I don't agree or like how it isn't normal or common or nice to say that I don't know if I'm supposed to be with you.
you make me feel so empty sometimes. like when I think of you saying her name or telling me those stories that send my heart to the bottom of my torso
how am I supposed to know if this is how it's supposed to be? sure, baby, you make me so happy. you make me ache with want. is that how it's supposed to be?
you know and I've said
love has never been worth it for me
and God it's never made sense
this doesn't make sense.
you make me feel like I'm running on empty, babe
you make me feel drained and sorry and restless and forever seventeen
you make me jealous and angry and you make me feel just as notgoodenough as the rest of em, love
why can't I just say this to you? it's not like it isn't any of your business. this could be a feeling that keeps my ring off your finger.

baby
baby
I wanna make your stomach flip
but I have never been deserved by anyone
I have always been too good
too kind
too much too soon
too ready to be loved
the way
I always should have been





I wish you would have been the first

wait
wait
i can't keep trying to skate
right over the ice of a heart never healed
scars poorly sealed
this sickness is unreal
and
the pain i feel?
surreal
slow down
slow down
as i drag you along at the speed of sound
i'll pick you up and pretend it was you
whose body smashed into the ground
but, please, take me around
show me your town
do you know what's happening right now?
of course i don't, i won't
i still am what i swear i am not
i will still love you when my body rots
a line on my leg is a tear on your face
when i am myself, i can't hurt you that way
it's still flying past me
a million miles
a millisecond
burning
aching
yearning
waiting

Quietly accepting.
We could let this drift away,
but I don't think you would.
Your poker face has even you fooled, love.
But over and over I'll put my cards on the table and I'll try not to stand up on my chair to tell you all about my heart and the things I know.

I was sure you were gone and sure you were the one.

i start by telling her i am convinced there are almost no moments that matter,
like really profoundly matter,
and i am subliminally convinced of this, especially when i am alone.
but then i swear to her, there i was all alone in a basement staring a small, blurry two dimensional copy of you,
and when i look at your smile in the photo, mine grows bigger
and i let out this soft, unintentional laugh,
at the exact moment i feel tears rolling down my face, and my body seems to know before my heart does, and my heart knows before my mind does.  
and i knew then.
i knew then that i was wrong, that i was not stuck in a series of inutile moments that in grand design, meant nothing at all. if all the other moments i thought a waste led me here, i valued them.
this moment was a brick wall and a cleansing rain. it was the absolute moment i knew i would spend my life happily earning your trust, your time, your heart.
i tell her this with relief on my breath because the hurricane in my head named after you has settled, and i am more than ready to start building back up.

What if I don't make it to where I'm supposed to be before I have a chance to change it all?

broken again.
it comes and goes, right?
or what do you call the spaces between
where i've mastered how to human
throughout the day,
the times when I can say hello and goodbye
and laugh at unfunny jokes
and do what's expected
and take my medicine,
would i call it unbroken so long as i am not sobbing in a ball on the floor?
it hits when it hits.
and sometimes it's one thing at a time.
sometimes i am struck with the notion
that his heart breaks in his chest every day and that it is my fault
and sometimes i only recall the times he was kicking me in the stomach
and then it's both
or maybe it's the life we lost or all three
or a completely different loss of a different person or a different fallout
or a different pain that i caused
a different wound i am responsible for
or a different time when my heart was ripped from my chest
occasionally i get slammed with memories from a time when i should have been protected, sometimes i remember things that can't possibly be in my range of memory

sometimes it's more and sometimes it's less, sometimes it's a combination, sometimes it is none of the above. it is never gradual. it hits, it hurts. like concrete and broken glass. i can't control it, but i am broken again.