In this world, I am a gun
and you a letter unsent.
Imagine me on the right
side of the bed saying I love you.
Does it hurt?

In this world, I am a car
and you a gunshot.
All you ever do is leave and darling,
I’m sick of being your runaway car.

In this world, I am a crime-scene
and you have always
treated me like a case to crack.
I am not a film noir; I know you
know how to appreciate a good mystery.

In this world, I am a tectonic plate
and you fog so thick you can’t
see your own hands even when
you hold them right in front of your face.
Can you see me leave?

In this world, I am blood
and you salt water in my lungs.
Imagine me on the right
side of the bed saying I love you.
Does it hurt?

Said boys are usually found in nightclubs, where they’ll grab your waist and whisper in your ear but six months later you’ll find yourself drunk texting them that you miss them and they won’t respond.

2. Said boys walk like fire and look like they’re burning, ashes trailing behind them and you, too, will be nothing but a burnt out shell when they’re done with you, honey.

3. Said boys draw patterns on the small of your back and when they have left, their touches will have sunken into your skin and left scars deep beneath it.

4. Said boys call you sweetheart, look at you like you hung the moon, smile at you like you’re everything, everything, everything—

5. Said boys claw out your heart with blunt fingers, plant seeds of insecurity in between your ribs, call you broken after they have crushed every bone in your body.

6. Said boys hand you drinks and see your acceptance as an open invitation to ruin you.

7. Said boys will always ruin you.  

8. Said boys like short dresses in ruby red, like blood, like blood, like blood.

9. Said boys may act like they’re kissing your body but they’re looking for weak spots with their mouths.

10. Said boys know your mother raised you well, know you will not cry over a man when you’ve been through worse, know you are strong—

11. Said boys know your father gave you a pocket knife, know the ****** 101 he gave you when you turned thirteen.

12. Said boys will not follow you in their cars, will not corner you in an alleyway, will not walk too close behind you on the sidewalk.

13. Said boys will take you on dates and kiss you after the fourth, said boys will take it slow, said boys will text you good morning beautiful’s and call ******* making love.

14. Said boys will not look like their shoulders are too weak, or their voices too quiet.

15. Said boys will make sure no monster can enter your bed but them.

16. Said boys will make you thank them for it.

17. Said boys like it when you smile at them, like an open invitation to let them ruin you.

18. Said boys will always ruin you.

There’s a difference between red and black.
If he hurts you, you should’ve seen it coming.
What were you wearing? What were you wearing?
They rearrange your vocabulary until you can’t remember thank you and help me are not synonyms.
If he hurts you, you should’ve seen it coming.
What were you wearing?
You can fall, but if some man doesn’t hear it, you didn’t make a sound.
What were you wearing?

I'm telling you:
         There must be a way out of here.
I love you with burnt fingertips, with chewed off nails and worrying frowns asking if maybe maybe maybe you could come and fix me.
Sometimes I wonder if we'll ever make it back home.

There's not much I can give you besides twelve suicide attempts and a scarred body.
Flowers don't grow near me. Flowers don't grow in me.
I've never been good with words, but you are a case unsolved, you are stubble-burn on sunday mornings.

Most days I am certain I could love you to ruins.
Most days my skin is too tight for me to move, most days my lungs don't accept oxygen, most days my eyes don't know how to stay closed and
I keep seeing things I don't want to see.
Most days I wonder when I stopped being a city and became an exit wound.

The days you're gone I think about gravity, about tectonic plates,
about fog so thick you can't see your own hands even when you're holding them right in front of your eyes.
I think about you, not just unable but also unwilling to consume me whole.
I think about my mother, cigarette smoke and lonely days, cuddles with children too big to still be in bed with her.
I think about deserted islands, car crashes and how sometimes life crashes down around you like the remnants of a 747.
I think about echoes, about shaking hands and trembling voices
and I think about her, singing daughter's still until the ocean swallowed her whole.

Please stop with all your leaving. I'm scared of all your constant moving on. I never said anything about the way you tried to find God between my temples but today is the day you stop mourning me because, darling, I'm not even dead yet. And I know you feed on me, I know you've never done anything else than believing you're not good enough, humble humble boy, but I can tell you that the fires you started will do more damage than you anticipated.
I'm more than okay with that. I wrote you a letter once or twice saying that should I not **** myself I would gladly be killed by you. When you talk, sometimes I wish I was deaf so I'd have a reason to study your lips. You have no idea how your touch feels.
I never asked you about the things you talk about in your sleep. I never asked you about the pleas for fire.
In the end, I'll still be the match that didn't light and I don't know where you will be.
Tell me all of your fears. I'm only scared of you. Of you never loving me like this. Never like this.

I want you to stop talking about beautiful people like you are not one of them. I want you to look at yourself and smile and think about the ocean, how I loved you more than I loved myself. After this, there will be no more echoes. After this, there will be no more staying. I don't think I will continue to try an write you down in poems. I don't think I will wait up for you when I reach the border. You're a ******* tidal wave. A gunshot straight to the core and I hold my breath but fall apart anyway. You claw your way out of my ribcage like I am temporary, like you haven't kissed truths and secrets into the pale of my wrists. You were never that fond of my fire, but even when you realised all I've ever been is ice cold your hands still trembled when you'd come too close. And everything without you is quiet like the h in honest and the sounds you didn't make when you left. I love you. I thought the bruises you left on my hipbones implied you felt the same, but I'm not sure anymore. I am no longer myself. I handed you a knife so you could cut me open and into pieces, rearrange me any way you'd prefer but all you did was take it and stare at your hands like they weren't yours. Hit me with a closed fist and let me pretend it's your heartbeat. Tear me open until I'm nothing but truths, until I'm nothing but fire, until I'm nothing. Remember those nights when we'd stare at a clouded sky and you'd pretend to point out the stars? I'm different now. My bones don't break as easily as they did back then. You see, I still carry around the double edged knife in my left pocket, I still act like you were here once, I still act like I used to be good enough.