I've started removing the happier pictures of us from my walls and now their empty rectangular skeletons are left all over the surface of the paint.
I can't decide if it is an aesthetically pleasing coincidence or a ****** up metaphor for the way I left you but it's funny how time can rot everything and everyone in its path.
I'm sorry for being happy without you.

They cut down all the trees that stood in the entrance to your neighborhood
and I wondered if it was a sign that we were meant to end after all,

because what are the chances that on the same day
I sat next to your mother's girlfriend in a parking lot
nowhere near her house or yours
and ignored her glances
when only a week before I would have made pleasant conversation?

How perfectly in tune would the universe need to be
for me to find out only hours later
that he has a birthmark on the outside of his wrist
just like you do?

Whether I'm the first person you think of
when you open your eyes in the morning
Or the last person you would choose to call
in an emergency of sheer panic
At least I am running through your mind at all
And I will keep running.

Your room is becoming my broken boat in the middle of a raging ocean, but it won't float with both of us in it.
We can patch up the holes all we want but we both know that tape won't permanently fix splintered boards and I know you can't admit it but you'd survive just fine if I jumped into the mouth of the creature that's been stalking us and the sea would slowly bring you back to shore if you would let it because it's much fonder of you than it's ever been of me.

It can be anything as simple as not wearing your seat belt.
It becomes difficult to take your medication,
without wondering how much is too much.
Looking in the mirror is like looking into the face of a ghost,
and eventually you won't bother looking at all
because it's not like you ever see anything anyway.
Everything feels out of reach,
and no one ever notices.

I am a thief with no heart of my own
creeping up onto window sills
and tip toeing into the dreams
of falsely accused prisoners
and no mercy is present once I stand in your room
and take what makes me stronger
as if I am the one who should be given a shield

and victims will lie willingly as they are seduced
and no mercy is ever present
even after we escape into the walls
(your former organs and I)
desperately searching for the flesh of the next.

I will **** them to hell before returning to my heaven
because even the sky cannot cut through my deceptive skin.

Thank you for allowing me to swim to the surface
Before sinking down to the lowest point you've ever been.