I woke up in yet another mess of bed sheets
with your bare chest up against my back
and my legs tangled up with yours underneath those flannel sheets
that haven’t been washed in weeks. The candle beside the bed still flickering
from the night before.
You loosened your grip as I crawled from that queen size bed
searching for that baby blue blouse that I dropped onto the floor
last night after we were done talking in circles.
I slid into it in a lame attempt to hide the not so invisible ink of our past
that speckled my upper body like freckles across my face
after a hot, summer's day.
Steam filled the small apartment,
leaking out of the bathroom door after you managed to roll out of bed
and into the shower. As the hot water hit the bottom of the tub
we spent hours in over the past year laughing until our fingers turned pruney,
I striped the bed
getting rid of the *****, wax stained sheets we used to sleep in
with the hopes of this time leaving behind the people we once were.

Free spirited, opened minded, and an adrenaline ******,
you never took no for an answer,
always suggesting
something outrageous to outdo the time before.
You encouraged me to push the envelope
when I begged you to play it safe.
I was sipping my second Shirley Temple when you swallowed
the last mouthful of your twelfth glass Busch.
You spent the night mumbling snide remarks
about the shirt I was wearing to your friends
across the table while I sat there biting my tongue remembering
I still had ink healing from our last "adventure"
a few weeks ago.
Leaving hours later, I helped you
stumble into your apartment and land on the bed.
I slipped out of my blouse and walked
away trying to ignore your comments while my throat burned.
I couldn’t take the accusations.
      I hated getting to this point,
yelling at each other from across the room until the sun peaked through
the pane of that little kitchen window.
Talking in circles even though we knew
neither of us were going to win.
This time, I assumed would be like any other, ending in
the innocent, small town girl getting sick
from the constant the back and forth
          but you got up.
Walking in my direction, lighting
candles as you went,
creasing my face and pulling me in
you whispered in the voice I hadn’t heard since that first I love you:
I’d rather fight with you than make love with anyone else
    and at the end of the day
I realized that was all that mattered.

I was an oblivious eighteen year old
obsessed with flower crowns and chocolate chip cookie dough
drinking to remember while others drank to forget.
I was ready for change and embraced anything that didn’t resemble
small towns, closed spaces, and my comfort zone.
You were a taste of spontaneity, caramel candy drops, and daisies
in a never ending field of possibilities. Five minutes with you
soon brought me more excitement than friendship bracelets and SpongeBob shaped mac and cheese.
You were everything
but predictable. That first night alone,
candles burning all around us,
       you touched me
without using your hands. I’d never felt anything
like the invisible ink you used to write all over me,
covering every crease and crevice without even trying.
Being a naïve, ******* girl I fell
for what I thought would forever be my favorite one night stand
that instead turned into almost every night as the hot summer air turned to chilly afternoons
with colorful leaves falling around us.
Looking up at the stars I thought I’d never have to be alone in the darkness again until
the invisible ink started to transform
into bruises from too much Bacardi and scars
from the flames you used to light those candles
the night you first said I love you.
I’ll never be able to forget the soft sound of your breathing
as I lied there
          uncovered,
     unsure
of what those nights meant
to me, to you
for us.

Lost in my make-up bag in the second drawer of my dresser
is that pale pink lipstick I forgot and made you turn around for the night of your friend’s wedding
where we showed up after the bride had already walked down the isle.
Somewhere in the depths of my car hidden
under countless grass stained blankets and empty bottles is that shirt you let me wear
that I forgot to give back after your best friend tripped
and covered me in a mix of Vlad and Red Bull only an hour after we got to the party.
Behind the first door to the left on the third shelf in the bathroom closet
is an extra toothbrush you keep for me to use when I forget mine every Saturday night.
Buried in your wallet underneath your driver’s license in a secret pocket
is a $20 bill you keep for unplanned trips to that little ice cream shop
that doesn’t accept credit cards to pay for my brownie sundae because I forgot
my wristlet back  at your apartment.
Concealed in one of the basement cabinets of my parents’ house
is the anniversary present I spent more than a weeks-worth of late nights up working on
but forgot to give you because we spent that whole day in the hospital
with your grandfather who died a month later.
Locked on my computer behind multiple different passwords and codes
disguised in folders and files with ordinary but unrelated names are hundreds of snip-its
jammed with emotions of regret, lust, and jealousy
that I forgot to send because you always bought me daisies from that tiny flower shop
you knew I loved.
Laying in your bed late at night wrapped in just that fleece blanket I gave you
waiting for you to get out of the shower is the girl you forgot to tell me about.

