you ask me

“do you like making music?”

kiss me on the cheek

I look at

my hands resting on your keyboard, almost still

turn around and

reply with a big smile

“yeah, yeah I do”

I would like to say in an unimpressed tone

that I have heard this all before

that this is not new

but it is.

with you I am different,

happy.

for a little while,

I forget what I am

what i feel

forget about flinging my body down the stairwell

forget about the feeling of my fingertips pulling at my skin

hoping I can tear it apart

I forget for a little while

just long enough to make me believe the world is fine

that everything will be okay

that I am okay

that I am not just a celexa girl

who writes sad poetry

that death would not be blissful to me

because I have you

and only you

sometimes it feels like you are the only one who cares when everything is closing in

you tell me I am always nice and soft

when I have felt like I was the opposite of that

for so so long

being with you is almost unbelievable

like you know all the right things to say to make my heart feel as if it has made the right decision by still continuing to beat

and I know that all of this cliché.

everything I write about you is a cliché mess

a mix of happiness and beautiful things I am too afraid to say to your face

the things I only write in poems

tell you when I think you are asleep

while I lay down

almost still

calm,

breathe softly

read you this poem

and then

say goodnight and goodbye.

thank you,

for letting me

let you in.

even if you

were not awake

to know

The world is too much for us.
There is so much beauty
Around us
And those who notice it all
Do not know what to do with it.
And those people
End up the most miserable,
The kindness in their hearts
Swallow them whole,
and they can not handle
All of the wonderful things
They think that they
Do not compare to
But
These people
Are just as beautiful as
The morning sunlight
And the stars that shine
So brightly.
The stars shine for you.
There are stars Inside your mind
do not let
cruel people with unkind
hearts **** your stars
let yourself get lost
in the world
do not feel guilty that
there is gentleness in your soul
because a kind heart
Is just as wonderful as
The universe's endless beauty.

I tried to hate you
but then I remembered
Wes Anderson
and first kisses
the sort of things that cover
bad songs and poorly worded excuses
and the secret site
I poured my thoughts to
the times it was worse than just "things are bad right now"
and pills
Celexa didn't do anything.
Zoloft made me suicidal.
Effexor was just right but needed to be upped after a while.
seems like nothing ever works right
or is it just me?
soon i can to realize
it’s not
i’m not the only one you did this to
i wanted to believe
it was just towards me
because i was me
no
i hope you and your girlfriend get high enough
to leave the planet
your first name starts with h
and ends with e - l - l
Perfume makes my head ache
the makeup caked on my eyes
cause them to itch.
your girlfriend is using dope and
you're with her
you both act like you're Conor O.
Using your friends
for the drugs
ratting them out
she looks at me
but can’t hold a stare
funny isn’t it
maybe she knows what you’re doing is wrong.
Ironically we are all supposed to help people grow
but you pull the roots from the ground
And empty the water into your eyes
So you can cry
It's not a beautiful thing to do
we're stuck with you
not growing
the sky is still out of reach
All my friends are in love
With their abusive ex girlfriend
I should just add myself to the list
my stepfather says that I'm falling apart
As an insult
as others say
Stop that attitude
Stop being so negative
*****.
i hope my anger towards the world will maybe make sense
but next time you see me
don’t look at me
i hear a girl screaming outside my window
but i don’t shut it
i head outside to see if she’s okay,
she’s on the ground crying
asking
“wasn’t love supposed to be enough?”
she reminds me of the past
and i shake
I’m crying on the phone in the library and a girl
sits by me and asks
“are you okay?”
i don’t know if i should be honest
so i just say
“no, but i’m better than i was a few months ago”
losing you wasn’t a loss
and i try to hate you
and i might
but the secret site is closed down
and i don’t go to it anymore anyways
i kiss others to get the taste of you out
wes anderson is great but we only watched one movie of his together anyways and
i was too busy looking at you to even appreciate it

