It's been four years, yet it feels
like it was only yesterday
that I heard your giggle erupt
from behind me while we ran.

We were running from everything,
there was no one to chase us
except our pasts and our futures.

We were running from old age
and sickness and responsibility.
We were running from rules
and friendships and love.

But we didn't know that the
further you get from one thing,
the closer you get to something else.

We were running from joy and
youth and didn't know we were
headed straight for fear and grief.

That day you ran away from me,
our paths never crossed again
and they never will.

That day you ran towards peace
and forgiveness and acceptance,
and I ran straight for sorrow
and a life filled with heartache.

I don't run anymore.

Sorrow flows in her veins,
anger runs in her family.
She yearns to cut off every relative
and cut out every capillary,
to forget every moment
she was surrounded by the
hatred that seeped into her skin
and settled within her bones.
She's sick, she claims, infected
with an invisible disease capable
of killing her from the inside
out.

She wrote a note to him
outlining the way he
made her heart beat,
and why, because of
this, she couldn't stay.

She wrote a note to him,
slowly and methodically,
carefully planning
every syllable and
letter that graced
the page to him.

She wrote a note to him,
and realized how
much she cared for
him, and knew she
had to let go before
it was too late.

She wrote a note to him
and when she got
to the end of the letter,
she artfully signed it,
*insincerely yours.

She
identifies
with the
fine china
that will
stay on
the same
shelf
until
it cracks
with
age.

Your sorrow cries out
and breaks every bone
I have left in my body.

There's not much left
after you cracked my ribs
when you said goodbye,
And after you tore my
skin apart when you
said it was all a lie

But I will pick up the remains
of my broken skeleton
and bury the pieces six feet under
the swing you claimed was special,
when you told me you loved me.

Maybe when you bring your next
girl to the same place, you'll hear
my voice invading your every thought
and haunting every inch of your body.

I hope you do,
and I hope it kills you too.

Fall in love with the comfortable
silences shared in the car ride home

Fall in love with the hint of a smile
on her face when she recognizes a song

Fall in love with the way the hair on the
right side of her face is always out of place
because she's forever twirling it around her finger

Fall in love with the way she talks about the
birds outside, as if they are the most enchanting
things on earth (besides you of course)

Fall in love with how she is constantly
writing, and you know it's about you

Fall in love with the way she has a playlist
for falling asleep, yet it always finishes
before she's even closed her eyes

Fall in love with the way
she falls asleep

Fall in love with a writer
and you will discover new
things about yourself to love