She kissed me
not because
she wanted to
but because
she could.

We fell in
love.
Not because
we could
but because
we wanted to.

We made
mistakes.
Not because
we wanted to
but because
we could.

We thought
we were
perfect.
Not because
we could
but because
we wanted to.

I vomited in
the bathroom
of a
Baltimore
7-11
because
sometimes
you cannot
hold it in
much
longer.

Her hands shook
as she held her
mirror
because
sometimes
your reflection
can only
tell you
so much.

My body shook.
Her body stiff.
And when
the bodies
move
the hearts
stop.

She lied some.
I drank words.
The veins
in hands
are maps
to imagined
consciousness.

Really,
it's just
a
*******
*****.

Music to
my ears.
Nervousness
between
blinks.
Noise to
my brain.

She said,
"I love you"
not because
she wanted to
but because
she could.

I said,
"I love you, too,"
not because
I could
but because
I wanted to.

It used to be fun but I’m not myself anymore. This brand of whiskey has two first names, the latter name plural, Cheap and vile. Swig. Shot. Giggle. Hold his gaze. Break it. Sip mixed with coke. Gulp. Chug. Chew the ice. Suppress urge to *****. Is my nose bleeding? No—just runny. Still numb. Too many lines. Euphoria beats sitting home alone wanting to hang myself, but I shouldn’t have done this. He touches me. Laughs. What a narcissist, a drunk ******* narcissist. I want to slap him. Instead I reach for his belt. How are my hands functioning? He helps because I’m struggling. We laugh. We get naked. I stumble on top. There it is. Turn my face away because we don’t kiss. I’m sweating. How long have I been here? His shoulders and head are leaned back, his hips thrusting upward. His slight cringe and increased breathing indicates I’m done. I rise. He smiles. I fake it. Get up and get dressed. My heart is pounding. I should shower. I put on my bra, then dress (where’s my underwear?)

I bet she's tall and pretty
I bet she doesn't even need makeup to be stunning
I bet she stays up late with you and sends you late night texts
I bet you two get drunk and high together
I bet she has no qualms about sending you **** pictures of herself
I bet she is in the "popular" crowd
I bet she doesn't complicate everything
I bet she has never cut herself or tried to **** herself or starved herself
and I have done all three
I bet she is everything you ever wanted
I bet she is someone you would miss like crazy if she left you
I bet you barely remember my name
I am the one who sits at home and reads with a cup of tea and a hoodie on
She is the one who goes out and parties, gets drunk and high and strips
I wish you would miss me
Just a little bit

Thank you for teaching me what it means to find someone not only attractive, but incredible, but know better than to sacrifice who you are to make them like you.
That's pretty much the best thing you taught me.
Other than that, you just **** and really hurt me.
That's about it.
So thanks a lot.

except for the walls

and if those brown and gray walls could speak,

I doubt they’d choose to tell.

Those walls are the only four who know “us”

the way I know “us”:

Our thumbs in each other’s palms,

Our touches innocent,

But lingering just a bit too long

You said,

“We should go home soon”

But I knew you meant,

“I’m sorry.”

If I can find a guy who will watch "When Harry Met Sally" with me, without complaint, and will be okay with me talking through the entire movie, at 1 AM on a weekday even though we both have to work in the morning with tea, chocolate, and a fuzzy blanket, while I wear ugly sweats and an oversized hoodie with no make up and messed up hair, and somehow, if he can still find me beautiful at that moment, I know I've found the one.