I don't get in my car
at 3 in the morning,
just to lock the doors
& scream with the music
turned all the way up

I don't drink mason jars
of whiskey on week days

I don't skip school
to chain smoke on my patio

And I don't use lighters
to burn holes in my arms

Not anymore

But I still wake up
some mornings,
scared speechless
that I'll waste an other day

And I still watch
the clock during class,
wishing it'd restart over & over
so I don't have to face myself
all alone on the way home

And I still lose my breath
randomly

I still feel my chest sink
without reason

I still say "my stomach aches"
because I don't know how to
describe the void growing
inside of it

And I still struggle

to smile at my parents,

to answer my cellphone,

to do my hair,

to wear nice clothes,

to write,
to write this ******* "poem"

I'm not crying anymore
No more swollen eyes

And I'm not bleeding anymore
No more scarred arms

But
I didn't get better,
I just got older

it's been a waiting game
these past four years
waiting to wake up
refreshed
and energetic
and productive
waiting to smile in the shower
waiting to
lay all of my weight into a monday
without shame from sunday
or fear of tuesday...
waiting to fall asleep
without
your voice in the back of my head
well today i woke up
impatient
and realized
that's the thing
I've been waiting to feel

I miss the cool air
that would radiate from your skin
and the crisp smell of autumn
that would waft from your jeans
when you'd climb into bed
fully clothed at 3 in the morning
I miss your cigarette breath
gently whispering "hi"
to me in my state of half sleep
and the way you'd always
leave the room at the exact
moments when I wanted
to hold you the very most
so that every second
you were out of reach
I was aching