Have you ever started hanging out with someone new only to begin wondering why you want to bathe in their shampoo and make poetry out of the way their eyebrows look?!
WELL NOT TO WORRY!
I have a few simple steps you can follow to destroy those feelings.

Step 1: Imagine your grandma's lips every time you feel compelled to kiss them! THIS is a surefire way to never want to look at them again. The embarrassment will hit you like a train. Unless you do like to kiss your grandma. In which case: (shrugs)

Step 2: Keep at least 3 feet of distance between you at all times. You will soon become obsessed with the inches between you instead of the warmth of their body on yours. If you get cold, buy a blanket.

Step 3: Leave yourself voicemails until your inbox gets full. That way, when you ignore their calls, you don't have to say "no" to their voice, only to their name on a screen. That's if you even want to respond them at all, because we all know the best way to get out of doing anything is to completely ignore the problem!

Step 4: When your friends start to ask where this person's been, tell them you don't know; even though you've been keeping tabs on their tweets to make sure they're still okay without you. Make up lies to tell your friends. Tell them they left you, so your friends will feel compelled to tell you how they were never good enough for you in the first place and that this will get easier with time. The truth is, that you don't want to talk about them again because their name adds to the clockwork ache of your stomach like you've been skipping meals since their absence.

Step 5: Stop making room for someone who's not coming, stop saving seats for imaginary bodies.

Step 6: Get rid of anything that reminds you of them; your favorite tshirt, the art piece they bought for you hanging above your head board. Matter of fact, get rid of the headboard too. Make your room even emptier without them. Don't let yourself remind you of them either because you'll have to get rid of that too. So start running, change the shape of your body so no one will fit next to you like they did. But just in case, maybe you should just keep running. Don't slow down for anyone.

Step 7: Give yourself a new name. It will get easier to hear from someone else in case they say your old name the way the person you're running from used to. Tell yourself that this is okay because you've been starting to feel like a stranger to yourself anyway.

Step 8: when the house in your chest starts burning down, leave your old self inside it, leave the memory of them inside it. You always talked about how romantic it would be to die together anyway. Wear your smoke drenched lungs like a medal of honor, let it hang from your neck like a noose that snapped from the weight even though you promise you stopped eating your meals without them.

Step 9: hold your own body close at night. Keep the pieces of youself pressed together tightly with your own palms. Don't let their broken ceramic promises crucify your hands, don't make a deity out of them if they're not the ones dying for your sins.

Step 10: Everything is in place. Stand in front of your mirror and try calling yourself by your old name. Recognize the foreign language leaking from your tongue, understand that you have turned yourself into an empty tomb, a massacre disguised as a new body. You never knew pain until this moment, placing your hand on the reflection in front of you knowing you can't even get through to yourself. Ask yourself, was this worth it?

She tears up the pages,
Just as her eyes tear as well.
Everything she's done,
It means nothing.

But that's alright.
All the tears, all the anger,
It won't do anything.

So again and again,
She'll stand again.
Wipe away the tears,
And put on a Sasha-Fierce smile.

She'll grin and laugh all at the right times,
Tell us all those puns,
Making sure we are always laughing and smiling, and most inportantly,
Okay.
Even as she crumbles like a cookie,
Sweet and loveable.

But I swear to you,
There's too much to her,
No matter how many times we try to understand her,
She'll always slip away right when we think we got her.
Alone but in the most crowded room there is.
Metallica will play,
Children of Bodom swims around her mind,
Everything about her is its own music.

So distinct,
So catchy,
I don't think I'll ever be able to get it out of my head anytime soon.

full circle
I'm laying here with the window open listening to the rain for secrets or something or waiting for you to tell me what you haven't been telling me
like maybe there really is a girl out there with love in her eyes and flowers in her hair and her eyes are the kind of blue that is never mistaken for grey
she touches your chin before she kisses you, real softly or maybe she traces the spot above your lip where we all know angels rested their fingers before we were sent down here to rot or thrive
maybe you talk about gardens with her, how you'd never ever own an orchid cause that ***** ex of yours demanded one every hospital visit
how flowers aren't for boys but you'll pretend to watch football while you're really watching her bend down to touch the dirt like she used to smooth her baby brothers hair out of his little eyes
before their parents decided that it was more convenient to buy them a little apartment and keep money in the safe while they spent their pensions in Florida watching alligators and Dolphins and toucan ******* Sam but never at the same time
you see, I don't drink earl grey cause it tastes like fruit loops
and I don't eat fruit loops cause it tastes like the childhood I erased from my memory by forcing myself to dissociate
maybe this, is something else altogether
maybe this... is not true, another delusion, maybe your hands are busy counting change out for cardboard signs
maybe your feet move a little bit faster, not because you're in a rush to see someone who isn't me but because you're so scared of ending up back where you started

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.

Write, for instance: "The night is full of stars,
and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance."

The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

On nights like this, I held her in my arms.
I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her.
How could I not have loved her large, still eyes?

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
To think I don't have her. To feel that I've lost her.

To hear the immense night, more immense without her.
And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass.

What does it matter that my love couldn't keep her.
The night is full of stars and she is not with me.

That's all. Far away, someone sings. Far away.
My soul is lost without her.

As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her.
My heart searches for her and she is not with me.

The same night that whitens the same trees.
We, we who were, we are the same no longer.

I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her.
My voice searched the wind to touch her ear.

Someone else's. She will be someone else's. As she once
belonged to my kisses.
Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her.
Love is so short and oblivion so long.

Because on nights like this I held her in my arms,
my soul is lost without her.

Although this may be the last pain she causes me,
and this may be the last poem I write for her.