We are more than the bodies we occupy
when I die,
flowers clovers and grass
will grow from my body
to make the earth pretty pretty
And to give homes to other life
Bodies are not temples
bodies are homes to souls and brains and poetry
My body is worn and torn and aching
not pure not godly not perfect
it is none of these things.
i am none of these things.
countless times i scream at the sky
"why am I sad?
why?
the earth is filled with so many great things
And here I am sad sad sad"
throwing my body onto pavement
because i felt like i could never build a home in it.
yet it still housed my soul my brain my poetry
body, forgive me.
i am so much more than you
but yet i still struggle to see myself
as a separate being.
feel like i am just you
just a body
yes,
you have carried me through heartbreak
made me get out of bed
held my heart even when i felt it was breaking
let my hands move to lovers, to worn paper, to old rusty shower knobs.
but
my soul, my brain, myself was the reason i let you perform any of those actions.
body, what you did was not involuntarily.
it was me.
it was my brain.
it was my soul.
it was my poetry.
it was all me me me

stars are falling from my ceiling
i am becoming duller.
softer.
there are galaxies on my bedroom floor
I step on their bodies,
unaware of the harm I do.
there is stardust inbetween my toes
and i feel it in every step I take.
i miss the comfort of not being alone.
i keep scraping my knees,
and it hurts when i try to pick myself up
but i do.
just to look at the
stars
which i find beautiful but
when i look at them in awe,
i seem to forget some of them
are actually dead.
dead but getting credit for being alive
just to my naked eyes.
i assume everything is fine.
i do not ask
nor think.
would just rather accept.
it’s just easier that way,
to think seeing is believing.

its four in the morning.
you pick me up in your car
and i ask you where we’re going.
you say you don’t know.
the streetlights brighten your face,
i forgot how you looked in the daylight.
yesterday i forgot how your voice sounded,
i called you, just so i could remember.
maybe i will not be here tomorrow,
or maybe i’ll just sleep
i say as the light hits your cheekbones,
you clutch on the steering wheel
and reply
the way your voice sounds when you're about to cry-
is still one of my favorite things

When I looked at you
in that blue light shining on your eyelids
Almost making you look transparent
I swear I heard a voice telling me
what God wanted me to be.
That you somehow had gotten it through my thick skull.
Because I can't see or touch God,
but looking at you,
reminded me I wasn't alone.
And I kneeled near my bed every night
Praying something would exist
Not to save me or fix me
Because I don't need any of that
I just wanted something to make me feel less alone
When I laid my body down onto the earth
I swear the soil took it over
and led me to
Where everything ends and begins
My hand trembles less
And I'm not afraid to speak in front of you
I remember how I felt something when I looked into the Oregon Sky and how the mountains seemed to never end, and they filled up the sky and it made me feel full.
but when I look into indianas Sky, it's empty and so am i.
My creative writing teacher told me, I was very observant, and seemed to care about others a whole lot. She always writes  on the  top of my poems,  "very creative" I don't feel like I'm anything. Especially creative. Because if poems hadn't been trendy in middle school, I wouldn't be a poet now. And that scares me. I don't know which parts of me are real. I started photography because it was the cool thing to do, I become interested in art because I guess I wanted to feel what others felt when they looked at the individual paint strokes, and I went on dates at the art museum and stared at the paintings more than my actual date, which isn't poetic at all. Now I go alone and sit in the whisper room for hours because everyone I take it there thinks it's too creepy, I write down what I hear and sometimes put it in poems. I think I hear what I'm actually thinking. Because my brain usually shuts that out and I hear what I want to hear. They say write what you feel, what you've experienced, what you love. I feel sick and sad when I remember the past, and I don't know what I love. And then they tell me to write happier but I don't feel that way.
I wish the ground could swallow me up. I want to be able to touch the world but I feel like I can't breathe. How will I ever change the world, if I can't change myself? Because I look in the mirror at 12 am and I wish I could crawl out of my skin.  I wish I could write love poems and draw smiley faces all around my paper. But the happy parts in my poems are usually made up. I add them in, to make it seem like I'm a lovable important person. I think everyone sees right through me. Flowers grow under my body and push through the soil. If they can grow, so can I. I am far from happy and I write it all down because I will not lie to myself. I'm alone.

Donald Trump,
you will never make
America great again.
the American Dream is dead.
and people like you,
are the ones who killed it.

