Remember when I told you I never write anything
because I could never say anything that actually meant something?
Well, I lied
and recently I have tried so hard to make every word count
since I rarely get them from you anymore.
You always called me a liar,
you were kidding but you were right, you know.
Every i'm fine was a lie, all the i don't cares as well.
It always mattered and I was never okay.
Without you.
I never lied about how happy you made me
or how much you mattered or how much I -
whatever.
Also, my eating disorder had nothing to do with you
and I can't blame this rain on you and
I don't even have to explain that rain is just an easy word
for depression and suffocating every time I remember anything.
I know it's stupid I'd rather wait around awkwardly than talk to you and look you in the eyes,
but I simply can't be civil with someone I still want to kiss.
And ****. And sleep with and do all the things we never -
I mean you never -
had the time to do.
I know you'll roll your eyes now, but I love you. Or loved you.
I don't want to love anyone else. I don't know if I can.
Who am I kidding, I know I can, but that's not the point.
The point is I miss you like a flower misses its roots after it's been ripped off.
And I'd unlearn all these new habits just to fit your arms
the way I used to.
I'd lose all the new life in me just so you could pick me up and not crack you back.
And about that new life in me. No, I'm not pregnant. I'm just alive, I think. Or at least now I want to be. Sometimes. I don't want to die anymore.
But I haven't been happy, though. Not really.
And I'm sorry I'm weird and called you accidentally and said sorry about the thing you didn't even hear.
I don't know how to be around you. I'm not even talking about acting, see.
I can't breathe around you.
And I hate that we can joke about cheap pizza like we never fell asleep skin to skin.
And I hate how I can't talk to anyone anymore.
I loved talking to you, I could tell you everything
cause I knew you never listened.
I miss that.
Someone pretending to listen.
I miss someone not giving a **** about my unshaved legs.
I miss someone rolling their eyes when I talk about anything.
You were wrong when you said we have nothing in common.
We have, trust me.
I'm swallowing at least the same amount of pills that you do. I'm starting to believe in medication and socialism and, other things.
And all this is just talk
about nothing important.
Is it important that I almost hit a bus the day after?
Or that I screamed my lungs out when my mum told me I'll find someone new.
Funny. Do you still think I'm quiet?
Am I being emotionally manipulative again? Or was I ever?
Did you make it up to shut me up?
Do you believe in second chances?
Or thirds?
Did you have nightmares this time?
Did you regret it? Do you regret it?
Do you miss me?
Does your mother still make four cups of coffee?
Tell her I said hi. Tell her it was all your fault.

12:02 am i am lying awake and rolling around in bed but then i realise this is just another part of you in me that i must rip off of myself. i fall asleep with a salty moist pillow.

3:48 am i wake up and i wonder if it's yet the start of yet another way around the sun without you. it's not. and the sun never rises for me anyway.

6:00 am my alarm goes off. i turn on the lamp as if anything could light my path. i stay in the shower for almost three years, i can't touch my hair without feeling sick.

9:47 am someone touches my shoulder in the school hallway. it takes me a while to notice. is that my shoulder? and was that your hand? no.

2:52 pm i walk across the library to find something that could catch my eye like you did but all i find is my hands shaking cause someone smelled like you. i found a book about depression.

3:31 pm my feet are probably cold but how should i know when you're not here to tell me that? i bought new shoes.

5:02 pm i am in a car with my mum. she mentions how the rain is getting heavier again and how tiring the dark is. if she looked at me she'd never complain about the weather again.

6:26 pm my dad's throwing containers around the kitchen. you'd never do that.

7:02 i hold the door open for you and wait for you to walk through my walls again.

11:53 pm i lay on the sofa wondering if i still would see the starlight without you. i close the window. it's raining. my mother lights two candles and the other one just dies right away.

1:35 am i listen as the rain starts to scratch my window again. i hope water drops don't leave permanent trails.

my hands have been shaking
non stop
for the last year or so
and i am not writing this
because it stopped
it's just changing
like us
and the weather
and the sky
and nothing's changing
for the better
but you see, you kissed me
a year ago
and it wasn't much later
when i found myself in your bed
taking off your shirt
god i wish i remembered more
i just remember my hands shaking
every time you touched me
and so they shook
for six months
then you gave up
and i fell in love
and you'd stay in your room all summer
while i stayed at home
far from 'home'
and then the mornings got cold
like you
and my hands shivered all summer
and through the autumn
cause i was losing weight, and myself,
and you
i remember running my hands through your hair
not that long ago
like it would be the last time
not knowing it was
not knowing that when you told me
"i don't have much time"
you ment us
so now you're where you want to be
and that means not here
and that means gone
and now my hands shake
like the way they probably would
if someone was choking me
and i think it's unsaid words
and our memories
and your long gone kisses
that are wrapped around my neck
and i'd rather it be your hands
the way they used to

i love your sleep
the way you hold the blanket
closer than you hold me
it's like you
know the blanket will leave you
before i do
the way you roll around
like you're awake having trouble
sleeping but really you
couldn't be woken by a gunshot
but me whispering your name
has you up in three seconds
i've counted

i love your talk
even when i don't understand it
because you won't tell me about politics and
really i'd only want
to hear about it to listen
to your voice
i love how you lower your voice when
you get frustrated with me
i've never seen you yell
and i like that

i love your kiss
the way you lean down to me
cause we're not on the same level
the way you make me laugh
right before and then
pretend to get mad when i can't
kiss you right after
and then you just kiss my smile
the way you have a certain way to
kiss me when i'm wrong

i love your laugh
especially the one
that gets out of your lungs
like a wind on a summer night
when i kiss your neck

i love your compliments
even though i could never
tell my mother
what you said about the dress i bought
even though i
could never tell my friends about
the things you compliment

i love you
the way i see in colours when i'm with you
the way you light up
my day and my world
i love you
and if love doesn't exist
then i love the way we both think that way

