I wish my head would stop turning in the direction of my phone,
waiting with batted breath for the writing of text, an indication you're still awake.
I wish I wouldn't fill up with overwhelming waters of disappointment,
because I already know that you won't reply.
I wish you would text me first because I don't want to seem clingy.
I wish I could stop my eyes from glancing at your name every five seconds,
wishing it was a name belonging to a person I didn't want to need.
I wish I didn't miss you so late at night.

Funny how this isn’t so, because as I was slowly becoming like you, but you never really thought of becoming like me. As I kept breaking your walls, you kept building new ones. During those times I managed to create a small crack that reached upon you. However, you never stopped building them up that I couldn’t keep up no matter how much I wanted to.

I know that I was all that you wanted but many shadows filled your room, and so as I tried so very hard to fix it, you asked me not to. Now I know you’re so much better, even if you’re not completely fixed. Now you can face them without me, even if it would be easier if I gave you a lift. Now as I fall apart in every way, you can’t do the same as I did for you. Because you have your own battles to face too.

I’m here to leave my heart at your door. Finally having the strength to say good-bye. Not because I don’t love you, I really do, but because you don’t need my love anymore.

This morning I was born, pink as a sunrise waiting patiently to melt into infinity.
I turned five in the afternoon, small hands tracing entire universes in the frost of a school bus window, wide eyes peeking out into a frigid February dream I have long since forgotten.
As dusk began to stretch its fragile skeleton along the walls, I was suddenly thirteen and searching for any trace of a ghost screaming relentlessly inside skin I could not recognize. Broken mirrors and madness tasted all too familiar as the sky began to blacken like something rotten kept secret for a little too long. Patience, young one. Minute hands will soon teach you how to taste sweetness all over again.
Faint stars collected far above my head, and all of a sudden I was one week away from seventeen. I knew that if I slept, she would greet me, after a day of sixteen beautiful stories waiting to be told.
A swaddled baby. A toddler scribbling backwards letters on blank pages buzzing in anticipation. An imperfect perfectionist, a paradox in process. A wanderer searching for fragments of salvation on an earth too broken for redemption. A rescued victim of her own absent self. A soul that has stretched its edges to form the revival of a buried smile. A renaissance blooming with every fleeting moment.

I have been all of these things. The thump in my chest understands this. Time paints with a hand that never tires of healing, never grows old, never loses hope.
In the morning I will rise, pink as a sunrise with blazing eyes that can already see the dance of infinity.

Have you ever felt disposable?
Like you're only worth as much as you are useful,
And you're just not useful for that long?

Have you ever felt disposable?
Like you're great and all,
But if something better comes along
It's into the garbage you'll go?

Have you ever felt disposable?
Like you're wonderful and all that jazz,
But if the old thing starts working again,
Losing you is no great loss.

Have you ever felt disposable?
Like every person before has thrown you away
Because you were lost, or just stopped working the way they wanted you to.
You weren't useful anymore, you weren't doing the thing they wanted you to do anymore.

Have you ever felt disposable?
Because I have.
When every person that came before you
Threw me away like a broken toy,
Because they were spoiled frustrated children,
Throwing people away because they didn't work how they wanted them to.
Because I was a toy, I was not human.
And because I have feel disposable,
That means I'm afraid that at any second you could throw me away,
Even though you're not them, and they're not you,
And you're not like that at all.
Because when you look at me,
You see me as human.

Have you ever felt disposable?
Because that means you've felt the fear that the person you love most will leave,
For one reason or another.
Whether it be entirely irrational or completely unfounded,
It means that every second that passes between the text message you've sent asking them "Are you leaving me?" and their response, feels like a knife to wrists,
Draining you of every drop of blood you could possible have or create
And you get cold, and the cold makes your joints stiff, and then the stiffness makes you ache and you're not only crying out of the fear and unnecessary anxiety, but you're crying because dear God, it hurts and you can't breathe because if you breath you'll sob and only cry harder.

Have you ever felt disposable?
Because if you have you know that wearing his hoodie makes you feel wrong, because at any second he could decide to leave and if he leaves you'll never want to take it off because it's the closest thing to a hug from him you'll ever get again.

Have you ever felt disposable?
Because after being disposed of, you start thinking all these terrible things because it's what you're used to.

Have you ever felt disposable?

He was always warm
Like his coffee colored skin
His smiled hugged you
Brought you into submission
Until your bones wrapped under his
I'd play with the outlines of his anatomy
The way his muscles protruded
And relaxed when my fingers traced his
His laugh echoed like violins
Symphonies playing wildly in my ears
And when I'd undress
He'd always stare
Singing how he won a master piece
That was only his
And no one else's to share
The summer heat burned us
Yet only the summer knew
The conversations that filled that room
He held a scar on his chest
I'd kiss it everyday to remind him how beautiful pain is.
The way his hair curled
And felt like silk when I'd run through it
The way I'd look down and kiss him
The world stopped
But so did the day he left
And like a VCR
I hit replay
A memory so vivid
Yet fading each and everyday