In this moment all I can possibly wonder is the way I will remember you,
Will I remember the sweat on your bottom lip, like thumb tacks puncturing a map,
Puncturing the places I would like to visit;

Or will I remember the way your eyes look in sunlight,
Iridescent and blue like the sea the day after a storm.
Except you are not a reflection of something else.
You have not shriveled up and died,
Or reserected yourself from your most sinuous nightmare.

I always wanted to take you apart ; leave your fragments to sun dry.

That is the silver barrier that separates us,
I am wasted potential, a sick twisted mind, I will spit in your mouth and smile.
I have been thrown to the vultures,
And although I clawed my way out,
Something inside of me has died.
A candle has burned out;
And then there’s you.
And you light up the sky with sparks,
And set my whole world ablaze.

We are burning,
Burning down the cities and engulfing the towns,
Swamping the planet with embers.
We are a flood of inferno,
A glittering holocaust.

I have loved before, and that was much softer,
It’s different when you don’t know how bad it hurts. I could write a book about all the different places in my body I felt heartbreak.

I wonder if I will always carry this flame with me. I could keep my heart in my pocket, leave my memories in the photo frames and card board boxes.

Oh dear,
If only it was that easy.

In the past year I didn't forget the agony i went through, scrolling through profiles of people you might be interested in, people you might value more than me.
I didn't forget all the blood-chilling nights, where I simply longed for you. Every 11:11 was dedicated to you, to wishing you would love me. Every 12:12 was dedicated to me, wishing I didn't love you.
Every day and night, every afternoon and morning, every minute and hour; there you were. Swimming through my thoughts, diving headfirst into my dreams.

And the worst part is, you didn't care. You knew, somewhere in your mind, that you were killing me.
Of course, it isn't your fault you didn't love me, but who's fault is it that i was hopelessly in love with you?
I don't know if i should blame myself, for not listening when i was warned, for not running when i was pushed, or if i should blame you for using me.
Using me to raise your self esteem, to make her jealous, to entertain yourself. Who's fault is it, that every october is going to hurt for the rest of my life?
That every spring breeze will sing of you?
I have tried it all. Pretending you never existed. Coming to terms with what happened. Anger. Forgiveness. All of it. Sadness, acceptance, grieving, whatever else there is; i've done it.

I blamed myself, I blamed you, I blamed her.
Maybe it's all of our faults.
We all took a part in the chaos.


But nobody has ever told me what to do when the tragedy ends and all that's left is brittle bones and broken windows.
How do you rebuild a body, after a tornado?

Maybe if I change my name,
I'll forget yours.

Maybe if I break this body bad enough, I will forget the way yours felt.

If I rip the skin from my bones, if I pull the hair from my skull, If i bend and break myself until I look in the mirror and see a stranger,
maybe then I will forget how it felt to love you.

A green screen doesn’t hide who you are,
It hides where you come from, and
I want to dig into your throat and pull out the
Memories you choke down with your coffee every morning,
As if they are seaweed caught in the ocean’s esophagus preventing it
From breathing;
I want to pry your ribcage open with a crowbar and take out the
Raindrops that are drowning your heart so you will be able to
Smile without throwing up,
I want to give back whatever this solar system took away,

I wish you would let me in because I am the sunshine you need
To melt away the nuclear hailstorm inside of your skull,
I am the first flower of spring that reminds you that winter will be over
Soon all you need to do is hold on,

Your past is a part of you,
And if you keep it in a cage
You will never be able to tame it.
Take down the green screen, put down your coffee cup,
And I will give you the stars that the night stole from you,
Because the mistakes you made are not tied to your soul.
You are what radiates in this world,
Let me give you a love that is reciprocal,
That is the love that you deserve.

trying to recall the words
you said to me in my nightmares
just trying to remember
the way it felt to see you there
memories i forgot i had
suddenly so clear
confused and alone
hearing your voice in my head
saying i told you id meet you here

some nights you say things that stay in my brain
like that you can’t replace me
and no one else makes you feel the same
some nights i feel like you’re right there
a million miles away from me but
i feel you everywhere
but some days you disappear
some days there’s nothing worth saying
im so happy when you come back
until i remember you’re not staying
so i guess i get confused
on if i want to be farther or closer
i cant leave you where you’re at
until you give me closure
and maybe ill wish upon a star
or pick a four leaf clover
whatever i need to do
to stop this from being over