I swear my skin feels like tears if you touch it soft enough,
and my hair smells like inability to show affection,
and a friend told me once that my eyes are the same color
as the sky on those nights when someone is going away for good.
My voice sounds like parents sleeping in seperate beds,
and when I sing I sometimes sound like the city lights that never light up when you really want them to.
I've heard my lips taste like the mornings you hear someone
get out the door before you've even opened your eyes
and the touch of my fingertips gives away that I've
had a hard time believing in love and it only gets harder
and if you listen to me breathe at night
you can tell you won't miss me as much as I will miss you.

Will you sing with me
in a car
driving on a highway
on the way
to the end of us?

Would you read for me
on my kitchen floor
until I fall asleep
to the sound of
you leaving?

Could we watch a movie
you've already seen
so you can predict the ending
the same way
you predict ours?

Can you tell me
where you like to be kissed
so in a year I can
ask if she
kisses you the way you like?

Would you shower with me,
pic a soap with your
favourite scent
and wash yourself
off my skin?

I always tell you how much I miss you. I talk about my dreams, so mostly I talk about seeing you in them. I'll never stop reminding you that you are not useless and that you can do beautiful things and that you are beautiful and that I like that blue shirt on you and that I like your smell and that I am not going anywhere.

You always let me know when I say something stupid, or act silly. I don't mind that. You always tell me I look nice when you take my pants off. I don't mind that, at all. You keep telling me you don't want to hurt me, or mostly it's yourself. You always ask if I want coffee in the morning (even though I never do, but it's nice that you ask). You let me finish your cigarettes. You hold me thighter when I say I'm cold. You don't get mad when I wake you up for no real reason.

You always say it's okay to come over when I'm crying on the phone because I miss you. You always remind me that it's okay to cry, and that I can tell you anything. Mostly I tell you I miss you. I say I miss you a lot.

*You never say it back, though.

I know I sing like an ocean that hasn't seen ships in decades. I know I sleep like a mother of a dead child. I know I talk to you like you're no longer here.

So I think if my heart was still beating it would be beating faster than your steps on the tiles whenever you walk away from me.

So we agreed to meet tomorrow and I am excited and I am terrified and I am getting ready to kiss you after two weeks and I am preparing myself for the famous "We need to talk" scene.

So I know I should be brave enough to talk about us with you but I know we weren't meant to fall in love but I realise we did anyway and I'm thinking again that maybe that was just me but I'm also thinking about your smile every time you see me.

So we should talk about how bad I feel whenever I'm not with you and about the reasons why it keeps getting worse but we've never really talked and recently we've not really even touched.

So will you pick me up at seven?

Sometimes I imagine what I would answer if you still asked me about how i'm feeling and I've practiced my reply for almost a week now. Sometimes I wonder if you still think I'm distant and to be honest it would be no wonder because I've never felt so detached. Sometimes I think I should be scared because of the fact that the last time we tried to have *** you said it wasn't about me, but..

*"I'm okay, it's okay, I've just read too much poetry lately"

You wear the sunshine on your skin.

i. your kisses are not supposed to be the only thing making sense in this world

ii. feeling your hand in mine is not supposed to be the only thing telling me you haven't left yet

iii. i really shouldn't be this happy about sleeping alone tonight

iv. i wonder if you're having dinner with her again

A part of me knows you're with me because we share the mutual feeling of belonging together. Because we make each other happier. Because we have trust and same visions. Because we know how to fall asleep next to each other.

A part of me knows you're with me because she left you. Because there's no one else for you at this very moment. Because you know I will always give you a second chance.

A part of me knows you're not even with me.

I used to love drinking and I think you had a thing for vomiting. You were always on drugs, until the end of last summer. From that point on I've only shared one glass of champagne with you. We were both high when we first kissed and neither of us have smoked **** since.

We have been on a much heavier drug from that night on.

(Or at least I like to think so even though you always say you only quit because you can't afford smoking these days)

I'm sleeping on the sofa under a blanket at 3:42pm and yeah I'm quite warm but I left the door open for you

The house is cooling down, the door has been open for five weeks now but thank God I've learned to set a fire on my own

The fire is fading because it is snowing through the door even though it's almost April and everything outside is grey just like your eyes

We were never good at promises, or letting go, or staying, or maintaining the right temperature for us, or maybe even being together

But I'm not closing the door

You said you'd come home

I wish I was a little less in love with you, that's all.

It's been a while now,
not too long though -
18 nights to be exact.

And I know this night
I will wake up at 4am again
just to hear you not breathing next to me.

And I know next morning
I will wake up wondering
if you woke up next to her.

And I know tomorrow afternoon
you will ask me how I've been
like you never knew me enough to know the answer.

I burned my lips
for the coffee was too hot this morning
again.

But I'm fine with that
for it felt better than anything else I've been feeling
recently.

You chose to be with her,
and that is very much alright,
and now I have this new sense of freedom

I feel like I could run to anyone or anywhere

But what makes this so ****** up
is that I'd still run back to you.

I'd rather be sober with you
than drunk with the rest of the world.