Everything is dust.
I found you on my bookshelf untouched.
I am sorry, I'll leave you there again and I'm never good at apologies.
I tried very hard to leave you alone, but you were this enigma.
I swear that the Gods put attracting magnets in both of us, because whenever I speak with you
I have this surge inside me, something that can't be explained.
It feels like we were written in the stars or some other *******.
I don't believe in that anyways.
Or I didn't, until you.
I am sorry that I wear nooses as necklaces, and I'm sorry that maybe you got tangled in them.
I'm sorry you couldn't breathe, because I wanted you to.
I want you to keep on breathing forever and when you can't anymore...
then I won't either.
I have a feeling that if you read this you'd be sick to your stomach.
I have a feeling that if I touched you again you wouldn't know why,
but you wouldn't ask.
You were just like that sometimes.
My candle flickers everytime I think of you, and I think it misses you as well.
I think that it needs you to stay aflame. I think I need you to stay aflame.

My neighbours are breaking some things out in the backyard and I kind of want to say
"hey, here's another thing you can break" and let them smash me into pieces with their hammer.
I think that would be a fun way to die.
You know, my brother asked me if I wanted to die in my sleep or of old age.
I said neither. I told him that I wanted to get in a big car wreck,
or murdered in an alley.
He asked why, and I consequently told him that I wanted to feel the life being pulled from me.
I told him you only die once. I don't think he was ready for that.
He is six.

If you were there you'd probably laugh and offer to be the one to ****** me.
In secret, I liked that about you.
I like that you clap your hands when you laugh.
I am sorry, I'll leave you there again.
I am sorry.
I'm never good with apologies.

I am sorry to her, also.
Because I never wanted her to hurt.
I was jealous that she gets you all the time.
I was jealous that she is your stars and your moon and your sun in the morning.
I only got to be a silhouette in your life. A shadowy figure clinging to dark magic and the shadows of ravens
in cemeteries where I imagined myself being buried.

I miss you so much and I've never even had you, how sad.
I think that someone like you almost always turns into a hurricane.
Everything good must come to an end and all those merry little details.
I've used up all of my metaphors on you.
I can't compare your eyes to anything else except for the most exquisite of art pieces,
and I've never been to a gallery.
I guess I'm not one to make judgement on anything.

I am so sorry for losing, but I am not sorry that you're winning.
You'll be much better now, and I think she makes you into more of a martyr.
I don't know how I feel about that.
The only poetic thing I can say to you now is "I'm sorry"
and even though I'm not good with apologies,
I really mean that.
I think now I've turned to dust.

You're so beautiful darling,
your words can move mountains even when you think
they can't touch an anthill.
You are a rebel with a cause and the cause is me.
You are Janis Joplin in the evening, without the ******.
"Darling, I love you"
"I love you, darling" and there was no need to say "too"
Three words were enough to throw a curveball in a hockey rink,
to ride horses in a car race, to love someone at night
and even more in the morning.
You are an earthquake, I know you'll break my heart but I welcome it.
It would be such an honor to be broken by you.
You are my guilty pleasure and all of my proud ones.
I want to tattoo you on my skin in places only I can see
so that every time I take off my sweater and my tshirt and everything
masking my scars and tree rings of age, I will always be surprised to find you.
I want to hold you in the crevice of my elbow like a baby and never ever let you go.
Darling, you're a willow tree that I write poems under.
In the most poetic way, I found you in hallways, always.
In my high school where I hid in the bathrooms, Jane loves John
and everything else scribbled in hearts in bad ninth grade writing.
I found you there. I find you here, in my heart.
You are filled with blood, you are 72% water that I would gladly drown in.
I think if I kissed you you'd poison me with your lips.
You are the forked tongue of desire.
I want to talk to you about dreams, I want to be your sweetest nightmare.
I don't want you to question reality but if you do, think you're lucid dreaming.
Because I want you to want me around; even when you're sleeping.
You are 2am with the lights on and the music loud.
You are a five hour time difference dancing inside of me like a storm.
If my knees wouldn't give out, I would run to you.
And when they did, I would crawl to you.
My hands scraped from debris from car crashes, you are electric.
You are heat lightning. You give me flashes of hope on a humid day.
You are a winter breeze through a cracked window in all of the glorious ways that could be glorious.
I will whisper to you that I don't know why I'm whispering,
there is nobody home, "I love you" sounds better in hushed tones.
You're so beautiful, Darling.
The prettiest pictures you'll ever take will be self-portraits.
Don't argue with me, I know you're stubborn.
It's written in the stars.
You can move me like a mountain or an anthill
because your strength is a blood diamond permanently placed on my left hand.
I did, I do, I will.
You are forever.