IVE NEVER HAD THE CONSISTENCY I CRAVED UNTIL I WAS FACING BACK TO BACK DEPRESSION THAT ONLY SLOWED WHEN I SLEPT AND I WANT SOMETHING THAT WILL LAST AND SOMETHING THAT WILL ALWAYS STAY AND I WANTED THAT SOMETHING TO BE YOU, BUT INSTEAD IT WAS THE ACHE IN MY BONES AND HEAVINESS OF MY HEAD, MY LUNGS DRIED UP AND YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE A DRINK OF WATER BUT YOU WERE AN OCEAN WITH ROUGH WAVES THAT WERE ABOVE MY ******* HEAD AND I DESPERATELY WANTED TO BE THE ONE TO CALM THE SEAES BUT THERE WAS NOTHING CALM ABOUT YOUR HANDS AND MY CONFESSIONS AND HOW AT THE END YOU WERE EXPLORING SKYLINES WHILE I WAS STRUGGLING TO BREATHE

the emptiness will not go away,
no matter how many times you
give into it.

I LOVED YOU CARELESSLY AND SLOPPILY, LIKE YOU HAD ANSWERS ID SPENT MY LIFE SEARCHING FOR AND I LET BOYS DIVE INTO MY HEART HEADFIRST HOPING THEYD FEEL LIKE YOU
OR THAT I WOULD FALL IN LOVE WITH ALL THE WAYS THAT THEY DIDNT
BUT I REMEMBER YOUR EYES THAT NIGHT AND THAT MEMORY STILL CHASES ME

I SCRIBBLED OVER THE THOUGHT OF YOU UNTIL IT TASTED WRONG LIKE ITS SUPPOSED TO BECAUSE I WANTED TO LOVE MYSELF AND I WILL SAY WITH GREAT SINCERITY THAT I AM HAPPY NOW

but i remember
i was a fool
i wanted to beat you,
i wanted to be ahead but there’s a stigma and a consequence with every life ive lived.

I dreamed about you last night; and it didn't hurt. Not until I woke up and realized it was just a dream, that is.
It doesn't have to be romantic, you don't have to touch me like I'm silk, you can hold me with rough hands and look at me with tired eyes,
After being in the dark for two years,
Even the worst of you illuminates me,
Even the worst of you sets me free

when the clouds align perfectly
and just for a moment
the sun shines through—-
that’s when I see you. that’s when I feel you. that’s when the earth beneath me collapses and I am staring blindly into the sky
begging for answers
I will never get.

Fear is engraved into my bones, trembling at your touch is built into my system. But these days I don’t know why I’m shaking. These days I feel like I’m constantly holding together my paper machete heart with glue that doesn’t stick. With love that doesn’t feel right. I wake up tasting your blood more often than I fall asleep remembering the way you made me feel. I have never been so heartbroken I was afraid to look it in its eyes. I suppose I did this to myself. I was fourteen years old painting my blue eyed addiction to look like love. But love doesn’t look like that. Love doesn’t feel like that. And now I’m eighteen and I know that
I felt it when you touched me, and I am so scared to be touched again because I know it won’t feel the same.
They think it was the rough hands from six years ago that makes my bones ache but it is the memory of you in my room, stroking my hair and pretending like you loved me. It is you holding me on the night my life fell apart. It is me in your car holding your hand and wondering how bad it’d hurt when you let go. It is the mess you made of me, and the days I’m too afraid to ask myself what’s wrong. A heartbreak so painful it can bend your bones out of shape until the only thing left of your ectoskelton is a shadow of what you once were. When your screaming turns into an echo but you don’t remember the day you started biting your tongue . And you start to wonder when you stopped taking off your ring before you got in the shower. When you stopped saying I love you before hanging up the phone.

And when it all falls through the ceiling and all that’s left to do is sit in your broken home,
you’ll remember

you saw the walls crack weeks ago.

love that feels right
kind of hurts
because after everything
you’ve been through
you’re not really sure
if you deserve it

im sorry i tore you down on all those days you were just trying to build
yourself back up,
im sorry i blamed you for other people falling out of love with you,
im sorry i painted you to look like your own worst nightmare,
and blamed you for hiding from your reflection.
im sorry i ripped away your childhood
and calling it growing up,
im sorry that i taught you that you cannot take a break from being strong without being weak,
im sorry i sold your favorite memories for drug induced hazes,
and that the real world soaked into this cavern of a mind you've built for yourself,
im sorry i could not protect you but most of all
i am sorry that i did not take care of you
i hope one day when your scars heal you'll forgive me
and carry on knowing
that i forgive you

