I want to write about
the one I love,
not the one who left me
high and dry.
You blew cancer into my lungs,
but he pulled the trigger
and I kissed him every day to try and soften the blow.
Now every time my lips touch yours,
I taste blood in my mouth
like a sick reminder of where
my lips used to be placed.

I want to touch you
every day for the rest of my life,
but my hands have been scorched
and burned
from placing them on somebody else.
But the way you touch me
makes me feel as if
all my sins have been erased.

I soon found that
it felt wrong to whisper
I love you
into the midnight air,
because I was so unsure as to who I was talking to
and I wanted you to be the only one
I ever said it to.

I have a chemical imbalance in my brain.
I know you can’t understand
why I sleep too many hours in a day,
or that sometimes I can’t find the will to get up in the morning,
but I need you to try.

Because once upon a time
before I had you,
I saw no light at the end of the tunnel.
I saw darkness and guilt
and when the sun didn’t come out,
neither did I.
I took things I shouldn’t have to my wrists,
and wore long sleeves in the summer.
I spent my days in my room
and I pushed every person I loved away,

I know you can’t picture me that way,
but I need you to
for just one second.
Picture a girl with dead eyes,
and a quiet voice.
Picture someone who when the going got tough,
she wanted to be dead.
Picture someone writing notes to the ones she loved,
telling them goodbye.
Picture someone swallowing too many pills
and not caring if she woke up or not.
Picture that person
because that use to be me.

I know you want me to stop taking my tiny yellow pills at night,
because you have never seen
that side of me.
But I live in fear everyday that I will fall back into that dark pitt.
So I take my pills
every night at nine,
and pull myself together
every morning.
I know you can’t understand
because you didn’t see the girl I was,
and I hope you never do.

I have tattoos scattered on my body
but I told you on our second date that I had commitment issues.
I guess what I meant to tell you
was that you should not come any closer,
because my heart is on fire.
I’m afraid you will blow up if you kiss me too hard
because the last boy told me I was a
tick-tick-ticking
time bomb.
But you are a man and not so easily scared
so I’ll tell you about the darkness
that made the others cringe and flee.

I will stare you down and find your flaws;
use them against you until I find a reason to leave
or until you beat me to it.
I will crash my ship onto your shore
and blame you for the wreckage.
I will set up camp inside your chest cavity
and let the smoke from my campfire fill your lungs.
I will sketch words into your skin,
I will write things about you,
that you couldn’t possibly believe.
I have demons following me like shadows
and I let them accompany me gratefully.

My heart is on fire
from all the things I have seen,
all the things I have done,
and all the things that have been done to me.
My heart is on fire
and I can simply not resist
lighting you up, too.

Come back and lull me to sleep
with all the excuses why you had to leave me,
and I’ll dream of the will
to let you back in.

I tell myself I am strong,
that I won’t go back,
but I know that if you turned around
I would drop everything to be with you again.
I tell myself I would never let you back in,
but you never really left.

You live in my words and my veins,
and no amount of writing
or blood spilt
could get rid of you.

I. My father taught me that
there’s always something better around the corner
if you just never stop looking
when he committed infidelity.

II. My mother taught me to take what makes me angry
and knock out its teeth
when she shoved my father off our front steps
and then had her fingerprints taken.

III. My grandmother taught me that someday
you will be able to forget the bad things that have happened
when Alzheimer’s rotted her mind
and we all became someone else to her.

IV. My grandfather taught me that
love does not get up and walk away
when the going gets tough,
when he picked my grandmother up off the floor
when she fell for the hundredth time.

V. My brother taught me
that forgetting is bliss
when he lived his life to the fullest,
without his past tied to his feet.

VI. If I teach people anything,
I want it to be
that you can get back up
and dust yourself off
no matter how badly you had been shoved onto that floor.

You were my everything, now I am nothing to you.
I fell in love with you, and you thought you felt the same.
You did not.
I fell in love and continued to fall deeper.
You led me on and continued to walk.
My heart crumbled and cracked, and you tried to help me.
Although you only made it worse.
So I cannot love you anymore, because I have been told the inevitable,
That you do not love me, and I can't force you too.