I wish I could tell you about
all the late night drives
I had to take this summer,
and how I would think about
you every second.
I swear to god there were
times I would pass your exit
on the highway
and I would almost turn around
and drive straight to you.
But I haven't seen you since April,
and considering it's now September,
I'm sure you don't think of
me much.
I would listen to your old
voicemails, and sometimes
I would almost swerve into
lanes because my eyes
would be blurry from the tears.
I always thought to myself,
if the last thing I heard
was you whispering
"I love you"
through the phone
on an open road at
midnight, I don't think
I would quite care.

I'm cutting my hair.
My mom thinks it's cute,
But I don't really care.
You touched it so it now means nothing but split ends and bleach in my skull.

I'm cutting my hair;
You're not welcome here.
I hope you hate how it looks and I hope my dad hates it, too;
New season new me is the cliché I chose.

I'm cutting my hair:
I like it more than I ever liked you.
You are dead ends and fine words.
I hope my dust fills your lungs and you long for me;
But I don't care,
I'm cutting my hair.

I'm cutting my hair because it's gross,
More gross than you and your venom kiss.
I'm cutting my hair because it's cute;
I'm cutting my hair because I despise you.

I’m at the sink holding scissors and razors;
I wish they were as sharp as your eye for imperfection.
I look in the mirror,
But I don’t see myself;
I see someone stronger and wiser and better than you.

Can you recognize such a pretty little thing?
Makeup smeared across my lips,
Chunks of blonde missing?
Would you even care if these scissors slip,
Scaring my face and obstructing your view?

Did I ever mean anything to you?

But why do I care?...
I already cut my hair.

A piece of my heart is gone.
You carry it around with you
And only when you are with me
Do I feel whole again.

I love reading your books
but cannot anymore.
I burst into tears
each time I open that door,
the one that leads into
the library of your heart.