I came home for the weekend and realized i am still in love with you.
i don’t know why this came as a shock,
because this  happens every time i come home.
especially in the autumn.
nostalgia really hits,
and i find myself walking in the neighborhood you held my hand in,
going to the cemetery you kissed me in
and driving by your neighborhood on the way to get coffee.
i guess i feel pathetic more than anything-
repeating to myself
“it doesn’t feel like two years ago. i can still feel your breath on my neck.”
i don’t tell my mother-
but that doesn’t hide the fact i was crying in my bedroom.
when the weekend is over, i find myself slugging to my dorm room, without a thought of you in my mind.
autumn is almost over.
i wont be home for another three weeks.
i repeat this to myself as i walk to get a cup of coffee.
pour over.
dark roast.
anything to make me feel warm and fuzzy.
something bitter.
my soul was pastel purple when i met you,
the perfect combination of blues and reds.
now it is a dark navy blue,
i smoke a cigarette on the way back,
i wonder which one would be easier to give up.
as i open the door to my room nothing feels familiar,
my bed has held people who are not you-
they were supposed to make forgetting easier.
they didn’t.
i turn on my bathtub
and stick my feet in long enough to burn my skin
your favorite song plays on repeat inside of my head,
i look at the coffee sitting next to me-
and wonder-
i take off the lid and pour it onto my head,
it slowly flowing off the edges of my face,
filling my nostrils until it’s all the room smells like-
i don’t feel anything,
no warmth-
no fuzziness-
you were all those things-
you - burned my skin when you touched me.
i remember all the times i said no,
but the coffee surged onto my scalp anyway.
you fill the room,
this is how i remember not to miss you.

i often dream of never waking up
my toes are sinking into the snow
watching the imperfect explosions in the sky.
there is no way to reach you from here.
you try to speak to me through the infinite spaces you found in the void
of internet forums we are both apart of.
i am trying to reach you from here.
as i try to figure out the exact pantone color of your eyes
so i can paint my apartment walls the shade of you i still remember.
i am shifting through the boxes,
drowning into the unfamiliar space i still cannot manage to call
home.
i am a shape shifter.
trying to mold into that one perfect sad song.
i am desperately trying to reach you from here.
really.
i am dead compared to you.
you’re so alive.
i am calling from the grave,
in the poems and the songs i write.
you are the sunrise i wake up to in the morning,
you are the color draining away from my skin
as i pour my black coffee and watch the birds go far away.
your eyes are PANTONE 19-0117 TPX-
vineyard green.
i don’t know if i’ll be here tomorrow
i don’t know if this place will ever feel like home.
and i don’t know if you can hear me.

and i do not regret the kisses
in the dark of your basement,
why regret something i had once wanted?

take me to Bukowski's grave,
we can drink,
and talk about our past lovers
who left bad tastes in our mouths.
The ones who's clumsy hands,
left bruises on our,
fragile bodies,
we were treated so badly,
we did not deserve
any of the sadness
we did not deserve,
what we felt.
we poked needles
into our skin,
and injected unworthy people,
into our veins.
we were not whole.
we gave lovers parts of us,
we needed to keep.
parts of ourselves,
we thought we could never
get back
and then,
we
met
each
other.
and with you,
i am whole.

my love was born in the winter time. the crunch of frosted grass, the morning's dark and quiet- an endless sleep, but i am always awake. i love this life in the winter time. my lover was born in the winter time.

she invited sadness
into her bed,
and let it
**** her
all.
night.
long

meet me in the alley and kiss me. remind me how useless i am
i don't exist to please you anyway
its okay,
i know it anyway
we can never speak again after this,
it's
oh well,
whatever
nevermind.
the air here always smells like
cigarettes and ****.
I prefer portland, anyways.
i forgot to take my pills again
i'm not always like this
i'm sorry i'm like this
I still have so much to say,
you won't call back,
it's okay,
you'd just make me feel guilty about it, anyway

I let my hair grow long
until it's brown and thick
we're sitting on the floor
wine on our lips
the records playing
we're both getting lost
you've become so bored
of the place you once called home

you no longer smile
when you see the city you once loved
there's not as much comfort in the shades of blue
little do you know they're all shades of you
i wish i could get lost in your shades of blue
i just want to get lost in you

you're becoming bored of yourself
and the places you used to go
I wonder when you will get bored of me
and my hands you liked to hold
or the shades of blue in myself
i tried to hide
but they couldn’t help showing the times i  held you
when you cried

i don’t want to admit it
but i know you will go
because with people like me
what is there to love?

