Recently I have not been eating
I like how it feels
Wasting away
I want to become so frail that I sway in the wind
And disappear like the little burs from dandelions
Yesterday the cold infected my bones
and numbed my fingers
The icesicles in the air scraped my lungs,
But I liked it
Am I a ******* or am I
Mentally ill?
My suicide note is starting to resemble
The coffee I obsessively drink,
And the ink on my skin fading along with my chances
With him
The only way you're ever going to make a difference is if
Your name is in a textbook and children
Are popping bubbles and sticking the gum
In the pages
Is there a part of me that wants to hold onto life?
Why else would I write down my intentions?
If I was completely set on ending things
I would not need to write them down
They would fester in my mind comfortably
But these thoughts seem to fit very awkwardly
Inside my head
Then again,
What's the point in waiting?

I believe I said I was done with you,
So tell me why the hell is your voice still so familiar.
All my attempts to rid myself of you.
Rotting, with all the things I've hand labeled as self inflicted problems.

I see parts of you in people I meet.
Your physical appearance and similar tone in voice.
Exchanging words with those people make me want to shove shards of glass down my throat.
But I don't.
I smile.
Tell them, "you remind me of someone I used to know".
But I don't remember you anymore.

"Bitter liar."
Indeed I am.
The lonely socialist.
Because now I'm playing your game.
These aren't the same rules though.
And we're not playing fair.
You're cheating the system,
And you've got someone holding your hand.

But I'll shove your existence into the darkest parts of my heart,
Because I've made a special place for things I never want to come across.

And you still call.
You ask me how I'm doing,
But quite frankly, I could do without you interrupting at all.
I want to tell you to stop laughing,
Stop calling me about things that aren't relevant anymore.
But you'll invite yourself right back into my life.
Leaving a nostalgic taste of "calls beyond midnight"

Ideally, this distance would be sufficient enough to never hear your rhythmic speaking.
But realistically, I can hear the grinding of your teeth as you struggle not to repeat things.
Test my patience.
Regurgitate all the words that make me cringe.
Leave me livid and still longing,
Because I want nothing more than to never think of you again.