I don't know how to let you love me.
You tell me it's by letting you give me your jacket when I'm cold.
You tell me it's by arguing back when you pick fights with me, because you know I'm too strong to just let you win like that.

You say it's by telling you what I'm feeling when I'm feeling it, and not keeping it all bottled up.
You tell me it's by letting you be the little spoon sometimes, even though you're bigger than me. You like to be held too.

I tell you I don't know how to let you love me, but you sure know how to make me love you.

I didn't ******* ask for this.

When you did what you did,
I tied my hair back and rolled cuffs into my jeans.
I put on my work boots and started to pick up the pieces of myself that you spent all that time chipping away at.
I let myself look at each one, giving myself time.
It's hard to remember where everything went, but I tried my best.

There were days that I'd sit in the middle of it all and let it overwhelm me. There were days I would pretend you were still here, chipping comfortably away.

I didn't know it'd take so long. I didn't know it'd hurt so much.

But with my sleeves pushed back, I worked and I learned. I learned how to take care of my broken pieces. How to treat them gently and lovingly, even when I felt I had no more love left in me.

I don't know exactly when it happened, but it did.

You did what you did, and I did what I had to.

And suddenly I am whole again.

Poison coursing through my veins
I drink and I drink and the lights are flashing as bodies are pressed hard against  each other
Melting
Fading into me, into you.
There are no names here
Nothing matters but the bass pulling us tighter
The poison fills me
Its sweet and bitter and I need it as bad as I need hands on my waist
Anchoring me here as the liquor threatens to pull me away.

I fixate.
Mostly, as a self loathing (or was it loving?) person, on myself.
When it’s not me it’s you, stranger.
Guy who smiles at me.
Girl who stares.
Adult who makes me feel like a kid, and kid who makes me feel like an adult.
I see you, seeing me, and I fixate on you until I can satisfyingly conclude that you either  
1. Don’t give a **** about me
or
2. Thought about me for a moment.

While I immediately want to know what you think of me, if you think of me, I remind myself that I am much more interested in knowing how long you carry me in your mind.
I, who fixates, will think of you often. I will think of you long and hard and I will stop when I find another whose face is fresh in my mind, while yours has faded like the blue in my favorite jeans.
I, who fixates, wonder how long it takes for me to fade in the mind of you, who doesn’t.

I feel every single day that the only things I know are those sitting next to me.
Those that are forward are too far for me to count on.

With one arm out and one at my side, I wait for someone to grab my wrist and pull.
Maybe then I’d have direction.
I want this to be heard like the church bells and adorning voices of the faithful.
But until that happens I’m here and I’m now and I just have to hope I’ll figure it out on my own.

I feel okay, I really do but every now and then I’d like to love you.  Whoever you are.
I’d like to hear your affirmations and dedications
But I know better than to think you’d be true.

Minutes are hours in the mind of someone who doesn’t know the difference between urgency and leisure
I’ll know one day, but until then you’ll have to understand because I’m not sure if when I apologize it’s for a mistake or for just being.

I’ve watched so much go by me. Flying with wings I somehow missed out on, and I feel sorry. Sorry enough to be bitter enough to stop caring and feeling and eventually I’m back to being sorry. I tell you not to worry because soon I’ll remember how to walk and I’ll meet you there, where everyone else is.

I feel
Entirely
That I can’t let anyone know.

What hurts is that
Irrationally
I want people to understand without asking.

They don’t.

So when I check out
Temporarily
From myself and everyone I know

Forgive me.