it’s so frustrating because i know you wanted to be with me, on those days you drove almost an hour each way to see me and you kissed me so often and held me so tight and always pulled me closer and i could feel your eyes on me when i wasn’t looking, and we spent day after day like this, just being together and pretending that time could stand still, but at the same time, i feel like it was all just something for you to do while you were home, even though you deny it. i remember starting to tear up one afternoon with my head on your chest while you slept, because i knew it was just a matter of time till this was just a memory. i can’t picture you actually missing me, i can’t imagine you actually wishing i hadn’t said i was done with grey and in between. i feel like i’m so insignificant to you. like you have no feelings, like you couldn’t care less, this is just life, people come and go. and i know that, i know this is just life, and that people come and go, but it hurts that it’d never cross your mind to ask me to stay, that i was fun while i lasted, that you never wanted to make me yours. i’ll fade soon. i want to matter more to you. you’re a thinker, i’m a feeler, you hate that i’m so black and white. but i’m selfish and i want 3am texts that you can’t stop thinking about me and that you need to see me again soon. but that’s not who you are. and it’s unfair of me to want you to feel that way when you don’t. and it’s really okay, because if i extended my hand to you and you took it, i don’t think we would’ve gotten very far anyway. i loved being so close to you, but i’m excited to hold someone’s hand who doesn’t want to let go, to kiss someone who wants to kiss me forever, to not be anticipating an inevitable end, to be able to trust someone fully with my heart, to have someone that wants to hold it. and i don’t need that, i don’t need someone, i don’t need anyone. but if one day it’s what’s meant to be, i’ll let it be. i don’t want to be careless with my heart again. i don’t know why things happen the way they do, and i don’t regret you for a second, and i still think the world of you, but i’m too emotional and i fall too deep to give that much of myself again to someone who never asked for any of it in the first place.

I keep thinking about his bones. How I will never see them.

Sometimes it feels like he is holding me between his fingers, watching me sift through the spaces.

one time he rolled my naked flesh onto the floor and refused to clean it with the ***** sheets.


How naive to base my well being off of someone else’s existence-



(BREAK YOUR MIRRORS. Your stomach cannot handle the person he has made you become. Break your blood vessels open- the ones in your lungs. Scream about the glass-covered floor- You created this mess by trying to look at something that wasn’t real.)

He wants me to break my body like the holy wafers on Sunday when I was a child, when I still believed in things that weren’t real.

My body is his, but only when broken and scattered with prayer.

I have to strip myself clean, collect the mud that clings to my teeth in harsh clumps.
bite my tongue to resist the temptation of running it across my jaw.

There will be dust on my eyelashes but I should leave it.
(Someone Else will always brush it off.)

and this next part is very important because my Whole Life-
MY WHOLE LIFE- people have been tying rags to my Sharp Parts,
trying to Save me.

I am round, my floral underwear straining against a torso that isn’t used to the beers he never buys me.

he’s been ******* other girls

he knows that I am young; eager for it-
for the something that doesn’t exist in him.

He can see me blink, feel my aching when I wake up.

He will let me do it again.

(He’s sorry. He met someone better. Someone with taste, someone who pronounces words correctly, doesn’t laugh too loud. He’s sorry.
He never wanted to mean this much to you. He never wrote about you.
He closed his eyes when you danced. Shook his head. No. You should forgive him. He’s a ******* metaphor. He’s sorry.)

and I'm sorry.

sorry that I am
starting to make things up, starting to remember things differently.

No one else has ever felt this,
And at the same time, I know everyone has.
I'm so far away from home and it's lonely.
But tonight as we drove home,
You fell asleep on me and I couldn't help but
Think of how much I love your hands.
Is that weird?
Your hands are so familiar,
They have a piece of home in them,
And when I hold them.
The loneliness goes away.