I miss you like sadness.
I used to wrap around myself like some lovelorn python
with a desire for suicide blondes.
Called yourself a wrecking ball, but you had no choice.
Maybe you wanted to caress my house softly without destruction.
Maybe you cried afterwards like a lost child on a mountain of doubt.
Full of maybes! You make me full of maybes!
I was taught as a child that maybe was just a watered down no.
Stop watering the truth down, I'm not your flower.
I'm a ****.
And I'll just continue to grow until I can't fit in anything except for my own grave.

You make me want to go to church.
I was baptised once, I forget as what.
I honestly don't even know what religion is,
but I can religiously blacken my lungs with nicotine and lies.
Lie with me.
Caress my sins.

My body is world war three,
I have nuclear bombs in the dips of my collarbones
and every single freckle you used to compare to the galaxies
are bullet holes.
Save your prose for someone who gives a ****.

Pull the blinds baby, we don't need light in here.
Did you know that with three minutes of asphyxiation you become brain dead?
Let's try it baby, suicide pact?
Let's dance with the dead darling.
You always said the devil was our best friend.

My tarot cards turned black when you turned them over.
You said that I was hard to read.
I had trouble reading anything except the bell jar.
And now it's my turn to ring it.

You're prettier with a necklace made of fingers.
I want to collect your energy in a mason jar and sell it at a garage sale.
I want to smash it in the middle of a highway and lay in a ditch until the wolves eat my body.
I want to be lost.
Lose me baby.
I'll lose myself in your lies.
Lie with me.
I just want to be held.

If I thought I was losing you I wouldn't beg you to stay
I'd say that when you breathe, I see stars because I imagine your heart inside your body pumping blood
to your veins and your lungs expanding and letting go and all I can think of is how I never want to be your lungs
because I could never let go of your air.

I'd tell you that your eyes put the northern lights to shame.
That I've been everywhere and nowhere feels more at home than
sitting on the curb of a street in a city I don't know with you by my side.

If I thought I was losing you I would tell you that I'm not one
for love poems, but the sound of you saying my name is enough to make me think of red roses and blue violets.
And that when you touch me the roses are blue and the violets are red
and everything painful inside my head doesn't matter.

If I thought you were going to leave I wouldn't ask you to stay,
I'd tell you that every word that comes from your mouth leaves me breathless;
That there are little caves in your body and I picked a temporary home in your larynx
so you could always feel me in the words you're nervous to say.

I'd let you know that my whole life I've been searching for myself,
and amidst the shadows I found your bright eyes, and I lost my senses there...
and found them as well.

I want to tell you that all I need is you and a record player.
That music runs through my veins, and right next to Every Grain of Sand
and my love for Bob Dylan, you're there.
Shining through my bloodstream, leading the way to my heart.

If I thought I was losing you, I wouldn't beg you to stay.
I'd say that you're the best and worst thing that has ever happened to my poetry.
That I find metaphors in the notches of your spine,
that I play them like a piano.
And most of all, above all these things,
I'd say darling don't go, I'll miss you.

I don’t know you
What you liked,
What you hated,
What you wished for
I only know the surface of the vast ocean that made you, you

I never wondered what made you this way
Only that you where
I hated you,
Loved you,
Admired you

I never thought to take the time
To stop and really try to understand all the many layers that made up the person who I most resembled

You are quick to anger, easy to please, and a terrible, terrible mother
But you are my best friend, the one who I could run to,
Even when I knew you couldn't help

I told you
What I hated, what I liked, what I wished for
I told you what I wanted you to know

I don’t know you
Now I never will