I’m just this crumbling sidewalk
you avoid on your morning commute
i’m the car in the junkyard
with bullet holes
my arms are rusted shut
but i will still reach for you
after it all

i’m not sick of your shades of blue
when i wake up to the curves of you
in the morning
the familiarity does not bore me,
it comforts me.
but it’s not like that with everyone
i get bored easily sometimes
but not with you.
my favorite city remains my favorite.
no matter how much I'm in it
I want to see the shades of blue
every day,
in your eyes, in your hair, in your lips, in your arms
I want to get lost in you with every step I take
on my crumbling sidewalk soul
These roads lead to you,
Always.

you will feel a rattling in your bones
and ask yourself
did you want it to hurt?
you fell in love
so you could be an artist
didn’t you?
Trust me, i did not know how to create,
But when i met you I think I learned how.
I wanted to make a home in your bones because
the first time we kissed
i felt a million tiny little butterflies
fly up my stomach and out of my mouth
while their tiny footprints stained the skin on my lips
I felt you with me.
your soul stained my lips
And no matter how hard i try to wash it off
you still linger here.
I showed you your favorite band and now you show them her
You stain her lips
I lie alone in the dirt
I told you i loved you
But now i’m not so sure
I awakened your soul,
But you’re sleeping next to her.

You taste like static
and your eyes look like hot coals
Let my body fizz
Ease me into your skin
I want to know what dying is

somebody asked, how i felt about you when we were together,
somebody asked how much i cared
the way i looked at you could explain it all.
how i felt for you does not need words.
i just know i felt it.
i felt it so strongly with you.
that’s why i stopped writing about you,
not just because you did not like it,
but because it wasn’t fair to you or i.
it would not give both of us enough credit for our beauty.
or care.
all i am sure of right now is that i still think of your voice,
every time somebody asks me what my favorite sound is.
and the only reason i am writing this
is because "emissary" is playing
i’m feeling everything again,
but i am not sure
if these feelings are going to last
much longer

ou wear three layers of clothing because you say that you’re always cold, yet you are the warmest person that I have ever known. I could make a home in your arms, wow, you are like the morning sky. Your mind is so colorful and vibrant. Not one part of you is dull. I took about one hundred pictures of the sun this morning, and I tried to compare it to your eyes, but , your eyes are more beautiful than the sun could ever be. And I am still trying to figure out how one person could ever be more beautiful than the sunset. You could do anything and still be beautiful, you could make me bleed, and I still would adore you. But you haven’t yet. I am waiting for you to kick my teeth in because I have made a shelter in your arms and I am waiting for it to burn down because everything that keeps me safe, eventually disappears. But, you are still smiling at me and I haven’t seen heaven yet, and I don’t believe in God, but, I think if heaven was real, it would look exactly like your smile and it would sound exactly like your voice.

I am a broken down street light
trying to find places where your name fills in the sidewalk cracks.
as the car's headlights beat down on my face.
Everything is quiet but loud all at once.
I try to forget everything
but it's one a.m.
almost a year later
and i'm still thinking about it.
I hope you feel my name in the cold air.
I hope you see my love for you in her.
I hope you see my face in the passing by strangers.
and maybe that you feel the same.
i wait for a phone call, or maybe even a text message.
something to fill the cracks.
i know i shouldn't love you.
but my stomach is aching
and my arms long for yours.
it's okay.
I will reach for the autumn air
it will feel the same as you.
text me.
tell me you never want to see me again
Tell me you don't love me.
fill the cracks.
text me.
tell me you're sorry
forgive me.
say you love me.
fill the cracks
i am constantly changing
but my feelings still haven't changed for you.
put me into a glass box
with butterflies and stardust
until I am not real anymore.
i don't know anything about reality
and please
kiss the pain away.
the phrase
"Get over it" will be flung at me a million times
and I was being honest when I said I don't think I ever will
text me
until I can no longer feel again.

Please text me.

I’m speaking with a ghost
as you record me your new song
onto a cassette tape.
and i think of how beautiful your body looked like-
draped in leaves
and first kisses
and how you lost your virginity
in a cemetery
you float by
your voice beautiful and sad
how it cracks and shakes.
singing about how the first girl you loved
took your soul-
and won’t give it back.
it wasn’t yours in the first place.

last year you tried to **** yourself on thanksgiving.
this year-
you didn’t come over for dinner
covered with the bedsheets
in a cold basement-
you told me how you tried to be more poetic-
softer-
stronger-
louder-
i put my head on your shoulder-
this thanksgiving -
you did not try to **** yourself.
you just stayed in bed & cried.

