i wouldn't take back the first time
my heart was broken. nor do i regret the mascara stains on my pillows and the
empty bottles hidden in my closet.
it lead me here.. you.. us.. this
and maybe you'll break my heart
as easy as you do glass bottles, but maybe i don't care. because, for the first time ever, you're the hello i never want to hear a goodbye from.

im sorry
im sorry
im sorry
                i know being with me is more
                         trouble than loneliness is

but did we ever have anything in common?
because now that's it over, we just look at each other like strangers, as if for months we didn't spend every early hour, and late night, together.
the few times i run awkwardly into you, we look to the ground in hopes of it saving us from having to say "hey" to each other. (am i that awful?)
i'm starting to think now that maybe we weren't so much alike, and maybe we weren't even nothing more than something made up in my mind.
something that i only dreamed of being.

I told you I wrote about you
yet you didn't ask to read
you didn't even seem interested
to know if I said your lips tasted like honey
or regret

and that's the beauty of this all

because to you my words are nothing
more than just words
therefore I'm not required to care either

everything always comes back to me in a wave of overwhelming remeberance
and it's at this time that i try to dissect my life and what the **** my purpose is

then it just stopped. the movement, the loudness of her world, silenced. her finger tips quit brushing my skin and her breaths became softer each time. longer than the one before. she grew still. and while i laid there, chest pressed against hers, i realized i had found the one thing ive searched for all my life; home.

when i hear your delicate words,
and read the ones you've
also constructed on paper,
i want to smash them to bits,
because i know then i will find
the truth inside the broken pieces

i can't hold you responsible
for kissing my soul when our lips touched, nor for my fall that followed.
i was the one who let you in, even under the circumstances we were in.

but one day i hope you see flowers, look up at the stars, and are reminded of me. i hope you continue to write on pieces of paper you find, and never doubt yourself. i hope one day you are inspired to write about our first hello and last goodbye. write about the marks we faintly left upon each other with every touch, sinning in the most beautiful way. write how at one time you fell too, and did not try to stand up. **write how you tried to love me, how i wanted to love you, but we never could.

how do you love me? when tears stream down my face as i tell you "i just want to ******* be done." how do you love me? when it's been almost three years and still i'm not sure of myself. how do you love me when love is somewhere out there looking for *you.

im sorry to my mom that has to deal with the burden of having not just one gay daughter, but two. for being the daughter she hoped to be able to walk down the aisle to her husband. but to the world i am tired. tired of trying to prove that my ****** orientation has no definetion of me as a person. im sorry to my dad that sometimes doesn't know how to ask me how things are in my life. because having a gay daughter is a touchy situation. but to the church i am tired. tired of defending myself as a human, and if i go to hell for being myself, so be it. to myself, i am not sorry. i am not sorry for not limiting myself when it comes to falling in love. because to my heart, this feels right. my ****** orientation is not a reflection of my parents raising or due to having a bad childhood. what a scary thing to admit that i like girls. what a ****** thing. im not sorry, this is who i am.

i get these moments of boldness, telling myself i wont let anyone else control my happiness anymore, but then i think of you and how you never showed up that night. i think of you and how you told me all i do is make you miserable, but somehow you couldn't stop having *** with me. i think of you and how you never complimented me when i changed my hair, or noticed when i wore my makeup differently. i think of you and how easy it always was for you to let me go. i get these moments of boldness, telling myself i wont let anyone else control my happiness, but then i think of you.

my mother keeps telling me
i need to go to bed earlier,
i need to get more sleep,
i have bags under my eyes,
but she doesn't understand that
im not tired, im just in love.

summer is meant for loving and leaving
but you'll always be home for me

you were my first love. my first real love. and i knew that, ive always known that, since the day i laid eyes on you. yours were big, brown, like mine, you were bold and fearless, a heart big enough for two, for us, you were all the things i lacked, and this is what made you the missing piece to my puzzle. a small piece, yeah, but you completed the puzzle, and that was always enough for me. it was you who came along and saved me, it was you who saw me, really saw me, and chose to still stick around. for that i love you, although i chose already to love you forever. seeing you now feels like... space..? i know that may not make sense, but i know that when i think of how i feel that's what comes to mind. i miss you, i genuinely miss you. every day i think of you. i promise ill always love you.

