Imagine that your skin was constantly damp and cold.
Then you met somebody who's skin feels like fire.
With every handshake, hug, or kiss you suddenly switch on just those two specific areas.
Your lips are hot and smoking. Smouldering like embers.
While her lips freeze a bit.
Frost crawling over them like a wave.
And in a perfect moment you two have given parts of your being to each other.
For your lips are burning
For none but her

i. Metal cannot protect you. Car frames can distort just as much as bodies when heavier things get placed on them. Maybe the pole splitting your car in two is some kind of metaphor for the way you keep driving into your thoughts head on and they never seem to budge, only you do. You will twist and break open just to accommodate the sturdy burden of yourself.
ii. Locked doors sometimes keep out the ones who are trying to help you. I know they always tell you that it’s safer to be selective of who you let in, but when you can’t reach the door handle, not everyone will have a crowbar to pry your locked doors open. Sometimes, they have to wait for someone stronger, someone better equipped to deal with what you have to offer. Sometimes, they just keep driving.
iii. Seat belts are necessary. Some days, people stop without warning, break lights broken to test your reaction time. Only, I don’t think anyone has ever had that fast of feet. Maybe you should start taking walks.
iv. Checking 6 times for cars before you drive through an intersection can become a ritual. You would prefer the sound of impatient car horns behind you than be made a memory, made black tire tracks and pieces of glass right before the point of safety, made the definition of almost – the type of grave that you can’t keep visiting at after a while. Is that why you stopped coming over? Did my tombstone body pull the click of your trigger and turn you into lowered eyes and choked laughs?
v. Even if it’s not your fault, the other person will not hesitate to put the blame on you to save themselves the trouble. The cost of both your repairs is detrimental to their wallet, and they would rather watch you scramble to pick up all the pieces of their own apologies to make it seem like you’re forming your own. But don’t not be tempted to put them back together if you don’t have the money for it and they are undeserving. Never suffer more than you have to.

the only time you dream about her anymore is when you’ve drank so much you swear you can see her name at the bottom of the bottle and suddenly you’re punching your fist through the dry wall and calling out for her like maybe she’ll answer like maybe that’ll bring her back. it kind of makes you think that dreams aren’t random because you wake up thinking you can still smell her on your sheets and your chest caves in and you think maybe the part where she comes back isn’t the dream, maybe the dream is the part where she ever left in the first place. you keep looking at your hands and you can’t remember how to keep them from shaking because she always did it for you and now they aren’t shaking because you’re nervous but because her smile won’t leave your mind and every time that song comes on you have to turn it down otherwise you’ll hear her laughter again and this time you don’t think you’ll be able to survive the pain. you walk down the street and you think you can see her curly hair and her pale skin but you remember she’s gone she’s gone she’s gone but she’s never really gone because you can still taste her on your tongue every time you drink whiskey or red wine or anything, really it’s like you can’t remember anything but her. you can taste her on your lips like she’s still here with you but your fantasies are always ruined by the memory of her leaving and your arms feel empty even though she was gone before she was ever really yours to hold and you ask yourself why you can’t read books anymore you tell yourself it’s not because your eyes only see her name it’s not because every word on the page reminds you of her tell yourself the reason you don’t write anymore isn’t because all you can ever write anymore is her name stop remembering the way she held onto your hips so tightly like she was scared you were going to fly away and maybe you were but you always wanted to fly away with her but she was too fragile and the wind took her away you tried so hard to hold onto her you tried you did you did you did

Why am I told I'll be the perfect guy
For that special girl
Yet I find myself
Here all alone

Why does my heart
Fall faster than the speed of light
Yet I'm too blind
To notice when the time is right

Why does the me inside
Enjoy such rollercoaster rides
Yet me on the outside
Just wants to break down and cry

Why is it I'm speechless
When I see your eyes
Yet my mind
Just speeds on by

Why am I so weak
My heart crumbles, it just breaks away
Yet I stand rock solid
Smiling on through everyday

I've been reading over my old writing
And I see something in my art
It's scary and I don't know why
I'm scared of what my most visceral art is
That raw ******* emotion will rip me apart if I drew it
Or painted it
Or bleached it
Or whatever
I created a prison of words for my most painful emotions
It ******* hurts so ******* much
And I'm so ******* scared of who I am