they say that the devil
is beautiful but so very
evil and i always
wondered how
something that looks
so pure could have
such a contaminated
soul
but i looked into your
eyes and dug my way
into your mind and i
realized that perhaps
the most precious
things have the
power to destroy
anything

I miss you. I'm not really sure how to breathe anymore without you here to remind me. lately my hands have been too numb to do anything other than write about you. I feel pathetic, really, because I'm sure you're off with her now and you're not even thinking of me. I feel ridiculous because I can't get you out of my head. you're making memories with someone new and soon enough I'll just be another face blurred in your mind but I don't want you to go. the thought of losing you makes me want to throw up; maybe I'm in denial because everyone knows I have already lost you.

The other day,
a man driving on the wrong side of the road
crashed into a pick up truck, killing himself instantly.
It reminds me of how you'll leave.
Lately, I've found myself drifting onto the left lane
and it makes me wonder about all of the people
that have died this way,
if they just couldn't tell their left from their right
or if they, too, were trying to go back to the past.

he covers you with his body and his hands like he wants you to disappear from the rest of the world. he says he wants to keep you all to himself, that he wants to be the only one to really see all of you but you think that maybe he just wants you to be invisible. he wants to make you small, to quiet you down and keep you hidden so that you don’t have the chance to be yourself. he doesn’t understand that you were born to be as big as a galaxy, that sometimes you think your soul is too big to fit inside your own body and sometimes you need to let it out. you think about making your way to a different planet, one that’s far away from him and those hands that restrict you but you’re so vehement; you’re not sure anyone will love you and your noisiness.

I've told myself that I don't miss you so many times, it feels like I'm starting to believe it. That's what they always tell you to do, right? "Fake it 'til you make it, baby."
I'm trying to be gentle with my words because I don't want this to be another angry poem. I've written far too many of those and they are always about you.
It's summer now and I'm loving you in raindrops. In swimming pools and stars. The thing is, I don't remember loving anyone but you.
Maybe this has gone on for far too long. It's been nine months and more than half of that time was spent waiting for you.
Waiting for your call, waiting for you to come back, waiting for you to love me half as much as I love you.
It has always been about what you want, and when it was most convenient for you. All of this has made me more vulnerable than I ever wanted to let myself be.
I remember someone once told me that love can be a form of self harm. I always loved hurting myself which would explain why i chose you.
Love is supposed to be gentle, and joyful, not full of sorrow and tears and pain.
Baby, it's always so dark when you are gone. I keep telling myself I won't let you do this, I won't let you leave and come back whenever you want to be reminded of us, but every time you do come back, I get caught up in the moment and the way you're so good with words and I'm under your spell again.
I can't function without you, but the feeling isn't mutual. I miss you the way I promised myself I wouldn't miss anyone. But I think I'm finally done waiting.

the cool of the winter
does nothing to keep us from panting
and sweating,
our bodies tangled in heated kisses.
the chill of his hands
and the warmth of my hips do not divide,
they multiply and i'm sure that if the sun
and the moon could come together
to make one noise,
it would sound like his voice.
you'd think the stars in the sky
would be brighter than his smile
but even sirius can't outshine him.
his eyes are filled
with planets
that have not yet been discovered
and stars that shine
ten times brighter than the sun;
his body is a galaxy
that i'm not scared to get lost in.

He won't tell you he loves you. He will not look at you like you're the universe or the sun or even the smallest star in the sky. He will not show up at your doorstep at two a.m. and he won't give up his seat for you and he won't make you mix tapes. But he will stay up talking to you, making you laugh and sigh when you're almost falling asleep. He will be thousands of miles away, but whenever you feel like your lungs are filling up with smoke and you forget how to breathe and your hands get sweaty, you'll think of him and feel okay again. You'll write poems about him that he will never read and he'll listen to your favorite band and tell you how much he hates their music. He'll show you new songs to listen to and you'll love all of them. A baby bird will die in your hands and you'll never stop thinking about it. This is how he will leave you. Two years later you'll still love him even when you're no longer lonely. You'll dream about his eyes and you'll find it hard to understand how he left before he was ever really yours to hold. You'll be okay without him but you won't be happy, and that little bird won't ever leave your mind. He'll never leave your mind. He probably won't think of you because he has someone new he can hold. Someone with brighter eyes and a wider smile and whenever she asks about you, he'll smile but he will only say, "all I remember is how much she loved this really ****** band."

