In between. That’s what I’ve always been.
In between jobs, in between destinations. In between breaths, heartbreaks — myself and what I want.
Never quite there yet, never too far gone.
Just in between.

That’s the problem with people.
They don’t realize that they exist outside of their own little worlds.
When you broke my heart, did you realize the sound of your voice was already embedded into my memory?
When you kissed her right in front of me, did you know a whole universe collapsed inside of me?

Did you care?

Get to where you need to be,
before what you need to be
catches up to where you are.

I don't know how much it meant to you.
When we touched and kissed and told secrets.
But it's all that I can think of.

I asked you how I should cut my hair,
and you didn't answer for a long time.
I wondered if you were with her again.

I don't know how much I mean to you,
or why you suggested a cut that looked just like hers.
*But you are all I can think of.

Twenty-four missed calls.
I should have picked up the phone.
I could have saved you.

Winter is quiet, but always restless.
Irrevocably cold, and deceitfully burning.
Harsh at times, throwing storms of ice when tempered.
Apologetic, as it stews in silent shame.
Unforgiven, and tolerated.
A season which destroys beauty in order to create a kind of it's own.
Decorated, as if the beauty it created for itself hadn't been enough.

I never liked Winter very much,
but I've come to realize we've got a lot in common.

Last year was different.
We caught snowflakes on tongues that weren't bitter,
and we braved the cold with warm hearts.

Twelve months can change a million things.

It's taken me long enough,
But I know now that winter will always come back,
Even though I can't say the same of you.

The winter is brisk, but not half as cold as you've become.
How can you say you loved me once?
When I look into those eyes that once seemed so warm,
I only see shadows where your soul used to be.

The winter is brisk, and you're a shell of yourself.
When did you change?
It must have been all the words the doctor used to describe you.
Crazy, depressed, nervosa-syndrome-disorder
There's bandaids where I used to see your beauty.

The winter is brisk, and you're in my head but I'm not in yours.
Why didn't you come back?
The therapist convinced you our love was poison.
But it was the only thing keeping you human.

I can't shake you back to life this time.
Snowglobe darling,
I'll watch your snowflakes fall,
and listen to what's left of your sweet melody.

I think I built myself off of what people could write about me
if I lived my life a certain way.

Maybe I read too many sad books,
but I have one hell of a story.

This is love?
Is that what this is to you?
A quickie, a "gotta run",
and you swear that you're true?

Don't offer me your hand,
to only draw it away.
You can't string me along
to keep your heartache at bay.

This is love?
I don't want any part in this ****.
You broke my ****** heart,
and now you're gonna pay for it.

Your hands were intertwined in mine.
Those days, your hair was messy, and as hard as I tried to comb through it, you managed to mess it up every time.
Those days, your skin was warm like the summer air, and with each night you wrapped me in your arms, I didn't know I was struggling to break free.
Those days are long since gone.

Your hands were letting go.
Those days, our lives were messier than your hair ever was, and we tried to clean up our acts to no avail.
Those days, your skin grew cold and took the texture of a snakes. With each night you wrapped her in your arms, even you knew it should have been me.
Those days are long since gone.

Your hands are lost in your messy hair now, your hands hold none but your own.
They don't reach for me anymore, there's no sign of the hands mine used to know.

You told me you loved me.

You told me once,
Twice,
A thousand times.

You told me softly,
With sweaty hands,
And eager lips.
You told me loudly,
For the world to hear.

You told me truthfully,
With tears down your cheeks,
And sadness in your eyes.
You told me to comfort me,
When there was sadness in mine.

You told me fervently,
With madness in your step.

Perfectly,
In the snow, with winter on your breath.

You told me until your lips grew chapped,
And your throat was raw.
You told me as many times as you could,
In every opportunity you saw.





You told me you were leaving.

You told me once,
Twice,
A thousand times.

You told me softly,
With your body shaking,
And your lips trembling.
You told me loudly,
Unforgivingly,
And doubtful.

You told me truthfully,
With tears pooling in your eyes,
When your hands just couldn't find mine.
You told me to comfort me,
That you'd come back in time.

You told me carefully,
With tenderness.

Imperfectly,
With dying love in your caress.

You told me until you couldn't breathe,
Until I started screaming.
You can't leave me, you can't leave me.
But you left me anyway, in the snow and bleeding.



Your words were made to break me.