You left me out,
in the deep waters to drown
and I learnt how to swim.

So,
don't think that you'll now throw me a lifeboat
and it will count as saving.

Alcohol and strawberries
will always  remind me of you.
my friends take my phone away
when I'm drunk,
because those are the times i always
want to call you.
I threw up this morning
and the taste came back.
I cried for two hours.
at least it's all out if me.
we kissed in graveyards
and i gave myself to you,
the bruises on my chest were your way of saying
“i like you.”
i would’ve let you destroy me
if you’d asked,
but when i remember
how you kissed me against walls,
i wish i had faded into them.
you were the only reason i had to stay.
and i know oregon will not save me but-
it has less ghosts.
i want saying goodbye to hurt less.
but it’s not that easy.
i try not to care,
i stop smiling when you call,
i say i won’t keep in touch when I’m gone.
but i still cry at 1 a.m.
because you will not find it in your time
to call me.
my little tree,
i love you so much,
but your branches are stretching away from me.
i can’t reach you anymore.
go on, reach the sky.
i will stay on the ground for a while,
one day i can reach the heavens, too.
even if it means,
**forgetting i love you.

this
place is
unfamiliar still.
i want to go home.
home is 2,000 miles away.
when I felt the cool Oregon breeze
I knew I had found it. I talk to my friends about
moving  making art and poetry, starting a new. i have
been pushed away from where I thought my home was.
I have learned to stop looking for home in other people.  home
collapsed around me when we slipped away from each other.  
We still speak  but I no longer cry when I have dreams of being
away from you. One day I will leave. and I do not promise to keep
in touch. Indiana is your home and to me it is a mass grave
  I will not allow myself to stay buried in.