i showered until there were welts and i scrubbed my body until i bled but still the bruises remained and outlasted the sins of a wednesday night not quite forgotten but never forgiven
perhaps 2 beers too many and 2 phone calls too few
you know like i know that we were on borrowed time
i hope someday you find all my french fries and lost hair ties and think somewhat fondly of, if not me, the idea of who i used to be and could have been
maybe next time i will be able to stop history from repeating itself

let's talk about my self destructive tendencies over a nice glass of luke warm bud light
i don't think you deserved to meet my dog and i don't think i deserved any kindness after cheating on you so maybe we can call it even?
i'll send you a thank you card for the mediocre ****** that one time

i am taking a plane tomorrow
i will be 1,178.6 miles away from you and i hope i will feel safer
knowing exactly how far away we are from each other helps me to breathe a little easier
my mind is constantly focused on 212 and 222 and november 8th and 2015
i am hoping that new mileage will clear up some space
i am sorry for what happens next, "love"
this distance was a death sentence

oh my god she's in your kitchen in your parents house
does she know about the ghost of the cat that occupies the space in front of the oven?
does she know about the ghosts of us that roam the hall and the basement and your bedroom and the piano bench and the back porch and the shower and your driveway
god i don't miss the open doors but i would give anything to be alone with you in your parents house again
everything felt less real when you were two states and a train ride west of me
there's something about you being a potential 20 minute drive away that reminds me of my first suicide note
my second to last phone call from you was december 31, 2015 at 11:56 pm and i wish someone told me i would only see you again 2 more times following that
if only i had known that this would be the year i could swallow pills without any water maybe i would have kept my prescription

if i read/write one more ******* poem about bed sheets i am going to hang myself with mine

i guess it makes sense that one of our favorite bands would break up because everything we ever touched turned to dust in our hands

why can't i bury you like you must have buried me?

didn't you know we were supposed to burn the city to the ground?

i've had almost 2 years of radio silence and i can't tell if i just can't hear the music anymore