I loved you in full bloom,
Not knowing I was the weeds
In your garden.

the days are beginning to
bleed into each other
again

and i don't mean in the way
you clink a beer bottle
or raise a toast
or kiss someone
goodnight

i mean in the way that
feels like your bones
are sore from doing nothing
and your fingers are
screaming to touch more
than your peeling wall paper

i feel like i'm walking the
same road every day
and i never reach the end
but i know i'm walking
to my death

this might just
be where it
all comes crashing down
like rain that doesn't
sprinkle before it pours

all we can do
is sit on the ground
and let
the sadness
soak through

and that's the
real tragedy

Last night I woke up gripping your echo, and  drowned it out with *** and two Vicodin. I am so dramatic, when you left I felt like a child throwing a fit. Saying I was never going to eat again, feel again, love again. But there is a voice deep in the beyonds of my mind, that whispered over my screams, telling me that this feeling is all too familiar. The begging, the wishing, the sheer desperation.
I have felt everything. The anxiety attacks when you looked at me, the butterflies when you said I was okay, I was going to be okay— I’m going
To be okay.
And an emptiness creeping in with a bitter grin, that I welcome at the door.
What is different about the way you left is the way you said goodbye. Because you didn’t want to. You said you didn’t want to lose me, which I don’t think I’ve ever heard before. But we both know everything has to change now. I can’t be another sock puppet, lifeless and pretending to like that you only look at me with hungry eyes. You cannot break my bones and put me on strings. Leave my body for the vultures, and I promise when you visit the grave stone I will be blooming in the same spot you left me bleeding. Emerging from earth, rebirthed and radiant. Because I have gotten over this before.
And I have been okay before.
And I will be okay again.

it used to flow
like a river in july
so tempting
it made you quiver
i thought it would be like riding a bike
you can’t just forget
how to do it
muscle memory has to play its
part at
some point
but the familiarity of loving you left
me so long ago
and it took that passion with it

and i have felt loves far deeper
than the one you
drenched me in
i know now
the line of fantasy
and reality
but i still get my wires crossed

i’m the abandoned building on the side
of the road growing weeds that look
like flowers.
nobody knows it’s story
and nobody cares to ask
because it’s just a rest stop at most.
it’s a place to smoke.
a place to destroy when you are angry.
i am the bottom of a swimming pool
my biggest cameo
is an indie rock song
singing along to the lyrics that used
to consume you.
wondering if she still wonders.
hoping that she does.

i am the metaphor, all too literally.
a mirror.
a vessel.
a burnt orange sky.
i am the answer
in front of you
that you will never
really see
because
you never really tried.

It used to be so easy,
because when I was younger
I actually had something to say.
Now I am a half dead person living in our half dead world talking because there is nothing else to do to fill the silence I carry in my chest.
When I read my diaries they always talk about
the voices in my head—
and I’m almost envious.
I haven’t thought something tangible in days.
I wish I had a voice to talk to.
I miss going crazy.
It was something to ******* do.

the slow burn of august. the comfort of sleeves that are too long. the itch of winter, spreading too quickly. the clothes on my bedroom floor. the dishes in my sink. the look in my eyes i wonder if any one else can see.
it’s like a dream where
all your screams come out as whispers,
and nobody is standing close enough to hear.

or maybe
a nightmare where they hear you perfectly,
but pretend that they can’t.

i wonder
which is worse.

pathological manipulation in everyone I meet
who leave out the blueprints for calculated schemes
predisposed schizophrenia and incessant need to win
feels like fiberglass blood breaking through velvet skin
im scared all I inherited was my dads brain
and what my mom meant to pass on, was left in her grave
my boyfriend told me im selfish, I deserve the blame
but my ******* laugh only exposed my pain
i think the principle of sufficient reason is a form of psychosis
looking for signs from invisible beings so we don’t feel hopeless
but yeah, call it religion, it rolls of the tongue better
when I asked God what he thought, he never answered my letter

you’re red like the flags on your wall,
you’re red like the pajamas you wore last time you called,
you’re red like the notification i get on Snapchat,
you’re red just like i am when you don’t reply back,
and i am a deep blue, it leaks out in my words
my stagnant navy is so glaringly insecure,
there is an aura of dusk that i tuck into free space
in a desperate attempt to be your favorite shade
it’s sad, but it’s true, we’re just too far apart
i can’t make you blue if you’re red in your heart
but you make me wish I wasn’t blue, you make me want to try
I wish I could explain it. I wish I knew why.
you make me wish I was yellow, you make me feel like I could be;
you’ve brought out the golden hour inside me

the tarot readers say
the things I want to hear
they say you’re coming back to me
and that you have fear
you don’t think I’d take you back
and that’s why you don’t text
it has nothing to do with the fact
I’m not inside your head
No I believe the tarot readers
They know what they’re talking about
They tell me you miss me so bad
you can’t even say it out loud
And maybe it’s true you’d find that insane
But if you’re looking for me, I commented claim