We used to run outside when we heard the thunder crack
across the sky just so we could feel the rain on our skin
as it fell from the sky just like we fell in love.
We used to drive around for hours not knowing
where we would end up and not caring
about the price of gas as we wasted tank after tank
only stopping the car when we were running

on fumes. Now my tank is full and I'm making the drive
on the interstate away from those familiar back roads
where we wasted countless hours with music blaring
through the speakers as my hand rested in yours
like the sun seemed to rest behind that tree line

at the place were we always seemed to end up
on those long drives to no where.
I'm watching the mile markers fly by as you start to cloud my mind like the storm
that's starting to take shape over me.
The lightning flashes in the darkness and I'm taken back
to all the days we smiled for our flashing phone cameras
until our faces hurt. But that was the good kind

of pain. Tonight, as I'm reminded
with each passing
road sign that I'm getting further and further away
from those open fields and dirt roads;
I realize I'm getting further away from those wasted nights eating
too much ice cream and staying up too late.
The little light by my gas gauge flicks on as another bolt
strikes the sky.
The all too familiar sensation takes over
as I take the next exit.
I fill up to capacity but get back on the interstate to realize I'm everything but full.
I'm missing you.

The dark had just started to set in the sky
when your car made its way down the gravel drive a little faster
than any of us would have dared.
Shouting as soon as you opened the car door I couldn't help
but notice the already half empty bottle of liquor
you almost dropped twice on your way into the kitchen.
I just swallowed a Jell-O shot
when you grabbed my arm. "Can we be friends?" You slurred out
in between the shot and the chaser. "Sure" I said seeing just how drunk you were and knowing you wouldn't remember anything

in the morning. The heat from the fire that was scorching my skin didn't burn
half as much as the shots all of us were taking
out of that dusty, old bottle we found hidden in the back of my dad's closet. Log after log was put onto the fire
trying to get the new logs to spark from the hot ambers that still remained. You sat down
next to me bringing up things

we used to have in common thinking the memories of hot days
in the sun and late night ice cream pig outs would comfort me
like you did the cold night that boy lost control.
The aroma of the liquor from the now empty bottle swirled in the air
as you downed the last three gulps like it was water
from that green bottle you used to carry around

with you. Mumbling something
about needing another drink you stumbled back to the camp.
A piece of ash the size of the quarters we flicked
into that pretty wishing fountain more than two years ago
fell onto the dirt in front of me.
I sat there as I watched it extinguish
before my eyes just like our friendship had
those many nights ago.

There once was a time when I couldn't fall asleep
without your strong arms around me and your breath on my neck,
but now I despise when you fill that empty space next to me and flop
your now saggy arms across my waist as you move in closer
and the scent of alcohol creeps out of your mouth
to fill the once sweet smell of our room.
It's 11 PM, and I'm laying in that queen size bed trying to decide
if I should let the darkness take over me or turn a light on
because I know you'll be calling in a few hours
to come get you because you're too drunk to drive home.
The front door creeks open then slams shut
as I hear footsteps on those old, wooden stairs you promised me 3 months ago
you would carpet.  The clock reads 11:11 and I make a wish
That it wouldn't be you
stumbling into our room, crawling into bed, and trying
to get lucky.
Waiting for the familiar sound of your jeans hitting the floor, I braced myself
for the unpleasant smell and feeling
that was about to encompass me.
I close my eyes and try to let the darkness overpower me before you get the chance to.