We were always missing each other by minutes.
In the same place,                                                           ­                                                                 ­         At the wrong time.
Watching the same sunset,                                                          ­                                                              Fro­m opposite sides of the neighborhood.
You were painting,                                                        ­                                                                 ­              While I was writing.
You were living while I was trying,                                                          ­                                                To not fall in love with another boy who’d never notice me.
Wishing we had met just a little later                                                            ­                                                When I became the women I wanted to be,                                                              ­                                 When I grew into the girl who would have fit you perfectly.
I was always playing the game.
Waiting for you.
When I’d arrive late,                                                            ­                                                                 ­  You’d show up even later.  
When I’d sit in the room, much to soon,                                                            ­                                        Hoping that you’d come early.                                                           ­                                                     I would learn that you had left hours ago.
We are parallels,                                                       ­                                                                 ­           Moving in the same direction                                                        ­                                                   But a two completely different rates.            
We were always missing each other.
By a minute.                                                          ­                                                                 ­               By a month.                                                           ­                                                                 ­                By a life time.

I break the men that fall in love with me.
I teach them to worship me,
Then leave them for suffocating me.

I fill their heads with the ideas that I am lucky to have them and that I don’t have the self esteem to leave them.

Then one day, hit them with the,
“I’ve grown out of you.”


I am switch blade with a broken safety feature.
I cut whoever’s hand is holding me.

Know that if you are to leave,
you can always come back.

Seven years is long enough
    to change everything about one's self.

New hair,
   New clothes,
   New friends.

Your favorite movie probably isn't even the same.
But I remember what it was half a decade ago,
               and it's still my favorite.

Your voice is deeper now,
your words arent as sweet.
I have no clue what has happened to you
in the past seven years.

But I won't get over the fact
that your eyes are still kind,
and I imagined marrying you one day.

The frightening part of it all was when he kissed me,
my mouth then starved for him.
He had become oxygen, and my lungs quite empty.
With every touch my body burned
with an eager fire that ignited inside of me.