I want to tell you that I miss you like every friend I have ever lost.
The wind mocks me, knocking me off my feet just to try and replicate how you used to make me feel.
Every single thing reminds me of you.
The stars are not poetic, they're dead.
You said to find poetry in everything that leaves,
but you never understood why I tattooed the names of everyone who has ever taken their lives too soon on my wrists.
I yearn to be a museum,
to be every prayer you never said.
There is no religion that worships your smile, so I am an atheist.
Whispers flood my ears, telling me to stop poking holes through my skin.
To stop finding solace in pain, in the beauty that comes after it.
I want to whisper back that every rose has it's thorn,
but I really hate that song.
I sometimes wonder if all of our plans will stay intact,
if you will still come to me in the summer, when the water is half-warm
and my nerves are on fire, waiting.
I hope so.
I've never been good enough for anything except illegal things,
I want to stop relying on synthetic euphoria to keep breathing.
I want to stop but I can't.
I just want to rely on you.
You're so far away.