i'd tell you that

(i shivered when you left me in your bed to dress myself and
i hated when you used the heart eyes emoji on other girls and
i felt ugly when you said "something smells fruity" and i pointed to my lips
and you didn't kiss them and
i can't believe you didn't tell me you were a ****** and
why didn't you ever take me to the movies and
i've walked past your house and cringed and
i've missed you so ******* much and
i was doing fine without you and
i won't let you in again)

i'm so glad you're back.

locking the door behind me,
my cold blood making the transition
from blue to red,
your smile shooting scorching rays at my
tundra of a soul --
violet.

your tawny skin stretched over your tense jaw,
illuminated by the blacklight moon --
violet.

my whole body had been blue for months
without your touch,
but that night, your hot fingers,
touched me red
and it swirled with the blue --
violet.

the sky was a not-quite-black blue
(i think i was still bruised, too)
but i wore rose-colored glasses
and it all was
violet.

the color of magic is the conjunction of
hot and cold --
violet.

i sat down in the middle of Myself,
eyes stinging from the
rush of air that your quiet
escape brought in through the doorway.

i thought i could fall in love with
a mug of black coffee
but it didn't taste quite like you (you had some sugar
masking your bitterness).

But i liked how the place looked without your
carelessness strewn all over the carpet,
and i liked breathing in air untainted by
your dusty indifference.

i dreamt about a bridge that
swayed ominously over a broken dam and
i dreamt about me standing in its center and
i dreamt about it bending under my weight like a trampoline with too many kids on it and
i dreamt about it snapping back into place like a slingshot right before
the wood even had a chance to skim the rushing waters

and i know that the water is You

At first a stab --
and then months of leaving the dagger in my skin, because I was afraid of the gaping tear it would leave behind,
it festered and turned purple (they told me I had to take it out)
So I did,
and there was a stream of blood that I used to think wouldn't stop flowing (I thought I'd die of shock), but then my body said Okay Alright, This Needs To Stop,
and the blood congealed--
but this was my last connection to the dagger, to the hand that held it,
I couldn't let it disappear,
I'd fall into trances in which my overgrown fingernails would claw at the wounded site,
just to feel the rush of blood again (but it wasn't quite right this time)
But no matter how much I intervened on the healing process, my body was smarter, had more authority over me.
Soon the wound became untouchable,
nothing but an angry line of scar tissue that I could no longer sabotage.
My skin is whole again, the breeze no longer stings, water no longer burns like acid.
(But sometimes the area aches, pulsates with something I cannot determine to be real or imaginary)
Sometimes  my throat tightens because I think the wound has opened again, my stomach churns at the notion of healing again (or worse- never healing at all)
But then I remember that the smell of my own blood is unfamiliar, and the breeze doesn't sting anymore, and water doesn't burn like acid.

you are beautiful,
with your angular, square jaw (or was it more rounded, i don't remember, i don't want to)
with your warm bronze skin (or was it more mocha, i don't remember, i don't want to)
and your perpetually faultless disposition
(i could never find a crevice to wedge myself into)
and your hands are beautiful
for the way they strummed my body
(it sounded so good i didn't know you were tone deaf)
and your aura was so beautiful
when it mingled with mine
and the patterns were so beautiful
but they could never become one color,
mine was dark when yours was bright and the contrast
was blinding
(you were the first to gain back vision)
you were so beautiful. (to me)
(not anymore)

i was so focused on the corpse of What I Thought We Were
until my eyes zoomed out to find
that i was walking through a cemetery
of things that Used to Be,
and instantly found it silly to focus on one unmarked grave when there were so many others
that had nothing to do with love or ***,
nothing to do with you --
older, more elaborate graves
that i mourned from the dawn of my life to now,
more important deaths.

i want to wake up from you like a skewed nightmare
and feel the familiar relief of reality
settling into place like a crisp white bed sheet onto a mattress,
and i want to shudder at the memory
and make coffee and
squint and try to remember you,
but blissfully fail,
and only remember you when i see grey snow
or feel a Northern wind find a patch of skin on the small of my back,
and i want to feel the warm barrier of reality protect me from
the delusion of you

you were further behind on the Path
and you stopped to stare at daisies and i tugged at your hand because
you were slowing me down
and i tried to tell you about more important things that lay ahead,
but you were so **** distracted by the flowers,
and i was hurting your wrist,
and you got sick of it and found someone who wouldn't rush you

the day I see you again and
my mind turns into a  screen scrolling through a seemingly never-ending list of words I've written about you
and my tectonic plates shift to reveal a gaping valley
between the peaks of What I Felt For You and
How Ordinary You Are
and i'll feel an anticlimactic realization
and ill feel relieved
but also sad
and I will have nothing to write about anymore

you told me you'd **** me longer next time and
you told me you'd spend all day with me and
you told me you wanted to skip class just to stare at me and
you told me that you were afraid i'd judge you and
you told me i had a profound way with words (oh you should see me now) and
you told me i had an adorable body and
you told me my native language was gorgeous and
you told me i was your first and
you told me that you just wanted me for *** and
you told me you loved me and didn't want me just for *** and
you stopped telling me things and
then you told me you were back and
you told me it was because you wanted to be and
then you stopped telling me things again and
your mouth was still moving but you weren't saying anything anymore
so i pressed my finger to your lips and turned away and said
you can stop pretending now
you told me a lot of things
but you never showed me them

i don't want to go back to school unless
they found a way to remove
the fluids of a broken heart off of bathroom stalls,
unless they ****** all the air out of the building,
just in case i'll inhale a particle that you touched,
unless they removed 4 years of your
hot pink presence from the spotted tiles

we stood on the precipice
and it was a safe place between the white-hot, dry sand
and the omnipotent currents hidden beneath the breathing ocean,
and i grabbed your hand without thinking and i said let's swim,
let's do it,
what could go wrong,
if we both want this,
but you said no, there are Living Things in that water,
i said let's befriend them and you said
no,
we are powerless against the current,
and i said let's surrender to it and you said
No --
and you ****** your hand from my grasp but i held on until you told me that
you're not afraid,
you just hate the water