I watch the fields in Ohio turn from a soft brown to a decadent grey
as the ashes fall to the ground and consume you
waiting as the brown pools in the bottom of your mouth
As the soil pushes through-
stiff at the shoulders
soft in the stomach
I felt us become attached at the hip
as I asked you to pull the car over
So I can smoke a cigarette and stare at the moon.
how are you so bright and full?
like a streetlight hitting hard cold concrete
how could you make the stiffness so soft?
as the glow expands over the fields
I look at you, and the shadows of the dead trees
how wonderful they will come back to life in the summer
and so will we-
with our sunkissed knees
and the peeling of the skin
Softness smoothness
the most Vulnerable we will be near each other this year
stiff at the shoulders
Soft at the stomach
the fields stretch from Ohio to Virginia.
I wonder how I could apologize to you without saying any words.
without ******* myself
so I just point to the moon and hope it will be summer soon.
Hope that our skin will peel till it’s raw and fleshy,
And the soil will fall at our feet
as apologies.
the lighting bugs dancing around us.
I wonder if it will happen as I had once hoped.

& despite every good thing that had happened to him that day, he was still the loneliest person in the whole world, and he knew for a fact that money couldn't buy happiness, but money could buy cigarettes, which if he smoked them enough, it would eventually taste like happiness or something close to that.

i am stuck.
i gave you air to fill your lungs,
yet, you still chose to go to those who pollute them.
i gave you changing colors,
shades of yellow, red, orange and green.
yet, you love those who are only black and white.
i gave you a solid foundation,
made a pact to always be there.
yet, you went to crumbling concrete.
you made me feel like i was rotting
when i was still firmly planted on the ground,
and as parts of me began to fall around you,
you stood by me,
but looked into her eyes instead.

you stole my art and turned it into trash
*******.
i have oceans inside of me -
which you are turning into a puddle.
a
*****
*****
*****
puddle.
yet- still i am stronger
more full.
it feels like a cheap imitation
like when i read the words
they are familiar
and it seems like i’ve been robbed of my feelings
i tried so desperately to word correctly with my shakey hands.
did yours shake?
when you stole the words right off paper
did you feel it?
or did you want to seem like you felt it?
so you can seem sad poetic deep beautiful
how badly do you want to be ****** up?
is it so badly that you can dumb everything down
so that it barely even matters?
these words came from deep inside my bones
the ones that felt like breaking
when i wrote them
and the feeling will come over and over again
it will not always be poetic or pretty
learn that.
learn how to write and accept YOUR OWN FEELINGS
WHAT YOU FEEL.
not what somebody else feels
not what somebody wants you to feel.
this poem is not pretty
or poetic
it can barely even pass for a poem
but it was all me.

born into this:
not into the lights.
not into the fame.
not into the hopefulness.
born into this:
the sewers.
the dark.
the hopelessness.
you found us there one night.
you:
calm and still,
almost understanding,
carrying purity
in your bones.
you weren't just sprinkled with it,
you were drenched with it.
you could tell by the ever changing color of your cheeks
that you:
the purest of them all,
made the water clear
just by your very presence.
were you born into this?
your voice like a hymn,
eyes like the sky
heart like the sea.
born into the sewers?
the dark?
the hopelessness?
you taught us
there was light in the dark
with your gentle hands,
kind mouth,
open heart.
But your purity made us feel
like ****** up
***** angels.
if you
also born into this
could be so so pure
why couldn't we be?
you pulled yourself out of the sewer
and into the lights
the fame
the hopefulness
while we just sat here to rot.
Thinking
We had to be as pure as you
to ever succeed
but
My voice is not a hymn
Eyes not the sky
Heart not the sea
But
My voice is a thunderstorm
my eyes a hurricane
my heart a tornado
i do not carry purity in my bones
not sprinkled with it.
not drenched in it.
i carry a fire.
my hands could ignite the sky
could light all the darkness
Still
when you offered to help
i agreed
although
next to you
I remained looking like
a ****** up ***** angel
it didn't matter
getting out of what i was born into
was not easy
i scraped my knees
got lost
hurt
but you:
pure as ever
kept holding my hand
even when I slipped down onto the pavement
and had to start over
even when I got into the fame
The lights
the hopefulness
i still wasn't pure.
wasnt soft
not always kind
but I used the fire in my bones
things sparked
My voice thundered
and people finally heard
People could tell
I had a fire in my bones
by the way I spoke
the way I looked
the way I felt
they looked at me
the way we used to look at you
never had they seen someone with such spitfire
born into this:
the dark
the sewers
the hopelessness
but
i didn't stay
didnt rot.
pushed myself out of it.
sometimes you guide me past the sewer
where we all lied before
and I remember all of my friends
who are still there
still rotting
still sad
because they did not want
to appear ugly
next to you

