothing like me.
I’m sorry my words left scars.
I’m sorry my silence
reopened them constantly.
I’m sorry I was too busy
loving myself,
instead of loving you.

Here I am, looking up causes for headaches
at 1 am
when I know it will always come back to you.
My hands found the bottom of the ocean
as I cleaned old movie tickets out of my car today.
I can see your honesty from here.
It took my composure on its way out the door.
I’m not bitter anymore.
I’m just tired.
And I’m tired of being so tired.
I’m sorry you didn’t stay.
I’m sorry that I apologize
for all the times you didn’t.
I keep forgetting these things
are not one-sided,
and so,
I’m sorry I gave you everything
for nothing in return.
You tasted like love,
and I was parched.
Still am.

I opened the blinds.
I took a deep breath.
I reminded myself that I exist.
I let you go.

It was a routine morning.

I can avoid you, sure,
as long as my presence makes you unhappy-
I can run from you and avoid eye contact-
and because you don't particularly care about me,
I can force myself to not care too and to logically
process the situation
but how long until I stop wanting to kiss you?

You can't be what I live for.
I won't waste breath on you,
not anymore,
I'm done spending my happiness
where it won't be received-
I'm tired of living in torture
our relationship isn't what I wanted;
what I wanted isn't what you wanted-
I've been idolizing the thought of a door opening
when you're just a brick wall-
to open you'd have to be something you're not
so I'm giving up on you,
for me,
but also for you.

I think one of my greatest fears is disappointing others.
But not in the way of if I go to college, my job, my relationships.
I think one of my greatest fears is disappointing others with my looks.

I hate being talked about to others by people who love me.
Giving strangers some sick twisted idea that I'm some sweet, beautiful girl.
People who love you tend to forget about the not so pretty things, the not good enough things.
But I don't forget them.

Because the second I am introduced,
I can see it in their eyes,
Maybe I'm imagining it,
But I can't see past it,
They look disappointed.
So let down.
"I thought she'd be thinner...and more beautiful...oh my god look at her thighs!"
I can see it in your eyes.
In the back of your mind, I know you're thinking this.
You were led to believe I'm something greater than what's in front of you.
I'm crushed.
It's my fault,
I'm sorry.