on one hand
i've never been so happy about you not being here
and on the other
i've never been so miserable without you next to me

people ask how i'm holding up
i don't know what my honest answer is
i'm dumbfounded
i think you're something i just have to let go of because i was used to you being around for so long, not so much i miss you
you screamed and cried day after day
you hated this life
and all the people in it
i tried to save you, but you were too far in
i leaned just a little and toppled over you

now you're above and i'm under and
I'm
Just
Not
Sure
How
To
Breathe

Don't ever fall in love with a poet
because they will indeed admire and watch your every move
they will write about how the pen marks on the side of your palm when you write
don't ever because they will trace
every single freckle you have on your face and
write about the color of each and every one of them and
describe how they smile so brightly under the sunlight
they will want you to want to know every little thing about them
even if it's just what hand they write with and want you
to be wondering why they write with that specific hand when in
reality it doesn't even matter

the poet will watch the way you dig
your eyes onto that book and your small quick remarks onto the 26 letters all crumpled together and will know that everyday at 5:28 p.m. you smile

they will look deeply into your eyes
to see if they can at least take a little
peak of your soul and they will write
about you like if you were the only
thing they see good in this world

they will want to know what you think
about when you look at them and
see if you also count each and
every freckle and hope and write  
that you do but they will
love you endlessly and they will
show you that they love you and only you

but don't date a poet if you aren't
capable to watch them and
admire their imperfections
when they sleep late at night
beside you.

j.f

Woah,
its my seventeenth birthday
and all I can think is
tomorrow is yours

I've always heard that time heals all wounds
This is an incredibly false accusation

All time does is allow me to over think and muster up scenarios that didnt even happen, causing more problems than I had in the first place

With time, I miss you for more hours
And, I forget your touch
And the smell of your skin
I forget the pitch of your voice
And I can't remember what was written on the sweater you wore all the time
I cannot remember the precise color of your hair
Or if it was your left or right index finger that curved

Time does not allow the healing process, it allows you to forget
And I wanted to remember every detail of your body

But I cannot

I always want to start my poems with "its funny" even though they never are

they're always about you or her

I don't understand why I can't write anything beautiful
but then again, I don't understand why you two left
you slammed the door in my face
and my best friend sneaked out slowly
did she not think I'd notice?
I cannot sleep and I cannot breathe and I cannot listen to music without your faces coming into view

I see you everywhere
I'm always double looking
and my throat catches
but its never you
just my mind playing tricks and my hopes getting up to knock me down

oh ****. I just realized I'm writing about you two again.

Bitten finger nails to the quick
Fuzzy hair standing up on end
Sad, tired eyes
Endless pit
Bare feet and purple toe nail polish
No jacket
Lying on the park bench and feeling nothing
She feels nothing