i know it’s hard to come to terms with the way that men only love you when it’s convenient for them.
you attract people who are broken and you love them so deeply, you only wish you could pick up the pieces and put them back together with glitter glue.
you pour all of your love onto them like it’s nothing and they always swallow it whole.
you are very good at fixing them.
somehow your love gives them all the strength in the world until suddenly they are no longer broken.
they don’t need you anymore.
who’s going to fix you?

what if i told you i am tired of this unrequited love story? i never thought those were romantic.  you were once so fascinated by me. you always thought i was the most interesting, always thought i was worth picking out from the rest. your hands always felt gentle and soft against the endless pages of my mind and you were always excited, always waiting for the next plot twist. perhaps the imagery just wasn't real enough for you, the metaphors not as creative. maybe you decided that the characters inside were far too predictable. i keep thinking you'll come back and read between the lines and realize that i am truly worth rereading. but now even when you come back you aren't really here. i'm just another book on your bedside table, waiting to be picked up when you want to be reminded of what used to be.

IT TOOK ME SIXTEEN YEARS TO REALIZE THAT I DON'T NEED A BOY TO MAKE ME HAPPY FOR SO LONG I WAS CONVINCED THAT A PERFECT SOMEONE WOULD COME ALONG AND TELL ME I WAS STILL BEAUTIFUL DESPITE THE SCARS ON MY WRISTS BUT I NEVER TOOK THE TIME TO SEE THAT THE ONLY PERSON WHO NEEDS TO REMIND ME THAT IS ME I AM SO SICK OF BROKEN PROMISES FROM PRETTY BOYS WITH BLUE EYES AND BURNING LIPS THAT ARE ONLY EVER GOOD FOR KISSING SOME OTHER GIRL'S HIPS AND I'M TIRED OF CRYING BECAUSE MY BODY ISN'T GOOD ENOUGH FOR THEM I'M SO ******* SICK OF HATING THE PERSON I SEE IN THE MIRROR TODAY IS THE DAY I LOVE MYSELF FLAWS AND ALL TODAY IS THE DAY I SAY ******* TO ANYONE WHO HAS EVER MADE ME FEEL LESS THAN ENOUGH BECAUSE I DON'T NEED A BOY WHEN I ALREADY HAVE MYSELF

Change, for me, was always unexpected like how driving your family's station wagon into a brick wall at top speed might feel like;
like waking up one morning and stepping outside to realize that winter and the dark and cold and grey are finally here.
I shouldn't say that losing you came too fast because you were never mine to begin with. I don't know how else to say that your scent is the only one I want to wake up to but your smell is already fading from the sheets I sleep in.
My friends say I'm ridiculous for looking for you in so many places but I see you in everything. You always knew exactly what to say and when to say it.
Your words never gave me butterflies in my stomach, no, instead they were ******* fireworks. Shooting stars. I never minded being alone until you showed me what it was like to not be on my own.
Now, I can't stop thinking of how many things I was missing out on for so many years. This is to say I wish I had met you sooner.
I've captured all of our moments in a jar, and every night, I stare at it on my bedside table and think of you and the way you captured me.
But I'm so ******* scared that one day, this glass jar will shatter in my hands and I'll lose everything I've worked so hard to save.

i keep looking at the moon
and i wonder why i can’t reach her,
why when i hold out my hand
all i am met with is darkness.

i want the ocean
to swallow me whole.
maybe drowning
would be better than this.
maybe the waves
will fill the emptiness
inside my heart.

I've always hated the beach but I've been going every week and soaking myself in salt water because I keep thinking I'll see him on the other side of the ocean. I like to watch the blues and greens beneath me and imagine it's his eyes. I look up at the sky and envision his fingertips dancing on my back like droplets, his lips running along my shoulders. Sometimes I think I can swim to him, like maybe if I held out my hand far enough I could reach him.

you say his name out loud and you think you hear thunder but the sun is shining down on you like a spotlight. you remember the way his lips shone bright red and you think maybe this fire inside of you is only getting wilder. you think this aching feeling is only getting harder to compress and you don't know if you can stop your hands from shaking. you feel empty now that his fingertips aren't tracing paths along your collarbones and you wonder if you'll ever feel whole again.

sometimes
you swear you can feel his breath
against the back of your neck
and it drives you insane.
sometimes,
you think you're done dreaming
about him but you see him there,
back against your headboard
and it starts back again.
you bury yourself in men
who have the same colored eyes as him
and you drink shot after shot
in hopes of forgetting his name.
we both know you will end up
forgetting your own first.

What am I supposed
To do with these
Empty sheets and
Worn out dreams?

