You are poetry;
I can see it in the jagged lines that run across your forehead,
I see it in your sad forced smiles-
And your curled fingers with your soul dipped ink dripping down your hand
You are covered in poetry so beautiful
But all you see is a broken girl
With a haunting past of a daddy that abandoned you
And an ex boyfriend who broke your heart
You think 'attempted suicide' is stamped across your forehead
But ****, you're the most beautiful thing I've seen
And your body is the most beautiful poetry I've read

You stained my sheets with your scent-
No... No, you ******* drenched my sheets with yourself
You made love to my bed so passionately
That you left behind the indentation of your body
It's sad that you wanted to hold my hand
And feel my heart beat just in that touch;
Even when we made 'love'
you didn't make so much as a dent in my memory;
Or my heart.

I need a new bed now,
                                      you ruined mine.
Yours remains perfectly molded,
                                      sorry that I destroyed you *instead

And looking back at it-
I swear you ****** the life out of me
Faster than you burn through your cigarettes
You left me there;
Charred and used
Just another decoration in the sewer drain
You stepped on me
To make sure that my light was completely gone
As you reached in your back pocket and pulled out another one

I binge write,
Like an addict relapsing from ******
I wake at 4:13 in a cold sweat
Because somehow words have become more important than sleep

The foot prints on the moon are permanently engraved into the soil
Just as the tire tracks from our technology will not disappear
For the moon has no wind
It is steady and unchanging
Like knowing the sun will rise each day
And the moon will guide our darkest nights
It's as unwavering as the alignment of constellations
And the gravitational pull of planets
But what if...
One day the sun did not rise;
And the moon did not lead us in darkness
What if the traces left on the moon
Were all mysteriously erased?
Like one day waking up to an empty bed
With the suitcases gone
And no trace of that person at all