there is no humane way to harm an animal
i say as you smoothly run the knife over my stomach
i am spilling out all over you
as you roll your cigarettes and touch my *******-
you do not look at the photographs i take
you do not read my poems
i am only a skeleton to you.
mount me on your wall
there is no humane way to ****** an animal
Tear into my flesh
Watch my body rot.
As it stretches and rolls and turns a pale green-
You know there is no humane way to ****** an animal-
But you like the taste.
I can smell it
The death dripping from yr mouth
deep crimson making a home for itself on your t-shirt
now,
It is 2:39 a.m. in west virginia,
You’ve been sitting in yr car for 2 hours.
On your phone searching for the perfect flowers
And how to repent for your sins
Jesus sits on the cross-
The cemetery is an hour away.
Smoke another cigarette-
You’ve got time.

i am not a flower
i do not need your sunshine to grow.
i am trying to be fine on my own.
rain or snow
do not get close.
i’ll be fine on my own.
although
I won't sleep most nights,
not because I'm lonely
it will be because
I'm scared when
time swallows me whole
and forces me to remember
how it stung in the shower
last December.

somehow this has all gotten lost in translation
people come and people go,
just like the dew on the morning grass.
yet we find ourselves
still trying to get used to it.
the impermanence of it,
arms lay stretched on your sofa,
records scratching against the needle,
none of us ever feel at home.
it is as if we have turned the act of care
as an excuse.
We are just two sad girls *******
to feel like we aren’t lonely.
this is not right and we know it.
but it feels like it
when i am pressed up against you.
i am lonely
and you know.
i have dreams of falling in love
in fountain square,
and when i wake up to you facing away from me
i feel a sense of disappointment
because i know
if i had tried harder
it could’ve been different.

Cigarette ash on your bedsheets
awake on coffee and tea.
I do not want to be the person
you know like the back of your hand
or for you to know the titles of every poem I have written
I want you to touch me distractedly.
I want a boy with a car and a mindset like yours.
we do not need to make ourselves into anything beautiful with each other.
we are ugly, empty poets.
therefore,
you love me for what i am.
but if you don't love me,
go ahead and tell me.
your tongue stained with coffee
you're not just some ******* artist
who is going to fill my heart with lilies
and paint.
and I want you to make it hurt as much as you ******* can.
teach me the world is cruel.
because if you can teach me how to write
love poems,
you sure as hell
can show me how to be dark
all over again.
this isn't about creativity
and this isn't art
this is existing.

when u left my world went grey
and i disappeared into the soil hoping to find u there
bc you were my world
still are.
i want to get over it.
i break my mental breakdowns into parts each week.
I’m on part 6 right now,
soon to be on part seven.
i drink more coffee now.
you drink tea.
my friends can tell when I am upset now
i frown and make my hurt visible
i do not speak
but sometimes it all comes out
part 7
and I am crying in the closet of my photography class
i tell them how i wish I was walking on the side of the highway
and how the ground seems more soft
than I could ever be
more warm than I could ever feel
they don't understand.
i wish they would.
they just nod and gently pat my back,
knowing if they did any harder, it would break.
you are soft
they whisper
you are soft
they touch my hot flushed cheeks
you feel warm
you feel warm
wipe my eyes,
makeup smears
don't wipe it off.
show them I'm weak.
wear your heart on your ******* sleeve
Let them know you are weak
Show them you're more than that
PART 8.
i texted you everything I felt
regretted in the morning but didn't at the same time.
Felt weak, knew I wasn't.
but that never stops the feeling
PART 9.
carved your name on my bed frame
along with all the reasons
because my friends say I'll never get over you
like it's a bad thing
but they don't know I can learn to live without you.
PART 10
know you may never come find me
but for everything a reason
for everything a reason

.

