It's not you, it's the fact that I never knew that your father was supposed to heal the wounds not cause them until I was 14.
It's not you it's the fact that I remember the cut on my mom's eye after my father threw a lamp at her. I remember the tears she cried. And when I asked her where she hurt she pointed to her heart.
It's not you it's the day my sister became homeless because she couldn't work because she was severely harmed in a car accident.
It's not you, but when I saw my old lover hanging from the ceiling I decided that would be the last time I ever put my happiness into the hands of anyone else.
It's not you but I know how love can rip you apart and I don't know if I can ever forget that and let you in.

I drink enough water until I can drown all of you out of me
because its so unfair that I love this more than you.
I really I could forget you as easily as I want you to forget all the things I ever said.
You said you were scared of relationships but really you're scared of having anybody care about you.
I said "I know how you feel when nobody is watching."
I begged you to stay with tear stained collars and a broken glass.
I begged pretending I didn't know of all the lies you told, as if I believed your excused.
It might not be as bad as it seems but I can't stop taking sleeping pills to forget your name and the way it sounded when you laughed.

It's been months in recovery.
I haven't cried on my bathroom floor in 229 days.
229 days. I thought I was fine.
But this feeling comes over me and I find myself slipping back into missing you.
Why did you do this to me? And your mom? And your little brother?
It's 2 am and I can't sleep.
I just keep hoping that this alcohol will wash away all my memories of you before you ended you. Ended me. Ended us.
That coffee shop still remembers me by name and they used to ask me where you were or how you were doing.. I guess my eyes hitting the ground was enough to make them understand because they stopped asking.
I wish you could come back, just five minutes.
Even if those five minutes were just a broken record replaying you calling me a "selfish *****" the last time I saw you.
Am I selfish?
I guess so because I never said what you needed to hear.
I was never enough because my demons had more power over me than I did.
I could never get rid of them and you knew that and you stayed...well as long as you could.
John. Your name sounds like an apology and coming home at the same time.
I wish you would'be stayed longer John..

I feel like my poems have just become a list of complaints but how can I find the beauty in this storm?
No church has ever heard as many prayers as that hospital room that night.
Your life hung in the house like a crucifix or an old family photo.
HOW DID YOU EXPECT ME TO GET THROUGH THIS?????
Did you think your absence would make anything better?
It hurts.
It's killing me.
You left in paragraphs. You said I'd be fine.
But when you left you took me with you.
Now my bathroom floor knows more about me than I do.
Now I see you everywhere. In the halls, in your sister's eyes, our coffee shop. oh God that coffee shop.
Your presence still paints the walls there.
The coffee isn't strong enough anymore.
All I taste is you.

No amount of love that you give me will make me love myself and I'm so sorry for that.

A TYPE OF LOVE THAT MAKES ME TYPE IN ALL CAPS
A TYPE OF LOVE THAT MAKES ME FEEL LIKE AN ED SHEERAN SONG
A TYPE OF LOVE THAT HAS ME SINGING IN THE SHOWER AGAIN
A TYPE OF LOVE THAT I TALK ABOUT TOO MUCH
A TYPE OF LOVE THAT IS MORE THAN JUST BUTTERFLIES IN MY STOMACH