"Never again shall I ravage her body
As if it was nothing more than a crypt,
That I won the key to in gambling.
Instead.
I shall treat her flesh as if it were
A temple.
A temple that that I'd truly never
Be worthy of.
Of it's touch, it's grace."

i am grateful for stretch denim on days
when
          **** it
is a fashion statement
for lavender laundry detergent
because that smell reminds me of the home i've built in my head
for tea at
2 a.m.
when all the things i've done race in my head
because the next morning, i usually get my **** together
for colds
because they make eating an entire roll of cinnamon buns
completely justifiable
for the mountains that surround me
for NPR and good, rated M fanfiction
for def poetry when i can't find the right words
for finding a pack of cigarettes when it is only
11:30pm on a thursday night
and i am well past drunk in a slightly damp armchair
for harry potter and neil gaiman
for when twenty dollars fills up my gas tank
for my grandma's potato salad and biscuits with honey
for feminist zines that make me want to smash the patriarchy
for burts bees chapstick and jasmine-green tea
for friends who let me cry on their
bedroom floors
for books that keep me entertained
(even if that means me crying in my bathtub while reading them)
for courtney love and joan jett because those *******
have ridden in my car with me over many
heart-breaks
for well-water and sulfate free red wine
for johnny cash and new orleans and whiskey
for salt-- because that **** can wash away anything
for farmer's markets and co-ops
for bottles of water  and for cookie dough
when my mouth
is the consistency of cotton  and my mind is a little bit gone
for warm days in January and cold days in September
for breakfast and for hikes that begin at five a.m.
for summer nights drunk on wine and a little too much fire
for friends who call me 'momma bear' and for friends that call me 'baby bird'
for poems that give you cold chills
and flowers stolen from my neighbor's yard
for skin that smells like the sun and sage
for beeswax candles
and the smell of clean laundry
for days when i wake up and realize
i could have died on a bathroom floor

The problem is I do like him.
I certainly hate him
But I also like him.
I like the way he capitalizes the beginnings of his sentences over text,  I like the cute little crinkles that appear in his forehead when he smiles
The coy way he responds to flirtation with something like "Oh really now?"
I like how he calls things "sweet", the way he says "aww" I even f!cking like his annoying as hell overuse of the phrase "haha" when he texts which ****** me off,
I like how he is the only teenaged boy I know who says something is "quite" fun and how he uses the word "lovely" to describe things because no one uses that word anymore and more people should.
I like how he has an immense love for Spiderman,
How he has all these aspirations of travelling all over in the future
I like how he wants to live in England one day, I like that he is into cooking and drinks coffee and hot chocolate and how his favorite book is "Looking for Alaska" and how he's read everyone of John Green's books and how he wants to be a writer one day.
I just remember the dumbest little things that I still like about him
For instance how he likes Neil Gaiman and loud screamy music even though I hate that stuff, how he is the only one in his fractured family who doesn't speak French but his older sister and mother do. He has a dog named Charlie and when he was a kid he always spelled "subtle" wrong. I just don't know *** is wrong with me I should have known better. I should hate him for half this stuff and all the rest of the reasons I have to loathe him but it's hard to forget those little details about him. I just hate feeling like a broken lock. A lock of dark secrets and completely irrepairable. Though it's not the fact that Im irrepairable that bothers me as much as feeling so... replaceable. Idk. Maybe I need to go out with someone to get him out of my head.

It's official
You've relinquished all the pieces of me you claimed so long ago
The pieces of my heart you've kept under lock & key breathed fresh air for the first time in years
I felt my chest constrict
And then total nirvana
This
This must be what it really means to be over someone
And Gods does it feel good
I can breathe through my nose again
And not smell Old Spice and ink
I can write a poem and it not reek of longing for someone who no longer exist
You are truly not mine anymore
And I have to say that this is a look I feel **** good in