My fingertips were paper cuts,
when I told you I didn't love you;
you snatched your hand away.

My voice cracked like broken glass,
when I told you I was sorry;
you turned your head away.

The windshield of your car was cracked,
and inside we were shattered.
You said I'd never see you cry;
you lied.

My hands were shaking cold
when you took off the watch i gave you.
You said you didn't want it,
and then I checked the time.

It was 9:53 on a Tuesday.
It was supposed to snow,
but it didn't.

I couldn't change the atmosphere,
or lighten your heavy heart,
despite how much I wished I could.

You turned the engine off,
and I knew that it was over.
My heart was in my stomach,
and it was all my fault.

I took off the necklace,
you gave me for my birthday.
You didn't want it back;
I left it in the cupholder.

I didn't want to leave you,
but I knew I had to.
My words were sharp like razors,
and I couldn't take them back.

I'm sorry.
For tearing at your heart.
I hurt myself too,
I don't deserve your love.

You shook your head in silence,
before you left your car.
I wished I could curl up,
in the passenger seat and wait.

Wait until the morning,
when you drank your coffee,
and pressed your shirt,
and went to your car to leave for work.

I was tired, and you tapped the window.
I wasn't surprised but I hoped it wouldn't happen.

I took my things and left your car,
the warm passenger seat.
It wasn't mine anymore,
it never really was.

I said goodbye;
you pretended not to hear.
You waved, even though
I wanted a hug.

We said goodbye,
and I knew it was over.
I said goodbye to your arms,
your voice over the phone.
I lost your favorite movies,
and the way you did your hair.

The color of your eyes would
become just a memory,
and the curves of your lips,
would fade just like my perfume.

If I said I wouldn't miss you,
that would be a lie.
I missed you almost instantly,
as soon as I said goodbye.

I swallowed my pride,
and pushed aside my regret.
I needed to walk myself home.

I looked back to your house,
but you weren't on the porch.
I remembered sitting there,
just talking on the steps.
It'd be passed 1am,
but we wouldn't notice that.

You'd say goodbye,
then let me leave,
but you'd always call my name.

I know it'll never be the same.

Every step I took,
I felt you fade away.
I couldn't do anything,
to make you stay.
It was all my fault.

I'm sorry.
I didn't want to say goodbye.

I lost the reigns I thought I had,
and lost my thoughts in memories.
I've been thinking in past tense,
and I don't think I'm walking forward.

I don't embrace the change with acceptance,
and I don't welcome it with uncertainty.
The ivy on my fingertips is a sure fire sign that
I am wilting by the hour.

I think leeches might have eaten,
what I thought was my heart,
and the mayflies might have collected,
what I thought was my mind.

As I lay and desinigrate,
I become meshed into the wood around me.
I lost the reigns I had, like,
I am not meant for the reality I claimed.

The soft chill of the air at night,
and the spiders on my spine: my fright.
The air seems brisk yet it doesn't touch me,
but I can tell from the way it floats above me.

The reigns, they still left me,
alone in the dark.
Because I couldn't find them,
I couldn't re-spark.

So I am lost like a legend,
a small useless clock.
I am without reason,
my will has been stopped.

Cradled in the darkness,
but a name without a face.
Something soft, and silver,
with no need to be replaced.

I felt it, like a warmness,
or a chilling of the spine.
That something soft and silver,
might settle in, and be mine.

Then eyes just like a jungle,
that I couldnt find myself in,
buried my heart like a capsule,
a pretty, ultimate, sin.

A perfect small exchange,
between the most glistening of eyes,
or the small twitches of a smiling smirk,
that glitches out the lies.

Translated like a message,
no need to say nor write.
A feeling of belonging,
a feeling that it might.

I felt it in a sudden, and,
in smaller bursts since then.
Of love that seemed irreplaceable,
that I couldn't even sense.

So I caught it like a petal,
or saw it like a star.
This perfect little feeling,
i always feel where
you are.

I am not what I wanted to be.
I am not water, or wind, or free.
I cannot even pretend that I am,
because I am far too distanced from myself.

I did not become who I want to be.
I leave sticky notes upon every square inch
of my home to remind me of things that
probably aren't very important.

I am not free, or floating,
or empty of worries or darkness.
Perhaps I've lost each sense of direction,
and suddenly sold myself to a manual.

Suddenly, your favorite color isn't very
lovely anymore, and the clock you carry
in your pocket isn't correct anymore.

Because you first ignored your woes,
because 'an apple a day keeps the doctor away.'
But soon enough those woes consume you,
and you cannot ease them away anymore.

Your favorite place becomes infested,
and soon the air is too impure
because of some fallacy you created
that told you that it was.

Soon you cannot check the time anymore
because no matter which way the hands point,
that is not the time operating inside you, and,
the past, and the future eat you alive so much
that you cannot focus on the present.

The past weighs heavy on your shoulders,
and pushes you lower and lower, but,
the future inflates in your stomach and,
puffs you bigger and bigger.

Somehow I might pop like a stuffed up balloon
because even rubber or plastic cannot resist
such pressure.

I've begun to fear the water,
and the ground I've learned to stand on.
The shapeless forms that I can't hold,
are beginning to pull me down.

I could sink, nonetheless,
or trip on my way.
The clouds have rolled in,
and I fear they might stay.

My boat has lost it's dock,
and my feet have lost their place.
My mind has lost it's reason, and,
my enemy has no face.

The lightning even scares my shadow
back into it's hiding place, while the thunder
makes me shield my eyes.

I'm not much for storms;
I'm not much for anything.
I've found that every day
I quake, and my legs buckle
beneath me.

I'm afraid I can't take it,
and I'm up against a wall.
I don't want it to consume me;
I don't want to fall.

Because,
I can't walk on water,
or find a place for my feet.
I can barely face the day,
without falling on my face.

A hand to hold won't guide me,
and a comfort won't calm me.
Sleep just makes me more drowsy,
and being awake only intensifies
my fear.

I lost myself in the stories in the newspapers,
and the coffee he poured me because he thought
I needed something,
but I did not order a thing.

I lost myself in the fuschia flower in her hair,
over her left ear, but,
my left ear didnt have a flower, and,
come to think of it, it probably never would.

I drank my coffee, black, because I didn't know any better,
and watched the lovers fight over buttered crossiants and
cinammon lattes with whipped cream and chocolate syrup.

My knuckles felt like typewriters, but,
for once in my life I wasn't writing.
I was hardly thinking,
I was hardly speaking even.

I lost myself in the low music and guitar
coming from inside the cafe
because, unlike me, it was beautiful
and soft, and lovely.

He poured me more coffee even though
I didnt want it, and,
gave me a crossiant, "on the house."

Who would think to give,
an observer something lovely?
But I had accepted it because
mother always said
"be kind."

I lost myself in silver eyes,
or, were they golden?
I hardly remember but I lost
myself in them.
And I didn't know why.

I fell in love at a coffee shop
where, I counted change,
like quarters and dimes and
anything to give him something
worth keeping.

I fell in at a coffee shop because
life was beautiful and people didn't
know me here at all so,
they couldn't follow me home.