my mom always told me to go after boys like you. guys who stuff their heads so far up the bible that they don't and wouldn't prefer anything else. guys who's looks are average but look striking when they put on a suit and tie. and guys who love going to his sanctuary on Sundays and Wednesdays. she told me that they were always the good ones and that i could always make a home out of one, but she was wrong. because you can't make a home out of anyone no matter how good the person is or may be. so when i met you, and got to know you, i tried. i tried to make a person my home, but you just weren't up for it. your arms weren't my blanket but they made for a nice hug. and your chest wasn't my pillow but they made for a good head rest. and to be totally honest, that was all you were up for. because you always whispered to me, "come in" but the more you said it the more it sounded like, "get out" and me not wanting to believe the latter, i chose to believe the first and god, was i stupid. because all along you were telling me that your arms weren't a blanket and your chest wasn't a pillow and your heart had a cage around it for a reason but i just didn't listen. you were just too nice to tell me that i could never be your home and you could never be mine. because you knew that home is a place and it can never be a person. you were just too afraid to tell me.
                                                                                                            {relaxxvdd}

your hands aren't made of fire,
but when we touched you left a burn on my skin

my skin isn't made a glass,
but you always seem to see what's within.

a tongue has no bones,
but it can break a heart.

and your tongue has proved that true,
because it tore my heart apart

i'm tired of getting used to someone. because something always happens and either they move, i move, or we simply just stop talking to each other. and that's what's happening between me and you. i had to move away and we seem to be talking less & less. i miss you. i miss you more than my fingers miss scraping a pencil against paper. and i ******* love you. i love you just as much as the stars like to be formed into constellations to create little connect the dots that represent stories. maybe even more. and i don't think that i could deal with losing another person who's personality that i adore and who's ambition that i admire and a person that seemed to become a part of me. god, i'd hate for you to read this because being poetic nowadays is outdated and quite frankly, i'd be very embarrassed if you knew that i felt this way about you. and if you don't think that i genuinely care about you, please tell me, when have i ever missed you more than right now? because we're miles and miles apart and all i can manage to do is reach for your hand.

i'm just a really sad poem with feet. my inner most thoughts and feelings are written all over me for everyone to see. i'm a freak show everyone sees just how unhappy i am with myself because i'm a poem and i'm supposed to express, right? isn't that what i'm supposed to do? well, i used to believe that i wanted to be the poem instead of the poet, but now, i think i change my mind.

years before my cycle of puberty even began,
people like you,
taught me to loathe myself.
i was very often told that i should always be me,
but when i did,
society quickly retorted, "no, not like that."
i was picked on for being quirky
but ragged on when i attempted to be average.
people wanted different
but no one wanted change
so how was that exactly supposed to work?
i was fed insults
and i bathed in self pity
and i washed my hair in humiliation
and all the rude remarks and insults that society fed me,
i threw right back up.
because it was the only things that i heard,
it was the only things that i knew
and the only things that i would think.
people like you taught me that since my skin isn't perfect,
no one would want to touch me.
people like you taught me that since i have a muffin top,
no one would want to hug me.
people like you taught me that since i don't live up to the stereotypes,
no one would want to befriend me
and people like you taught me that since i wasn't so easily manipulated into taking off my clothes and showing off the parts of me that even i didn't like to see,
boys wouldn't even dare come near me.
so when,
and if,
you get to know me,
don't blame me for not loving myself,
when people like you were telling me not to.

I'M REALLY SORRY THAT I CAN NEVER BE YOUR MOON DESPITE THE FACT THAT YOU WERE ALWAYS MY SUN. AND I'M REALLY SORRY THAT I TOOK ALL OF OUR INTELLECTUAL AND DEEP, TRUST FILLED TALKS AND CONVERSATIONS FOR GRANITE. AND I'M SORRY THAT MY FINGERS WILL NO LONGER TRACE DOWN YOUR SPINE AND MAKE YOU LAUGH. AND I'M SORRY THAT I CAN TRUHFULLY SAY THAT I WASN'T HE BEST OF A FRIEND TO YOU IN THE BEGINNING. AND I'M SORRY THAT I PUSHED YOU AWAY WHEN I REALLY WANTED YOU TO STAY. AND I'M SORRY THAT WE CAN ONLY HAVE CONVERSATIONS OVER PHONE THAT ARE SOMEWHAT AVERAGE. AND I'M SORRY THAT I MELT EVERY TIME YOU SAY SOMETHING SMOOTH AND YOU-LIKE AND SWEET. AND I'M SORRY THAT IM CLINGY NOW AND FOREVER WILL BE. AND I'M SORRY THAT THE ONLY EVER GOODBYE I CAN TRULY EVER GIVE TO YOU IS FRAMED IN BETWEEN THE WORDS OF I MISS YOU. AND I'M REALLY ******* SORRY THAT I FELL IN LOVE WITH YOU BUT TRIED SO HARD TO PUSH THAT THOUGHT IDEA SO FAR OUT OF MY HEAD. and i'm really extremely sorry that it worked.

the worst goodbyes are the ones where the word goodbye doesn't even pass out of either person's lips.
when time just seems to move along and you don't even notice that everything has changed until you put on your glasses and take a better look.
the worst goodbyes will always be the ones where promises are torn to shreds and no one will ever be there to mend them.
when a memory and a story blur together so immensely that you can't even tell the difference anymore
the worst goodbyes will always be when you pick up an old photo on the corner of your mirror and think,
"****, what the hell happened?"
the worst goodbyes are when you wake up at 3:23 am and you tumble & mess around on your phone just to find out that they're up too. but you can't message them simply out of cowardice and fear.
when your own finger can't press a single **** button to send a message because you know that what you two had is fading and you most likely will never bring it back.
the worst goodbyes are when the only goodbye you will ever get is framed in between the words of, "i wish nothing changed" and "i miss you."
when all you can seem to write or think about are the memories and the laughs and the smiles and the jokes
the worst goodbyes are the ones that you can't even fathom to think about because it feels like someone is plunging a dagger into your chest and slowly taking it out every time you do.
when the photographs plastered on your mirror & wall and the pictures saved and locked into your photo are filled with nothing but nostalgia.
and let me ******* tell you,
the worst goodbye will forever and always will be the
the story of us
the story of me and you
and you know it.