Sometimes,
I wish my apartment steps
were made of glass
so the night we met -
they shattered and we never
would have made the connection
that sold my soul
to the devil
back last year.

The price
was that I would
miss you
for the rest
of my life,

And I wish I could
take it all back.

I'm glad you exist.
I need my space.
Some moments I just
want to be touched
very hard by your
logic and kindness.

Continue to learn me,
feel me, and love me slowly.
You tell me to trust you,
but the truth is I'm scared.

The last time I trusted so hard,
I was left to drown in the crater
of tears I created for myself.
I’m still coughing up water.

But this is the last time I want
someone else to hold that
kind of power over me.
You aren't a bad person,
I've just learned my lesson this time.

The things you don't realize
when your hearts separate
forever and you never speak
to one another ever again.

The sky is still the same
shade of blue as last February
when we kissed in your apartment,
teasing our fingers in each other's
hair, while your roommate
listened to us on the other
side of the door.

That tiny place still exists in
Boston where you left it,
even though your heart is
now in Seattle with some
new girl you just met.

I mean, I hope you're happy
wherever you are now.
With whomever you're with,
and doing what, or whom
you love so dearly.

I'm no longer the burden
that worsened your heavy mind.
I just wish you'd realize that
my heart never left your
tiny studio apartment on
the outskirts of the city.

Your eyes still haunt
and dazzle my mind's eye,
and yet your presence
is still long gone from me.

My collar bones and spine
are becoming too heavy
for my body to carry on and
act as if I don't miss you.

I feel my ribcage rattling against
my aching heart trying to beat.
My lungs struggle to catch
the last breath we exchanged.

One day I hope to meet you again,
face to face, so I can see that sliver
of guilt that you're holding onto,
and yet, be able to say I forgive you.

It’s almost 1AM,
and here I am wondering why
you never wished me a good night,
or even tried to tell me that you love me.

The conversation took a turn.
A turn, I wasn't expecting.
Like when a yield sign
is on one side of the road
and you have to brake anyway
for the people that don't follow it.

"I'm sorry," you breathed,
hugging your legs close,
tucking your hands behind
your kneecaps.

Your bed suddenly felt
like I was sitting on stone.
"You don't want me anymore,"
I shouted in a pain-ridden voice.
I pulled away, sinking further
into myself and bending over.

You pull for me.
Your hand snags my shirt
and then my arm.
You attempted to pull me
in closer to you.
I never understood why
you wanted to give me
a protective embrace.

"You said you don't want me anymore!"
I reiterated, looking at him with
tear-streaks on my cheeks.
Any hope left was in this one moment,
and it turned out to be the moment
you let me go.