i know now that you're long gone
from the tight grasp we once held each other in

we were kids. i get that.
young and naive, gullible as to what our friends say.
with a distorted image of love
because of the movies we see on the screen

the first time we whispered our i  love  yous
it was awkward until our giggles filled up the air
and that's when i knew i spoke the truth

when you left me alone, you never said good bye
you were literally just gone
you left my heart in a distinct contortion
and that's when i felt such desperation

To the first boy I've ever loved,
When you come across this poem,
Don't hesitate, you know **** well that it's about you.
Cause the only thing you've taught me is
Forever isn't true.

I learnt this year
that twelve months is not a long time.

And suddenly I was up staring at the dates
burning past; I
was still sunken in the last wintersleep
when spring danced its dance
and left me watching
from the dark corner
of the bar that my life had become:
the dim lights, and broken hearts,
and the drunken thought of you
rushing in and waltzing out.

I learnt that
you are only as tired
as your last mistake.

And that people only remembered
what they wanted to forget.

I began to measure time
in the ways your laughter changed
from a river-burst resonance of joy,
to a difficult trickle of a mighty
stream
drying up.

(of broken hearts)

I keep saying that I was alright.
But then everytime I met someone who liked me I
would feel ruined.

Like the tunnels of my throat
has your signal lost
and the anatomy of my heart a hot ****** mess.
Its mixing up the hush from my lungs into my veins
reminding
me of how I couldn't talk you down.

sticky tears  
clog my colorless cheeks and
stain the corners of my eyes like
wrinkles, unnecessary

nothing really matters
why am I really crying and
why’d you leave, again?

I guess driving down the pretty highway
with the trees that shaded a
hot day in an
expired June
wasn’t enough.
and I didn’t need to read about how
you don’t want to talk to me
or how you're busy
truth is, we all have **** to do
like how i sit here and cry
and how my tears clog my colorless cheeks and
stain the corners of my eyes like
crows feet, perhaps necessary

because unlike you, they'll stick around.

Not a wink
Of sleep
Mind wondering
To some new
far off place
a map
with routes
I cannot retrace