I am at the end of your road
Waiting on you to come home
And if you really miss me
You’ll know where to go
And I am on my phone,
waiting for your text
If you really missed me
I’d be answering it instead.
So why do the tarot readers
say you’re coming back?
If you were on your way to me,
Wouldn’t I know that?
But they shuffle the deck and
I believe what they say
Because it’s easier to believe
That you’re just on your way

she doesn't know what she has,
what it's worth,
or how bad i want it.

but she will
when she loses it.

the people who love me watching me crash land,
trying to hold me down in a jet pack or a parachute,
In this dream I can never see the object they’re trying to use to save me,
But I always see the look on their face,
When they watch me hit the ground—

relief.

you wear and break me down,
like your favorite pair of shoes,
running through the mud,
in a race you’ll always lose,
as dusk falls and you're on the chase
I will be the one who always gets a taste,
and as your soft strides clap
against the ground,
It is always me that you are putting down,
one step farther-
it's suddenly so clear to me.
Your favorite shoes are not the ones
on your feet
They are the ones that are never worn, but somehow always showed off.
The ones in your closet, that never come out of the box.
They have never felt pavement or grass
They have never felt free
And in all the ways I’ve been yours,
I still wish that was me.
I wish I was the one caged up if that’s what it means to be loved.
Instead of the one slammed to the ground with every lunge.
While your real favorite shoes, wish to be me, worn to their soles, but feeling the breeze.
To be used is not to be loved; but to be loved is to be used
And how sad must I be to compare myself to shoes?

it started out with word games,
that should’ve been a sign,
you won every game of anagrams,
I didn’t know what was on the line,
I bet I could’ve won if I really tried,
but the red flags look pink when you’re colorblind
I said it and I meant it, I really will be fine
my attachment issues are no fault but mine

I wonder if she’d love
me more if she knew I was
a poet and I wrote sonnets
about the way her lips curve
like the bow used by Cupid himself
I wonder if she’d love me more
if I wrote haikus about the way
her body looks like a dream I had
where I felt like I was at home I wonder
if she’d love me more if I told her
she makes me feel what can only be described
as a dark sky opening up into sun
in a single instant and
warmth encompassing the earth
seconds before it froze over
An ode to her laugh and
every song she sings in the shower
A ballad for every time she was hurt
and I wasn’t there to hold her I’d
write about her for years and never
be able to capture her beauty
in any language
because something
tells me
it will always come down to the
same three words.

There is something so human about looking in the mirror
Poking and prodding at every detail trying to figure out how other people see you
There is something so human about crying yourself to sleep
And hating when you can’t sleep and can only cry
Or waking up early to the sunlight laying on top of you making a pattern of your bedroom floor,
The early morning glow makes you smile to yourself
And you never notice;

You never notice all of the little beautiful parts of being a person
That you may never get to experience again
The way that people look at you when you’re not looking
The moments of remembering who you used to be and realizing that it isn’t you anymore
Your favorite jeans ripping or not fitting and being so angry because you don’t think you’ll ever find another pair of jeans that fit that good
Realizing you haven’t associated him with that song in years,
Realizing you haven’t thought of him in years.
Wondering if your parents would be proud.
Being sad if they wouldn’t be.
That feeling makes you want to try harder- be better.
The human experience is so surreal and so slow and sticky and sad but it’s so bright and warm and beautiful like a summer sky or dew soaked grass in the early dawn
There is so much beauty and pain and love and hate that comes with being a person
There is so many feelings you don’t even realize
There is not just happy and sad and angry
There is the feeling of a Tuesday afternoon when you realize you have hope for the first time in years
The feeling of a clean kitchen after procrastinating dishes for weeks
The feeling of a scalding hot shower in the winter and a freezing cold shower in the summer
That park you dream about even though you only went once
The smells that bring back memories
Sunscreen and Victoria’s Secret perfume and there is just something about pine that brings it all back
You take advantage of this life you were gifted simply because you don’t remember asking for it,
But you did,
You begged to feel everything fully even if sometimes it hurts
You begged to see it all in 3D and experience it all inside of the vessel that is your body and here you are, with everything you ever wanted — and you are crying over jeans that don’t fit
And I am not mad at you for it
It’s part of the experience
But someone has to tell you
There are a million jeans that will fit better
A million smiles that’ll spark a fire
A million memories built up inside of you, that only you know,
And a million reasons why
The human experience
Is what we’re all chasing
And running from
And that is what we all share
That makes us so human.