roses are red
romance is dead
i wish that my boyfriend
would give me head

I wonder how we both let it get this way. I look at you and a million feelings come back all at once. I am too scared to tell you how I feel. I still love you- at least I think I do.  I look at the sky and there is something familiar in it. The colors mixing in to create a beautiful mixture of red and blue. You body is a canvas, and I want to paint you with the sky. At this moment everything I have pushed in the back of my brain came flooding back. I remember how it was like before I loved you, the sky looks like it did when we first met. I close my eyes, and it begins to play in my head like some bad kind of love movie.
              When we first met, I was at a show for this band my friend liked. I didn’t want to be there. I was stuck with some people who I had little to no interest in getting to know. As horrible as it sounds, most of them had known each other for years. I couldn’t just force the connection they had all had. Almost all of me did not want to have any emotional attachments. High school is almost over and I don’t want to meet anybody I’m going to miss. That’s when I met you.  Your friend had dragged you along as well, and you looked exhausted just being there. You would lay your head on the car window and get lost in the passing by cars. You seemed to be able to drown everything out. Even with the Blink-182 blasting through the speakers in Emily’s old green VW. A lot of people may have thought you came off rude, but I think I understood. Not everybody has an ability to get lost so easily, I find it almost very profound in a way. You were in a world outside of mine. I was in a world outside of theirs. Simple and as complicated as that.
              When we were at the venue for the show, we all sat on the ground in a circle. I love circles, because you can see everyone’s faces, and their expressions when you talk to them. I sat across from you on purpose. I’m an observer. As cliché as it sounds, I think people are the far most beautiful things. Our friends were talking about the band, and we didn’t really say anything. I would say something occasionally to seem like I wasn’t completely out of touch, and I swear you’d look at me and smile. I would smile back letting all the sweetness around me flow towards you with just an expression as your tired eyes seemed to silently say “thank you”. As time went by the more I actually wanted to speak to you, and that killed me. Meeting new people terrified me, I was tired of hurting and I’m sure you were, too.
Time passed, we were supposed to go in the venue. We followed everyone, it was general admission so everyone was standing. Blue lights hit everyone’s faces making it look like we were in another universe. Our friends rushed to the front but we stayed behind.
              “You guys aren’t coming?” one of them yelled out.
              “I’ll meet you guys up there soon, I think I’m going to just look around for a bit. Just have fun!” I said forcing a smile.
              She gave me a wide smile, she looked so happy to be there. She ran off into the crowd, getting lost with them all.
“I want to get to know you.” the words stumbled out your mouth, and fell at my feet. I picked up the pieces gently and looked at your eyes,
“That sounds nice.” I breathed out, looking at the blue light hit your eyelids. There was so much to say. So much to do, and it was all beginning here, in our own little blue world. The space between us in a universe that I haven’t ventured into yet. I want to know all the small details about you. There is no music playing and there’s a million questions I want to ask you, but I knew a good start
“Nice to meet you, my name is Reily, what’s yours?” …
Suddenly everything is stopped. I am back to reality, where the blue world is dead. A universe I have already ventured into, that is now my own. I know the smallest of details about you, I know you more than I know anybody. The yellow light illuminates our pale faces, it’s cold but not too cold, and we’re on the roof of a parking garage and everything feels like a movie. We still don’t look at each other. We’re too busy staring into the empty space that occupies the air around us. I want to go up to you and hold your hand. I want to make the space feel less empty. You are shivering, as your black hair blends into the sky. The drugs made your face look really different. It's not how I remembered it. It is silent to both of us. We are too lost in the beauty of it all. The sounds of the cars, the people, everything is drowned out when we are with each other. We don’t think about the college rejection letters, the job applications, the things that make our lives real. I hope you forget about her like you forgot about yourself. I hope it brings you the peace you need. I want it to be like this forever. I walk over to you and lay my head on your shoulder, as we watch the cars drive off into the Fishers sky.  Everything seems to be drifting farther and farther away from us. I am scared. I want to ask you if the sky reminds you of us, too. I want to know if you remembered it all. I miss us so much. I hope you do, too.
We love each other but we don’t.
It’s as simple and as complicated as that.
And I think that scares me the most

Halloween of 2016
5th cigarette of the night
vanilla lattes from noble tea
instant film with double exposures
fishnets and all red
I remember you still
and I wish we could be in your house with cluttered feet
Handing out candy to the children dressed up as angels and demons
giving us breaks so you could put your arms around me
and I am not shivering in a cold car without you
this is what I want
from somebody
and I go to the front porch
Cigarette number six is now hanging limp from my mouth
and I pull out a ****** dating app and swipe
my self hatred grows.
I throw my phone across the street.
somehow the screen does not shatter
i try to find something hidden
the children are dressed up as demons
and i ache for more
I see you in them.
I miss the angels