Our best night was the night my phone broke.
We had to message each other on Facebook
so we looked through each other's old pictures
and bragged about our relationship status to our friends.
That was the night I called you from the home phone
and I laughed when you told me you once ate human flesh
and I laughed harder when you said
you're supposed to be scared.
That was the night I sent you a poem I found online
and you replied with the most honest profession of love
I have ever heard without using the word love.
That was the night we stayed awake until 5am
even though you had to get up at 6.
I could've sworn I loved you.
I could've sworn you loved me, too.

if you choose her I
will understand. My heart is
breaking regardless.

i like to torture myself
with the crippling thought
that if i still knew you,
and not just who i made,
i'd love you even more

your 90's dress sense
leather jacket
and bad hair bleach job
is all a part of someone
i have yet to know
but your eyes that
sink in above your cheeks
and the tiny gap
between all of your teeth
are the parts of you
that i can recognize as what
i'm still learning to let go of.

We always leave before the sun leaks through the faded curtains
Throwing clothes over our raw skin so the sky doesn't see us.
And you mostly pretend to sleep soundly on the bed, inching towards to crease where I fall asleep.
Because you're okay with leaving.
And because I've done it enough to prefer it.
Dances like ours aren't meant for the light of the day or the twinkle of the stars
But for the pitch black, utter, endless darkness of a windless night.
You are a cold breeze on my otherwise warm afternoon, giving me goosebumps and making me shiver.
Something I haven't decided if I like or not.

There's an echo that can be heard,
When the sun's blue sky is rising,
It most definitely sounds like a bird,
But what else you can hear is surprising.
Ears.

I hear a hum from a girl of long past,
Her perky lips saying there's flowers,
The air around her is sweet, her heart fast,
She admires the plants, they look like towers.
Child.

I hear a lover's tears as she hears her life end,
I can hear her texts back and fourth through the web,
She reads "No more, none of this, you aren't my girlfriend,"
So sad. Too bad. That's life. The flow and ebb.
Bliss.

I can hear a stomach growl and another missed a meal,
She never eats. When she does, it's reversed.
This secret of hers is dark and scattered, she may never heal,
I hear her fake the sounds of eating, I hear fake her thirst.
Hide.

I hear another poem written,
About someone who cuts,
She thinks it will help her fit in,
But she's only losing trust.
Red.

I hear a father sobbing upstairs,
His daughter has run away.
He knew she was having affairs,
He knew it would come to this day.
Behind.

I hear regrets being made,
I hear the lies they whisper,
I hear both of them say
Our love will never wither.
Liars.

I hear

If I never remember you,
how many times did we touch?

If there are no pictures,
where did we go together?

The past is the dust on
the dashboard of your car,
one speck for each moment
that is forgotten--
Did we ever happen?

I was going to write a poem today,
About love and loss,
Sin and gin,
But the motion was buried
By the question of how to drown myself
In the puddles outside my window.

i. you told me that my eyes are moonbeams, and
that sounded wrong because my eyes are small and
scared like an animal cowering in fear of a predator
and you used my tongue as a punching bag whenever
we kissed and bruises started showing up on the
toughest parts of my skin but maybe that was because
you painted them there to remind me that it's okay
to be scared /
to be vulnerable /
to be human

ii. it's easy to think that i am nothing but a
jigsaw puzzle of bones wrapped in someone else's
skin with a corrupted mind and a half a heart and
you came along with your crooked smiled and your
conflicting morals and i didn't understand you, but
that was okay because i didn't understand myself, and
that was okay because you showed me that understanding
yourself isn't important, and that's where things started
to go wrong

iii. you smelled like nicotine and honeydew and you
were cliché in such a subtle way that nobody noticed
and sometimes it felt like you were a figment of my
imagination and it took me too long to realize that in a
way, that's exactly what you were because that's all i
allowed you to be

iv. sometimes falling in love feels good, but other times
it means bleaching your skin so when you're laying in
an empty bed for the first time in a sixteen months, it
still feels like it's your own and that is something i know of,
but may never understand because i still feel the need to
wrap myself around you every night like a caterpillar that
doesn't want to become a butterfly and you tattoo my body
with your ink stained finger tips and it's safe to say that i am
poisoned by the constant thought of you

v. i don't know how much distance is between us but
there is always a home for you in the back corner of my
left side brain because you were really the only ******* thing
that made any sense to me