you picked me up if your Honda, I could hear you coming from a mile away.
I had waited weeks to see you. my heart was the happiest it has been since before you ended it with me.
you took me for a long 130mph ride, and it was so thrilling
but not as thrilling as knowing I was in your car next to you.
afterward, you slid off to a side street before you took me to my house.
you kissed me and I felt on fire and electric like an any moment you and I would spark into flames.
you took yourself out of your pants and I so obliged because I wanted to.
next thing I knew your hand was on my next and you were moaning and I was swallowing.
you said 'take your ******* off' and I did - I was always submissive with you.
you didn't take your time, you did it over and done with. quick.
after, you drive me to my house, and said 'I gotta go' and put your first out for a fist bump.
my hand nervous, took the action as simple.
I slid my ******* into my purse, and got out of your car.
and before I knew it you were driving away.
is this this what a year and a half and then breaking up looks like?

BUT YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO JUMP IN BED WITH PEOPLE WHO MAKE YOU FEEL LIKE FIRE. BECAUSE ONCE THEY’VE GOT THAT PART OF YOU, THAT’S IT; THEY’RE DONE. YOU BECOME USELESS AND THERE’S NOTHING YOU CAN DO EXCEPT FEEL USELESS.

I’d be lying to myself if I said I was in love with you.
and I’d be lying to myself if I said I wasn’t, too.
and I don’t know why right now I started thinking about you so intensely but I am.
and every time I see that stupid velveeta commercial,I think of you. you are gold and you make me melt.
and I hope that she treats you well and gives you everything that you need
and I hope you treat her well too.
and I hope that she bakes you homemade goods like cupcakes and cookies and brownies all the time.
I ******* miss you.
I really ******* miss you.
and I often think about driving to your house and telling you that this is where you’re supposed to be but I already know the answer to that statement and I know that it ***** and I know that I was awful sometimes and we were **** people and I know that I would do anything to make you feel like you would want me again and that *****. see the thing is is that everyone said they would stop hanging out with me if I ever got back together with you and when they ask how I feel about you I lie and say that I’m getting over it but I, not getting over it and that *****. you are this tattoo that still sting on my heart and I am trying to rip the seams of you off of my skin but it doesn’t seem to be working and something in my heart tells me to keep hanging on and to keep hold of all of these memories but I can’t. something is holding me from throwing away all the stuffed animals and love letter. so I have them in a box because sometimes my brain is right. but sometimes it’s not and I am having a hard time knowing which one to follow at this point. and I miss your laugh. I miss the way you would kiss me under fireworks every Fourth of July and hold me until I fell asleep. I miss you intensely. and right now in this moment I want to call you and ask you how you are and I am… empty. this isn’t a void some random person can come into my life and **** me senseless to change. only you, with a simple glance. god, I want you back so badly. and I ****** it up. the one person I cared about i ****** it up.
I am literally empty without you.

i was laying in bed with one of my closest friends
and we were talking about the 1-10 pain scale.
He said 'even if it's the worst pain, it's always a 9. you could get 100 on a test and you'll only be in the 99th percentile. there's always something more, even at 10 being the most.'
and i've thought about this,
in depth,
and i think i've felt a ten.
like when i missed my niece birthday party and had to watch her blow out the 4 shaped candle over facetime.
when i missed my nephews concert, and they sent me an invitation anyways.
when he said 'i love you, but i'm not in love with you anymore'
or now,
with you,
wanting you but knowing i can't have you
that's my 10.

he wanted to have *** with me in my car,
and we might've if i hadn't stopped him.
because he would kiss me
and i would wish i was kissing you.
and he would touch me
the way you touched me.
and he wanted to have *** in the passenger seat of my car,
but all i could picture was you on top
of me.
the way the world was ours in the sense,
we didn't care how long it took or the fact that it was freezing out.
we just kept doing it.
and i can't stop thinking about it,
even every time i sit in my car.

Did it work out the first time around?
Do you still roll over in the mornings,
Look at him,
And think to yourself 'this is the best moment of my life'
Or
Are you here and he's there?
Are you still waiting on his phone calls,
Waiting for him to say 'I love you and I need you back'
Have you sent letters,
Emails,
left voicemails?
Telling him of every set of scars that spell out his name
Right in the center of your chest?
Because if it worked out the first time,
Write a book.
Let the bitter ones know what it's like.

Wanting something you can’t have is one of the worst feelings
If I convince myself hard enough
That I have no feelings towards something
Maybe I won’t
So I act like I don’t care
But ponder it so much it drives me
Crazy
You drive me crazy
And I know that theres nothing that I can do about it
Because no matter how many feelings you say you have for
for me,
I will never be enough.
Maybe the word
“Enough” isn’t enough of an explanation
Maybe where -
I want to sleep with you,
And wake up next you,
Even though your mind if pondering sleeping
Next to the body of someone
Warmer than me,
The pity talk
Where you say
“Just sleep with me tonight”
When I say that I hate sleeping alone
Its like this way,
Where you could have anyone you wanted to
And I’m just this girl
Just this girl
But I will never be
That girl
Not for you
And probably not for anyone.
And its like
You go to see someone else
After making out with me,
And I can do the same -
But I will constantly be thinking about you when
Im with another person.
******* complicated.

The way I loved you was exhausting.
Throwing every fiber of my being in to loving you,
Only to hit a brick wall.
Your closed heart had me searching for doors,
Or maybe a window,
****, I would have been fine with a crawl space,
I could crawl through to get to you.
I was like a book to you,
One that you could never bring yourself to read
Past page three.
And you,
An entire novel I wanted,
First edition,
Signed Copy.

Does she know that when you sleep, your left leg twitches?
And does she know that you prefer equal amounts of peanut butter and jelly on your sandwiches?
Does she know that you make promises you can't keep?
Does she know every single way to touch you and every moment you've ever cried because of your father?
Does she know we ****** in the backseat of your car?
The front seat?
Your bed, couch, grandparents counter, stairs, every place you could lock doors and call me yours?
Does she know you like forehead kisses?
And does she know you promised me infinity over and over like they were the last words you would ever speak?
Does she know that you hate being told you're just like your father?
And does she know all the things that I do?
Or have you hidden them away?
And has she excavated who you are,
from the roots of where you lock yourself away?
Does she know that you hate the way poetry comes out of your mouth,
and that you love to write love letters?
Does she know you?
Or are you as happy as you're pretending to be?