FIGHTING FOR MYSELF IS THE HARDEST THING I HAVE EVER HAD TO DO I SWEAR THE BLOOD RUNNING THROUGH MY VEINS IS BLUE AND HOW IS ANYONE SUPPOSED TO LOVE ME WHEN I CAN'T LOVE ME NO ONE WANTS A GIRL WITH SCARS NO ONE UNDERSTANDS THAT YOU DON'T NEED TO BE A SOLDIER TO GO TO WAR THERE ARE PLENTY OF BATTLEFIELDS INSIDE MY OWN HEAD SOME DAYS I CAN'T EVEN GET OUT OF BED LET ALONE LEAVE THE HOUSE THERE ARE FAR TOO MANY BLOODSTAINS ON MY BLOUSE

REMEMBER HOW IT FELT WHEN HE DUG HIS FINGERTIPS INTO YOUR HIPS UNTIL YOU COULD NO LONGER FEEL ANYTHING BUT HIS ROUGH TOUCH ON YOUR SKIN? HE WAS ALWAYS SUCH AN ADDICTIVE DRUG YO YOU. YOU COULD NEVER GET ENOUGH, KEPT GOING BACK FOR MORE. YOU WEREN'T EVEN ASHAMED OF IT. THE PROBLEM WITH THAT WAS THAT ONCE HE LEFT, YOU DIDNT KNOW HOW TO FUNCTION. YOU NEVER KNEW WHAT WITHDRAWAL FELT LIKE UNTIL HIM.

I wish I could say
it's not you anymore but
truth is I still miss you like hell
and I can't stop the way your name
rolls off of my tongue so perfectly
and familiarly because
you are all that I know
you are the smell of home
when I am lost and all alone
and it will always be you
*it will always be you

Sometimes
I look at the blues and purples and pinks
when the sun is setting
and I like to think of you under the warm light,
laughing and drawing circles on my thigh with your fingertips.
The image doesn’t always last
because I remember that you’re too far away
for me to even reach for your hand
and I guess it’s unrealistic of me to think
that I could ever touch a star
that shines even brighter than the sun
but you make me believe in things like that,
you make me think that I could hold out my hand
and watch the stars bounce against my fingertips.
Everything is beginning to look like you,
I’ve started drinking my coffee black
because it reminds me of your eyes,
I can’t stop thinking about
what your voice sounds like
when you’re half asleep
and still in the moment between dream and reality.
I can’t stop hearing your mumbled “I love you’s”
or your quiet laughter.
I was always told that ordinary people
do not experience extraordinary love,
but you are so extraordinarily beautiful
and you make me feel extraordinary.
I want to be your afternoon sunlight,
your midnight moon.
I’ve never been good at telling people I need them
but the world would be so lonely without you,
and I think I’d wait until the universe collapsed in on itself
if it meant I could hold your hand in mine
without worrying that it might slip away.

I had always been
the one pushing everyone away.
I had always been too scared
of my own feelings to ever truly
give into them.
I had always been the coward
but somehow with him,
I was the brave one.
I was willing to put
my fears aside for him
and I managed to ignore
all the loud voices in my head
until eventually they became quiet enough
to go unnoticed.
He was always picking his cigarettes
over me and I often wondered how
he could choose letting his lungs deteriorate
over someone who loved him
as much as I did.
He would yell at me when I asked him to quit
and when I got upset,
he'd hold me in his arms
and say that I would leave him eventually
but they never would.
He never truly saw just how much
I loved him.
He was so convinced
that I was too good for him,
that he was the darkness and I was the light.
"Baby," I'd tell him,
"I know that you believe your heart
is made of coal
but I have seen the truest parts of you
and I need you to know that there are
constellations hidden inside of you,
you've just gotta let those stars shine."
Some nights, he'd kiss my neck
and hold my hips so tightly
he'd leave bruises
but he always stopped himself mid-kiss
to tell me we could never work.
He said this so often
I eventually started to believe him.

How ironic is it the songs we fell in love with each other to now cause me to hurriedly switch the station in hopes of forgetting you? The chorus brings me back to the first time we kissed and it no longer causes my heart to flutter, instead my lungs fill with smoke and my fingertips burn, as if I've been touching too many stars but I know better because I haven't felt your skin in months, because you were the sun that made my whole world brighter. I can't listen to my favorite songs anymore because I remember how much you hated them and I remember you fell for the music you listened to almost as hard as I fell for you. I am turning the radio on full blast, listening to a song I can't remember the words to in hopes of stopping myself from trying to bring myself back to old times because I know that no matter how hard I try, I will never again experience the pleasure of hearing my name stumble carelessly past your lips. My hands won't shake when I hear your laughter because she's the one making you laugh now.