it's better for my poems
if you leave.

he grabs my leg and his claws sink into my barely-there thigh
his hand slips in the denim of my jeans
and when he kisses me,
it tastes like venom
i feel his toxin slither through my veins like a serpent
his ardent fangs gleam as he nips my neck,
and i know that he is the true definition of vermin.
my blood, red as cherry currant
crosscurrents with his slimy soul
his talons delineate my jutting ribs,
surely, he craves the control?
i writhe as he caresses the inside of my upper leg
and i realize,
that this will never end

I didn't tell you when I told you goodnight how much I miss you and how much I want you in my arms right now, about how much I want to feel your heartbeat on my chest. I can't bring myself to tell you how much you really matter to me, and how hopelessly, eternally, and deeply in love with you I am. I can't tell you that I don't just want you, but I need you. You're my favorite drug, and I'm an addict past the point of rehab. I didn't tell you that knowing you're not just down the road makes me feel so small and I didn't tell you how much I feel like I don't matter to you. I want to tell you all of this, but I want to hear that I matter. I want to know that you miss me, that you want to kiss me, and I want to hear these calming words from your beautiful heart. You never leave my mind. You're a grand distraction. I can't even take tests or watch tv without thinking of you. Get out of my head and please get in my arms. I miss you so much. Those are the things I left unsaid. That I didn't text you. All of that was compiled into a small goodnight, but you have no way of knowing what I really mean to say.

I miss the sound of his laugh
And being the reason for his smile

Not him

I miss his 3am texts
And midnight eyes

Not him

I miss how his kiss tasted like an explosion
And how his arms felt like home

Not him

I miss the sound of my name coming from his lips
And how he said I love you

But I don't miss loving him

I almost texted you good morning
I forgot
We aren't talking
You had become my second nature

Here we are again
The same place we always end up.
It's like when the day ends
and everyone else goes to bed,
we find this feeling more comfortable
than any bed ever could be.
And so we end up going days
upon days
without sleep.
We are forever stuck in this cycle of wanting to
but not needing to
needing to
but not wanting to
and ultimately not being able to want
or need
to admit the truth of what's really happening
behind closed doors.
Like one of those families
that show up to church on Easter Day
and Christmas Eve,
but curse gods name every other day of the year,
we sit here
and pretend that we aren't doing this again.
That I'm not sitting here
telling you I love you,
and you're not sitting there
staring at me
not knowing what to say.
Just like old times
we would rather pretend
that this is just an awkward silence,
totally normal.
Normal like missing two weeks of work
because you're too distraught
over someone's lack of love for you
to get out of bed.
Normal like daydreaming
of burning my skin with bleach
to erase the feeling of your hands.
When I say "I love you",
you say absolutely nothing,
and I flinch
as if your fist is inches from my body.
We sit here
and pretend to be entirely too calm,
pretend like I'm not going to go home
and try to **** myself again.
Pretend like you really didn't see the texts,
not that you were ignoring them.
Every moment of my life
feels like this,
I cannot remember a time
when every ounce of my time
was not occupied by feeling this.
There are photos of me with people
who call themselves friends
all over the Internet,
which proves I used to get enjoyment
from things other than you,
but now,
in this inescapable moment,
I can't even remember their names.
I'm the type of person
who finds solace in routine,
but sitting here explaining to you
how my dying body is decaying
from the inside out
because of this sadness,
because of this overwhelming love,
explaining this to you
every day of my life
only to be greeted with silence yet again,
is this furthest thing from comfort
that I have ever had to encounter.