I use up all the space in my head
wondering what’s going on in yours
and I spend my days on my knees
praying to the lord
and I may not have believed in God
before I met you
But I keep hoping if I beg enough
he’ll have to let me through
I don’t know anyone else who
could change your mind
So I hope God will call on you to
give this another try
And I imagine how insane you’d find me
If you knew the things inside my brain
So I spend my time hoping maybe you’d do the same
If I imagine your name enough it’ll just have to manifest
So I never let my phone die just in case you text
It hurts too much to believe that you weren’t who you said
So just say anything and we can do it all again

And they say God doesn’t talk back but he used to send me signs
And this week he’s being quiet so I’m starting to lose my mind
Because if God is saying it’s over and I still don’t believe it-
Will I ever stop living at your convenience?
If all the space in my mind is reserved for you
Will the pieces left of me disappear too?
And how is that you don’t care at all?
When I’ve become religious just hoping that you’ll call.
Am I really as stupid as I thought?
I guess if I was smart
I’d know how to move on
I guess if I was smart
I’d know how to forget
instead of sitting around
wanting to do it again.
But if we tried one more time
I wonder if I’d notice?
The exact moment where
I started to blow it
I wonder if I could pinpoint
The last message you sent
Where you truly liked me
And it wasn’t in my head.
I wonder if I could save this
Or make you want to fight
And even if I couldn’t
I’d still be willing to pay the price.

But maybe I’m not smart
Maybe I’m not slick
But I promise if you text me
I’ll ******* act like it.

some nights are easy, i see all of the signs
that show me what I don’t have, I am sure to find
but some nights are melancholic
hyper focused on relations forged to be platonic,
and it’s ironic.
im ironic.
you sold me the story and I bought it.
I thought I fought this.
but when the signs lead back to you,
what am I supposed to do?
and now I worry my messages won’t even come through.
yeah it’s ironic,
i can’t stop it.
no matter how hard I try to block it.
it follows me from guy to guy, the demons i run from i always find,
but im fine,
it’s fine.
really I don’t even mind.
we can just talk from time to time.
you can think im crazy because
i can’t communicate right.
but I try.
i swear i try.
a symbiotic semi ****** far too nonchalant nightmare on my phone,
dripped in silver linings i pickaxe out of stone to subdue the fear of being alone.
and you know.
don’t you know?
and you give me nothing but just enough so I don’t go
but every word you say is thickly coated in your ego

it’s a game im always losing,
and a choice that you’re not choosing,
the same flower that was blooming
is now rotten petals from my assuming

its ironic.
i swore it was platonic.
but this ache is catatonic
the way i crave you is chronic
how can the two be synchronic?
i carry love like it’s astronomic
i never said it, but i thought it
maybe im the one who’s toxic

i count on you to disappear,
you never let me down.
i wish you’d just tell me,
you’ll always come back around.
how sad does that sound?
the hidden meanings ive found?
you painted me red and wondered why i looked like a clown.
i just laugh. im the joke.
i don’t get it so i smoke.
you are like a door stopper that’s always in my way.
i can never slam the door closed so i have to sit with my rage.
and my nostalgia is milk that’s soured with age.
a nightmare i masochistically recreate,
and then complain that I can’t escape
so I find new malignancy that I can blame.
to match a new frequency I can alternate,
a virus that consumes all of my drive space,
baby blue flowers in an empty landscape

I said you can’t hurt me,
but you knew I couldn’t
stop it.
i found the vulture,
inside of the ostrich.
and you found the victim
inside of the goddess.
i can’t help
but find that ironic.

why does time freeze
at the age of seventeen
and instead of resuming
you just wake up at 23
wondering how six years
passed in one night
and when you gave up
on all your big dreams
the way adults do it’s just
what we do
we give up and we complain
and we’re so good at dancing
with disdain but at
17 I had some soul left
and something to give
I wonder where it went and if
simply being alive is
all it takes to live?