Please do not write me
And remind me how we were in love.
We were never in love.
We were merely kids
Who knew not the first thing about love.
We were simply victims
Of the seduction of other's words
Who loved to tell us
How beautiful we were,
And to two young, naive, foolish artists
(Who knew nothing of the world)
Nothing was more important than beauty
Whether it be true
Or whether it be false.

you have your hand on my curtains
you wont let the light in

the only thing in my medicine cabinet is cough drops
maybe i should take all of them

you filled my bathtub with sand
and hid my dogs leash

you washed all of my clothes
and wasted all of my bleach

every utensil in my drawer has turned to plastic
and the channels on tv have all turned to static

so i sit in the corner and hold my breath
but you wont allow anything
to bring along my death

3 | 31 Poems for August

I received a notification that you posted a picture an hour ago.
How you manage to look that happy is something that I’ll never know.
I’ll never know if I’ll ever be able to let you go.
Watching TV, while Passenger’s “Let Her Go” is on repeat.
I’m listening, but sporadically missing the lyrics and the beat.
It hurts to write but it hurts even more walking around with an untold story.
So I write to write, I write to save myself.
I write to save the little bit of love that I have left.
The song keeps playing, “Only know you love her when you let her go.”
Let her go, but I need to let her know that my love will continue to grow.
My love for her is something that I’ll always proudly show.
They say home is a beating heart and sweaty palms.
Home is where the heart is and that’s what hurts the hardest.
Help me stop the hurting, help me become a better person.
Too many times I try to hide all that I’m feeling inside.
The pit of my stomach is full of dead butterflies.

I received a notification that you posted a picture an hour ago.
How you manage to look that beautiful is something that I’ll never know.
I’ll never know if I’ll be able to ever let you go.
But just know, my reflection of love is eternal even if the mirror begins to crack.
Even though you have left, I’ll always try to get you back.
Too many times I try to hide all that I’m feeling inside.
The pit of my stomach is full of dead butterflies.