It is 7.30 and I am still thinking about the way our hands slotted together like days of the week, normalcy perspiring in the air behind us.
It is 7.31 and I am still thinking about your cheekbones, collarbones, hipbones. I am still thinking about your bones. You haven't returned my phone calls in a week.
It is 7.32 and I am still thinking about forest fires.
It is 7.33 and I am still thinking about clocks ticking and how it's kind of funny how we are always counting the days we have left, instead of the days we have.
It is 7.34 and I am still thinking about how my apologies never really cut it.
It is 7.35 and I am sorry.
It is 7.36 and I wonder how hard it is to tie a noose.
It is 7.37 and I am still thinking about the normal length of a pause when you're telling someone you love them, too.
It is 7.38 and I love you, too.
It is 7.39 and I am still trying not to think about how loud the doorbell echoes in the entrance hall now.
It is 7.40 and I am still thinking about the absence of stairways.
It is 7.41 and I am still thinking about hunger pains and alleyways and the warmth of your hand on my spine.
It is 7.42 and there are some things you can't say to other people but holy ****, I miss you.
It is 7.43 and I'm sorry again.
It is 7.44 and I am still thinking about short hands on clocks.
It is 7.45 and I am still imagining footfalls landing heavy on the carpet outside my bedroom and trying not to hope they're yours.
It is 7.46 and I hope they're yours.
It is 7.47 and I am still thinking about the glass in my ribcage digging in harder than your fingernails ever could.
It is 7.48 and I am still thinking about the way our hands slotted together.
It is 7.49 and I'm sorry again.

they were forceful,
tiring and painstaking.

they destroyed every
atom of me,
to the weakest and
most strongest days,
they were there.

they were my companion,
the one who i shared everything with.

they were tiny voices
that repeated the same
words and phrases,
drowning myself.

they weren't human,
they were **me

I'm in love.
I'm in love with the way grass smells after it's been mowed.
It has a certain smell that reminds me of summer days and childhood memories.

I'm in love with how that rain hits my window during a storm.
It's like it wants to come in so badly that tries to obliterate my window but only to realize that as soon as it hits the glass, the raindrop itself obliterates.

And I guess that's how I feel in love with you. You reminded me of summer nights and some childhood memories and I wanted to get into your heart so badly that I thought if I made myself fall you would catch me.

But, just like the raindrop, I obliterated on contact.

every night i shower and brush my teeth and shave and try to look cute in my boy-short ******* and big flannel shirt because every night i hope i'll sneak out to see him
but i don't
and i miss him
and my chest aches

your bones,

they protrude

at awkward angles,

where the veins meet your muscles.



the thick grey lines,

cast on your ivory skin,

like waves on the violent ocean surface,

the shadows from your bones.



from your collar bones,

to your ribcage,

to your hips,

to your thighs,

and to your ankles.



the lack in the amount of flesh,

the lack in the amount of muscle mass.



to me they were perfect.



your bones,

they were just

beautiful.

As I light this third one,
your face came up to my mind.

I suddenly wished that your love is like smoking.
When I desired to let in the smoke,
the addictive nicotine of your love
inside my pitiful tired airbags,
I could easily tell myself
to exhale the white
lung filtered ghost
out of my system,
out of my life.

But your love doesn't work that way.
Love is inking your name on my skin
deep through my bones (if it can).
Living in me, thousands of needle bites
In each second piercing through who i am
for the rest of my breathing years.
And through the pain, your name is complete.
Yet when you leave,

your name, your love,
will remain
in blank ink
on my young
cigarette-fumed
skin.

How do I fall asleep without you next to me?
How do I know that when the nightmares come I wont be swallowed whole.
And when the terror,
The shakes
And the self important universe descend upon my head that I can find safety in the hollow of your neck and the crook of your elbow.

it's raining and i can't help but
think about how funny it is that
even rain starts and stops and darling
last night i spent hours burning matches
that flickered and faded and left little
marks on my skin and everything
seems to come and go and believe me
i'm okay with that but you were the one
thing i was hoping would stay