i'm in a car with a beautiful boy,
and i keep telling him that i love him,
so it hurts.
he thinks it's platonic, thinks that i
couldn't turn the entire world
upside down just to show him
how wrong he is.
it's been a week, he says.
(i know this, and i know it hurts, so i
hold his hand except i don't,
not really,
because it all happens in my head)
i tell him, i know, i'm sorry.
and it feels like my hands are on fire
because all i want is to hold him;
i see the ashes leave traces everywhere:
on his face, on his hands, his arms,
his heart.
i blink and it's all gone.
i'm back in the car with the beautiful boy.
he reaches out and holds my hand
and my ribcage expands;
for once in my life,
this is something i cannot find a name for.

sometimes i find you at the bottom of wine bottles
sometimes i see you when i close my eyes
(even behind my eyelids you burn so brightly)

i'd say sorry but you wouldn't hear me
(do you ever?)
so i yell "what's the point?"
and you look at me
right
at me
and i don't need your pitying pity eyes
stop looking at me that way
i will never deserve that type of attention

someday we will stand at the ruins
and you will hold the charred remains in your hands
and you will tell me
"there is nothing in life that isn't
worth saving."

i wanted to hold you,
to touch you,
to make everything better;
to tell you i love you
over and over
like a broken record
if only you could allow me

'make everything better', i said.
if only i'd had realized -
you burn when you touch the sun.

i burn myself down to cleanse my sins
i burn myself down to accept it
all's fair in love and war, and anyway,
it is not myself i love, but this war
is waged on my insides.

there's a sort of drowning here –
drowning in sadness, anger, regret,
drowning–in–whatever. i guess.

something like dante's inferno:
nine circles of hell, but this
is all me.
nine circles of all my failures,
one for each piece
of worthlessness possible.

there's nothing in here.
stop looking.

your mouth is open, words
settling in your throat like
all those memories you’ve shared
and all those times you’ve thought
about him, and
nothing comes out. your
tongue is a home for all the
things unsaid and your ears
a shelter for all the things
unheard.
there is a black sky—
small lights prickle the velvet;
bones and flesh and blood lie
beneath it and he’s in your arms
and you’re home.
you wish he knew, you wish
he could just take your brain
your heart your entire being
so he knows it’s real so he knows
you love him.
and maybe, just for now
you forget about everything
that holds you back
and tell him how much you care
because his guitar strings
might as well be your heart
and it tugs, heavily;
as long as you’re together
you can do anything,
you love and live and everything
in between.
you’re with him and you
are a bird flying
because you know that
if you leave him, you’ll
still come back.

you expect moving on to become an achievement.
i didn't know.
three years of absence to forget the better part of two years.
it had nothing left for me.

they slip away like a ghost.
why do people come back then? when are we supposed to totally let go?
i felt like this empty place i no longer get along with.
(i could say we're alright. probably.)
i burn down to forget about you and there is no way to go back.

this letter is under my copy of a tale of two cities that you love so much.
([to: E] hey.)
there are days where i am nobody. there are days where i am the person you know.
there are days where we don't talk.
there are days where we talk and i talk too much and you tell me you never want to see me again.
i say, okay.
(okay okay okay okay okay ?)
it's the first time that i did leave. today marks the day i haven't seen you in two weeks.
today my kneecaps clank when i walk. i can't go to you because my kneecaps make too much noise and i don't want you to hear me.
i had a dream where you left. you never leave. it's always me.
but you left and you never came back and all i had was your sweater and your phone and a grave.
i woke up and i remembered that i left. it's been two weeks.
([from: E] hey.)
oh, look. it's you. hello, you.
it's me who left and yet it's you who came back.
you look sad.
(why are you sad? and i realized i said that out loud)
you say, you left me. i didn't mean it.
i say, it's okay. and, i'm sorry.
you say, okay.
(okay?)
and, i love you.
i say, i love you too.

note to self: you're normal.
it doesn't matter if you like girls,
or if you make stupid ****** decisions.
you're a human being. it's okay.

note to self: stop jumping to conclusions.
you're not a mind reader. sometimes
you're just looking for ways to hate yourself.
you're just fine, don't worry about it.

note to self: don't rush things.
you'll get better at your own pace.
you don't do things that quickly and that's okay.
these things take time.

note to self: things will get better.
as diana goodman from next to normal said,
"you don't have to be happy at all
to be happy you're alive."