I found you one day
unassuming and shameless
and I liked this innocent boldness I saw
shining through your face

You are my glimmer of hope
my beacon of light
when the darkness consumes me.
you see my blackened soul
and thaw my frosty heart
the way that no one else can
or ever could.

Why do I allow myself to feel this?
with other men, the initial thought is
I must stay guarded
don't let them in
hurt them before they hurt you.
with you, none of those thoughts enter my mind.

I am scared that you will be scared of me
but I allowed myself to show
you the ugliest parts of me
and yet you still tell me I am beautiful.

Somehow,
you do not think I am a basket case.
you are the only person I have ever met
who makes me believe that I really can get better.

You would tell me you loved me only when I was on you
We had *** in the street once at 2 am
Warm asphalt under our skin

You would moan that you loved me as you came inside me
I wonder if you noticed I never told you I loved you
unless we were fully clothed

The first time I told you I loved you
we were eating homemade peach ice cream
and you were wearing your favorite red jacket
and we were talking about the planets at 8 pm by a hidden pond

The first time you told me you loved me
you were wearing crumpled plaid boxers around your feet
and we were writhing in the back seat of your tinted jeep at the park

The last time you told me you loved me
we were in my bed at 3 am running from the police
and you were in my mouth trying to create a victory that involved
me swallowing

And its funny that way

I was always swallowing bits and pieces of you
and even now I seem to be constantly on the verge of regurgitating memories and moments I thought had long since been forgotten

They say if you love someone, let them go

I let you fly like a paper airplane across a classroom
and you haven’t returned yet

"Don't purge"
they say
"It only makes it worse."
Oh, if only they knew.

That rush,
that physiological sensation
that accompanies the mental one
is all I need to breathe.
So why must it be wrong?

The calming motion
of sticking your fingers down your throat
until you gag
until you cannot breathe
until you feel that acidity
crawling up your throat
as a demon emerges from Hell's depths.

It is as if you are allowing a well-kept secret
an abundance of pain
to be released
to meet catharsis.

So necessary,
from an inside perspective.
So beautiful,
from an artistic one.
So cold,
from any sane person looking in.
They can never understand
how crucial it is in fighting the breakdowns
that plague my life under stressful circumstances.

I know,
it is hard for you to believe
or comprehend.
But this
painful yet pleasing obsession
is keeping me calm, keeping me okay.
And, quite possibly,
keeping me alive
month after month
week after week
day after painful day.