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 Jul 2015 Andy KittySmasher
I see my old house and my old
Elementary school everyday
On my way to work.

I've considered finding a different

But maybe I like the
Memories I associate with pain
I associate with that home

Maybe I like the flashbacks
Of a boys Body Oder
Suffocating my nose
And the way my moms perfume filled the air when she
Finally came home

And the relief in my stomach
Because he would stop
And I could breathe again

I would outline
The time in between the hours
When he couldn't touch me
Because it felt like conrtol
But sometimes
When a man touches me waist
I feel sweat dripping from eyes
But when I go to wipe
It away
It isn't there
Text her. Send her messages that she won't know how to respond to. she'll read them and put her phone down. Stare at the read receipt for hours until you realize she's not picking the phone back up, she doesn't have anything to say to you.

Eat lots of chocolate. It has serotonin in it, the happy chemical. When you cuddle with her, your brain releases oxytocin. As long as you eat enough chocolate (and throw it up) you won't miss the oxytocin one bit.

Bleed. When she tells you that she cuts herself, cut deeper. This is guerrilla warfare now, and for every shot fired you must fire back.

Read your messages. Laugh at the nicknames she used. "Princess". "Baby". "Darlin". You were never her princess, never her baby. She was the child and you were merely her plaything.

Make art. Write dumb poetry about falling in and out of love, take photographs of your ****** thighs, paint a picture using only shades of red. Let her figure out what all these things mean.

Drink. Green tea, *****, over-priced lattes. Stay up all night crying. Wear stilettos. Sit in art museums all alone and wonder if being a starving artist is as much fun as it sounds. Take long showers and harmonize with your favorite songs through your tears. Use heavier, blacker eyeliner. Spend time on yourself. Adopt a cat. But most of all, remember this:

You can only love one person. Choose yourself
 Aug 2014 Andy KittySmasher
Yellow is the look on your face when I tell you I love you, and the color of the sunshine that lives in your soul. It's the favorite color of the young boy who lives across the street from me who brings me a dandelion every time I leave for work. Yellow is the color that smiles back at you on a bad day and that laughs with you on a good one. Yellow is the sun, fierce and bright, like you.
The third of my color series.
 Aug 2014 Andy KittySmasher
You told me your favorite color was orange at least three times, you loved everything about it. I never really liked it much, the fruit or the shade it was, it used to give me headaches. You said you loved the way it was part of the sunset, right before the sun hits the horizon and the colors start to blur, you loved the way it was everything all at once, and in my mind I thought, "just like you." I'd get married in an orange dress if I could spend the rest of my life with you, and I know it gives me headaches when I stare at it too long but you're like the orange sunset and I'd stare at you forever if you'd let me.
Part of my color series.  Not my favorite.
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I want to be a writer.
Not because I'm mightier
than you,
but because it's all
I know how to do.
The way that I let you shatter my chest
like a piece of glass.
or the way I would let you
do it all over again.
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