please for the love of god don’t let her in your bedroom and the kitchen floor and where your mom saw us share moments we would have loved to have not kept secret

it’s not you, it’s your situation
it’s not me, it’s my childhood tramua
tell me to ******* or tell me the truth
tell me about teeth sunk into unwilling flesh and how i was never a peach and i've always been the ******* sun

it’s been 365 days of laughing and crying and screaming and kissing and ******* and driving and running and outrunning and laying on the floor wondering if/when things are finally going to change
2019, do be kind to me

pulling my tired bones and muscles out a bed that seems too big for me now
in a room that once held laughter and love without terms and conditions
i don’t replace the light bulbs anymore and i don’t change the sheets as often as i should and the pile of laundry is suffocating me
i replay the night over and over in my head of you laughing and me spilling whiskey and bodies too close but too far for anything real

i can still hear the chorus of “will you let me in” like it’s my own heartbeat

let me know if i am being too cruel when i say “if we met now would we even recognize each other?”
years of shoving nicotine and alcohol down our throats and foreign mouths on ours amplify the passing of the short amount of time it really has been
it’s not like me to depend on a new substance but god the crackling of a 4 year old voicemail is like the throat hit of a lifetime
my joints still ache like that weekend in the city and i don’t know if i’ll ever stop hurting
i feel like we are fighting the inevitable and i am the only one who knows it
let me know if you get this smoke signal

we were waiting for the amtrak
we were going to stick it out
god i should have put you on mute because insensitivity and ******* senseless words have no place to rest on my shoulders
i’m not a 2:30 am drunken dare and, well, ******* for making me into one
“i am not a jealous man” and other ******* you let everyone else believe
i hope the next time i see you is your funeral

i’m glad the tour your band took in 2016 was successful and i hope you can still hear a crowd echoing your words
even though i was the only one who could hum them under my breath
ill take the next train out from hartford if you promise to meet me @ penn station
at least i see you in my dreams, love
they say that dreams are an alternate reality given we spend about 6 years in them
i don’t really know who “they” are but maybe they’re wrong  
and if dreams are all that i will have left of you i suppose i should take what i can get

i don’t want a fall wedding anymore
i don’t want kids anymore (i never really wanted them anyway but i would have flown to the moon if you only asked)
i don’t want to keep up with the band name list and i don’t want a whole state to be surrounded by metaphorical barbed wire but i guess that’s all i can be left with since the last three years have brought me no comfort and no closure