I dreamt of watching you die.
I felt the misery of a world without you.
Now, I fear, I can't wake up.

You don't like Clerks like I do.
You don't appreciate AFI like I do.
You don't like Adventure Time as much as I do.
You don't agree with me when I rave about awesome uses of the uncanny.
Speaking of uncanny, you don't like David Lynch movies the way I do.
You definitely didn't love Blue Velvet the way I love it.
You hated that movie.
You don't like crowded public places like I do.
Crowded places give you panic attacks.
A lot of things give you panic attacks.
You're anxious just as much as I am,
but about entirely different things,
and so it's very frustrating.
You like Super Smash Bros.
You like Super Smash Bros. more than you like Street Fighter.
I don't even know if you like Street Fighter at all.
You don't like fitness like I do.
You don't like martial arts like I do.
You don't want to do active things very often.
You don't like the same food I like.
You don't like to cook like I do.
You don't like to do what I like to do in bed.

When you do the things that you do, you do them genuinely and with an impassioned scowl I don't think you'd appreciate if you could see it from the outside.
When you do what you do, you define yourself, and your definition caught me at first -- then waned and does wane -- and catches me now, usually when I'm absolutely certain there's no more left to share.
When you do the things you do, I spectate, never letting on, that I'm entertained so much I want a bowl of popcorn and the lights dimmed.

Agreement means little when you do the things you do.
The similarity we do share is the orb in the heart of our human cellars.
We both know how badly our moms messed up.
I couldn't ask for anything more.

I love you.

Loving you in the form of forced "I love you"'s between every touch, between every doubt inside that screams "no" while you keep screaming "yes" but all I wanted was for you to touch my heart the same way you touched my thighs and grabbed my face unapologetically
Loving you in the form of bare feet on wet pavement similar to the way you carefully walked your way into my mind. I wish every natural disaster would sound like our hurricanes of false "I love you"'s and forced moans

Losing you in the form of blankets on that cold November morning when our hearts were no longer fabricated to beat the same. I never quite forgot the way the frost matched the color of your eyes the day you decided loving me was as worthless as hiding from the monsters that lived in your head.
Losing you in a form quite similar to the closest way we made love; you'd lie with I love you after minutes of me hoping you'd stop. The cadence of your voice became stale and I think I could see winter in your eyes even when I was not looking at you and my sighs became more frostbitten than your words.

Missing you in the form of sweaty palms but you never really were one for holding hands and now your fingers are shaking harder than they did during our first kiss but it wasn't our first kiss I missed, it was every one after that and the way you'd whisper I love you as if one time you truly meant it, just to watch me walk away when I thought I'd had enough.
Missing you in the form of wearing your deodorant every night after years of you being gone because I will never feel safe without your memory. I was clinging to your memory in hopes that these nightmares aren't my reality but you never woke me up and I'm still waiting to be held by your words.

Forgetting you in the form of burnt love letters smothering out your voice in my head but still stinging deeper than any cut you placed on my heart. I still remember the rush of blood to my face the first time we touched, but now I wonder if the heat was a spark in interest or a warning sign. Forgetting you in the form of sleeping the time away, just to see your silhouette in my dreams. I don't trust my own two hands, how can I ever grasp yours again?
Forgetting you was slam poetry except its not beautiful at all and the only thing being slammed is the doors to my heart because I'm not sure if it's safe inside anymore.

She fell in love with feeling pain.
She fell in love with being hurt.
She fell in love with wanting to let go.
She fell in love with sadness.
She fell in love with her tears.
She fell in love with her cuts, her bruises, her scars.
She fell in love with her razor.
She fell in love with broken promises.
She fell in love with lies.
She fell in love with heartbreak.
She fell in love with hopelessness.
She fell in love with incompetence.
She fell in love with crying.
She fell in love with ignorance.  
But most importantly, she fell in love with you.
*H.T