nothing makes me feel as good
as you cuddled in my neck
being lazy on a wednesday afternoon

id like to believe
that when i come home
ill be coming home to you

i didnt sleep in today, but still, in everything i did it was inevitable to think about you. i looked in the mirror and saw all the times you wrapped around me from behind, telling me you've never seen anyone like me. i put on my makeup and thought of all the times you asked why i wear it, always finishing with, "you dont need it anyways." i put on a tshirt, my socks, simple things with no significance, and still, i thought of you.

there comes a point in time when they are no longer your lover, no more than a friend, and it doesn't hit you until you begin to tell them how you forgot again to turn the lights off before bed, or that you saw their mother at the store, and it's then that you realize it's better to bite your tongue and keep moving on.

i can't help but think of exploring your pasture with you. filled with creeks that overran with water, and trees that made everything feel strong. the scraps of trash that made perfect chairs for us to sit and talk about everything that ****** in the world, and everything that we were afraid of. then nothing much mattered.
and i think of your dad, and the tiredness in his voice when he saw me, and tried to get out his best "hello," just for me. i think of the strength he carried within him, the strength he carried to hide the things that hurt him, mostly his own body betraying him, and making each step harder than the one before.  
i can't help but think of the day your parents brought back pan dolce after your dad's doctor appointment. something sweet to **** the sadness. i told you not to let me eat alone, so there we were, like kids in a candy store stuffing our faces. and as you left to the bathroom, i sat alone in your kitchen and searched for something to wipe the crumbs from my mouth, your house being so foreign to me, he saw me. he understood my shyness and laughed. something so simple as a napkin and i felt understood. i saw him. i saw you.
and i think of your eyes, the day you told me how you were scared that soon you'd need to be strong for everyone. i think of the fear in your voice that followed after you confessed to me, "the pills aren't working anymore."
i can't help but think of laying on your couch. your dad across from me watching a show he didn't care much about, but stayed because your mother was next to him. and i think of how much i saw him love her, how much she loved him more, in the short time i got to love you.
and i think of May when you were afraid i'd never come back, when you asked me, "why'd it take you so long?" and something in me understands now that you were right to be afraid, because as your friend i failed to come home when you needed me most.
so today, i couldn't help and hurt, to cry when i saw you from a distance. black from head to toe. and since May, i fianlly saw you. but now i couldn't see him. but i'm trying not to be sad, because how selfish of me to be upset that no longer does each step hurt, and the pills no longer matter.
how lucky i am, to know you.
how lucky i was, to know him.

ill write about everything you hate
about yourself and make it sound like
the most beautiful ******* thing.

it's no secret that she isn't my favorite person
but i don't hate her
because if it wasn't for her making you sad
you would've never ran into my arms

so here we are
three years later
and seeing her doesn't make me angry anymore
because you're mine forever

i can keep myself together,
really well,
until i'm asked if i'm okay.
and please believe me when i say:
i don't mean to be destructive,
i don't mean to be weak and let my
mascara run while i fall apart,
i don't mean to scream at you to stop
when you stretch your arms out
to comfort me and to kiss me,
but i've been avoiding asking myself
that question, because i know
i'm not okay.
im just here in hopes that everything will sort've come together,
even if it does just keep getting worse.

i want to stop wishing you were here. i want to stop trying to figure out why i couldn't make you stay. i want to stop wondering if my brown eyes were too brown, or if my short hair was too short.

i need to stop wishing you were here. i need to stop trying to figure out why i couldn't make you stay. i need to stop wondering if my brown eyes are too brown, or if my short hair is too short.

i'm okay by myself, and i tried my best to make you stay. i have my mothers eyes, and i love my short hair.

so i'm sorry if you come back home and the front porch light is no longer on. i'm sorry if you call and my number is out of service. i'm sorry if you miss me and you can't find me.

because you took so much from me.
and you bent me, but you didn't break me.