Christmas used to be my favourite holiday. And you knew that.
But on the day we were supposed to celebrate, the 23rd, you crashed your car. You crashed your car after spending the night at a girls house.
And did you call me and ask to be saved?
No.
You called her.
And you kissed her.
And you wouldn't have even told me it happened. You would have lied.
And then we celebrated. On the 26th. And I found out, but not from you.
And you said you were sick of my constant crying. But how did you expect me to act?
But when I think back and remember Christmas, I think the worst part was
That your mother had crossed out "from" on all my presents
And instead had written "love."

You can ask me as many times as you want
Why I did it
But my answer will always be
"I don't know."
And maybe it was simply because
I was falling apart
And he was there
While you weren't.

Scars on my heart
Scars on my hips
I think I'll die
With your name on my lips.

I keep having this dream over and over again where I am drowning. I'm at the surface, paddling at the choppy waves, screaming, water crashing against me. And you are standing on the dock, holding a rope, and you look out at me like you're about to throw it to me and save me but you turn away and throw it to her instead I keep having this dream.

You care about everyone and
you care about their problems
you always have

but now you don't care that
I've got glass in my heart
or that God wants me
dead

and what do you do when
the person who takes care
of everyone won't
take care of you?

I remember letting you read my books once and I think that's when I really let you in, when I told myself I was ready to once again trust someone to understand every explicit side of myself. Now you've made a nest inside, burrowed into the deepest corners, and I can't get you out and I can't let anyone in and I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to trust you with my words again.

But when the zombies come pounding
On the door of my dorm
All I can think is
Who will come save me from the apocalypse now?

I'll carve your name
In to my skin
In hopes that you'll say mine
Again.

I've stopped wearing seat belts
And looking both ways before I cross
Because when I hear the screech of tires
And feel my car slip and fishtail
It makes me feel something
When all I feel now is nothing.

He says
"I love you but I'm not in love with you."
Who knew that
a small, two-letter word
could change so much.

If people really are made of stardust,
I think, perhaps,
You and I are made of the same star.

For no one has ever seen me the way you have,
And no one has ever made me feel so whole.

But what are we to do,
When our star grows too old
and becomes a black hole?

This will be the first time in a long time not ringing in the New Year with you. And what is a celebration if I don't turn to see you beside me? What does any of this past year matter if you won't be there in the future? I want to drive to your house and throw all your things onto your lawn, scream at you for what you've done. I want to drive to your house and kidnap you, take you away from all the dark things there. I want to drive to your house and profess my devotion and love and admiration and hear you once again, finally, say those three words back.
There are so many things which I desperately want.
But today is New Year's Eve.
And it will be the first New Year I haven't rung in with you in a long time.

I could love you for a thousand years,
If only you would let me.

I
never
thought
forever
would
be
this
short

The things they say to make me feel better are so very nice
but
I'm not so sure they understand
I've got no pieces left to put back together.
He has them all and they can't just be given back,
He has to come with them and
he won't and
what do pieces matter
if the glue that holds them together is gone?