i thought there was a gnat on
my arm, so i smacked it.
turned out it was just black fuzz from
my sweater.
i count 3 little cuts on my hand from
who knows where.

i drove past his subdivision for no reason.
or maybe it was to feel closeness, proximity--a new old kind of intimacy.
i deny this. i accept this. i deny this.

my teeth have shifted, i am paranoid.
self-assigned 24/7 retainer again.
i feel as though my lungs are being squeezed.

the circles beneath my eyes seem darker every day.
the bruises on my legs increase in size, darkness, and number.
the scars and bumps on my cheeks have gotten redder.

i feel less and less like myself.
i feel monstrous. unlovely. holistically.
i feel that lump in my throat return as i realize this.

i think of how much i would be okay if he said goodbye.
my eyes are dry.
my stomach doesn't turn inside out anymore.

i play the same 3 songs on repeat.
the moon and i have 2 things in common:
spots. and wanting to be noticed.

i can never look at myself with the light on.
i don't allow myself to stand too close to a mirror,
afraid of the details i will find if i look too closely.

i tried writing today but probably stared at my reflection
in the laptop screen more than the words on the screen.
when will it end?

i scrapped the rest of my chipped nail polish off in the shower.
little bits of pink, lilac, and baby blue flow down the drain.
i forgot my razor under the bathroom sink.

when will this come to an end?
when will i be able to breathe again?
when will my eyes close and close for good?

i keep waiting for summer but what if summer
never feels like summer?
what will i have to wait for then, if not summer?

i forgot that it was your birthday.
i think that's a good thing.

and even now as i tell our story,
it sounds like fiction
rolling jagged off of my tongue.

so unthinkable
that i have to remind myself that
it really happened.

yesterday was two years ago.

you told me the only difference you saw was that my hair was longer.

you saw parts of me, blacker than the ink in the well.

i saw you. faced you. lungs aflame with vibrations of anger.

stood, bags packed, one palm on the glass door, one extended to keep you at arms length.

and i still loved you.

more than i loved myself.

i had a dream that my mom threw a surprise birthday party for me.

you were the first one to arrive, in a suit and tie, too.

he was an hour away, roaming the halls of a museum, admiring art with my best friend instead.

it's not hard to make a decision when you're standing right in front of me.

flushed cheeks, dark hair, and the scent of a little too much champagne sparkling off of your tongue as you say anything just to make me laugh.

our love is like bruised fruit--
irreversibly-damaged,
sickeningly sweet,
& difficult to throw away for fear of wasting something that may still taste good.

2,429 miles couldn't make me
love you less, even if it tried.

no amount of states or streets
or the dozens of times i've cried.

you always make me smile
& comfort you never lack.

i love you more than words can say,
across the seas and back.