the water in the shower was hotter than july
and i can't remember when my head hit the side of the porcelain tub
but it did it painlessly

when i fell and started to cry
i couldn't tell the difference between the ground
or the pure white floor
everything seemed to twist and turn into a dark bruised mess

i sat there naked and vulnerable for hours at a time
wondering when the next wave would crash
hoping this time the tide wouldn't pull me in so far
but it did

an hour or so later
when my dad asked me why i'd been in the bathroom so long
i told him i was cleaning the tub
but he knew that wasn't true

he knew what a tub was for
afterall,
i went to clean myself

who
are you with tonight?
tracing her fingers along your spine,
finding paths you took to nowhere,
crossing edges, my territory.

what
are you wearing tonight?
with your white boxers hanging off your hips,
at the bar with some college kids,
getting under someone, getting over me.

where
did you go after this?
taking the path less traveled kid?
did you look back and wonder,
or did you just let our bygones live.

when
will i see you next?
what can i expect? should i want to?
i've been looking at bottoms of bottles,
did you put me on the shelf for later too?

why
did you give it less thought?
did the repercussions hurt a lot?
am i the only one that ever cares?
are these too many questions?

“I’m here”
I take off my shoes and look up
He lies across my sheets
His eyes staring eager like a little boy
I smile hoping he’s questioning my day
He doesn’t ask anything about it

“I wrote a new song”, he says
“Should I play it?”
I nod, as he moves quickly across the room
When he reaches back with his guitar
He looks at me so concentrated
Without delay he begins to play

He stares into me, and past me
Focused on the music he sees
Because he’s never even read music before
He’s been too busy trying to read me
It doesn’t take me long to realize
That he didn’t come to me for lyrics this time
That this song doesn’t need any

After he’s finished playing, he packs up his guitar
And glides on his favourite jean jacket,
Covered in buttons from all the concerts we’ve seen
He looks at the ground and bends down,
He puts on his shoes and looks up
“I’m leaving”

it's 2:34am
and all I can think about is the way you said to me:
"if anyone's going to leave, it's you"
because it burns in my mind when I write it on blank paper
and then i get mad
the paper looks so empty
why is it so messy
where did i write these words?
i find myself writing your words unacknowledged
just in the centre of a white page
and the white is only matter
it gets swallowed by gravity
the words a black hole with it's own gravitational pull
any matter, anything that ever mattered
you
it will find a way to pull it in
**** it dry
unless it's dust, almost nothing
not complete nothing
but something of something
that's when it stays
like feelings
lingering on as long as they can take
not even to consume them fully
but almost, never quite
exactly
if you look closer at the stars
you can see faces and the more sips i take from this bottle
they remind me of your dark eyes
and not in some increasingly overly done romanticized fashion
but more so in a
'you spark interest in me'
and
it hurts to be inspired by anything else these days
other than
you
i guess
more so the hope of you
which is, by the way, just as lively
as the idea of mythical creatures
the most anticipating satisfaction to admiration is the thirst for something unrealistic
you to be real one day
i would drink you to the last drop
and i'd still be thirsty
but i would never want to consume you
i would never want to run you dry
even in the end
there's dust left

here i sit, bottle in hand, on an adventure with no end
the search for you in late night alleys,
at the bottom of bottles, ash trays.
I think I start to see you in burning embers, striving for life at the edge of my dying cigarette.

I ache in the absence of your arms, ones caught up in other strangers
women with different proportions,
smaller voices, and softer cheeks.

despite it's appeal, I will continue to search, in all places known, places
you swore you’d never be.

just like you swore you’d never leave.
But all I can imagine is pale lifeless hands caressing your sweet dark skin,

pale hands that could never be mine
and it burns in my mind like a nintendo64 on pause.
it can last for days and weeks.

I wonder how I’ll ever find you in the places
you swore you’d never be
just like you lost me,
when you swore you’d never leave.

i don't know you yet
no
but i plan on it
you
an analytical puzzle
to solve, to create
another question left unanswered
or simply unchanged
something about you
so gentle
so sweet
into late night conversations
where my words get held back
cause i'd like to think
they taste better in person
things taste better when shared
but i see it
i see that i have to just live
live without thought
that i have to just do me
but who says i can't still do me
with the help of someone else
there is 4 letters in your name
but i have an infinite more
to share with you
so tell me if you'll wait
wait for the other 22 letters
because i'd say the alphabet
backwards
and forwards
just to see where it leads us