open letter to the man i fell in love with two years ago: sometimes i cry myself to sleep thinking about the many ways i could say sorry. that i never had enough time to make up for the time that we lost, hating each other, for things that were not our fault. i never meant to cut pieces of your tongue off and cause you to lose control of your words. i will never have enough strength to apologize for the things that never were. you taught me how to love myself more than any other man could teach me and i ended up hating every little thing that had the ring of your name to it. sometimes i find myself feeding on little pieces of you that you rejected. they are the only things that keep me alive and love, i promise you that this heart i am giving to you has more defects than the ringworms and maggots that still infest yours. and i still could never love a thing more than i loved the thing that you were. sometimes i refrain myself from telling you the things i used to. you are still beautiful to me and baby i never loved you because of your looks. realize that you always meant a thing to me even though everyday you tore off more and more pieces of you that didn't make sense. darling i learned to pick up those pieces and form the walls of my heart and bandage the wounds that you managed to create BABY I AM CREATING MYSELF WITH THE VERY SAME THINGS YOU ARE USING TO DESTROY YOURSELF YET THERE STILL COULDN'T BE A MORE OF A YOU FOR ME TO LOVE. you remind me of a father, you wanted to stay but you left and i am sorry for being that stumbling block that kept you in the way but baby THANK ME FOR BEING THE ONLY REASON WHY YOU DIDN'T JUMP. i am sorry, for creating a monster out of the monsters you were trying to escape from. but now we're both trapped, and I'm sorry i never did anything to free us. but there's one thing you must never forget. i loved you. i did. i gave myself to you and im sorry i ruined a thing for the both of us but you never loved me. and that girl that you call your girlfriend, she's been there longer but baby i love you more. and i will love you more than she could ever lay eyes on you. i love you more than she could ever love you.
excuse the mess i made. i tend to bleed on things that don't know how to manage these cuts. my throat doesn't know how to stop slitting itself with the held back tears of an old woman who has loved too long.

I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. but I love you. I still love you.

i shouldn't have to clench my jaws when my feelings get hurt. my teeth are shattering at every fake smile i give when i have to look into your eyes and watch you look away. you touch my spine and you say 'have a good one'

i keep scraping my elbows for you.

band aids don't fix broken hearts. i peel them off but my wrists still bleed. i have a bad habit of scratching and scratching and reopening the cuts that you have made and trying to close them up trying to love myself.
how much of your life have you dedicated to leaving?

to the point where i rather have you than pass all my classes

you can't put a ring on it if my fingers are broken.
just because you like the idea of my hands doesn't mean your heart is attached also.
would you care if i broke my arms

i hope you rip your gloves again
i hope you cry over me

how are you doing without me?
how long do i have to be gone for you to finally miss me

i love and don't lie



you've become another story.

that day,
i wanted to break the glass in front you i wanted to scream in your face and beat your chest i was literally going crazy for you i walk out and i will never understand why you don't just understand that
'you can't break a girls heart and not expect her to go crazy about you'
why is time moving so slowly...

and i was wearing bandaids on my wrists and i peeled them off and put more on and peeled those off too and put gloves on and tore them and threw them away and put more gloves on and i couldn't stand and couldn't sit and couldn't keep working and couldn't...
the same song keeps replaying in my head.

i'm fine until i think about it. i hate you
you make me want to throw everything away

nice men don't cheat
and nice men don't lie

at nights i set my alarm to 3:30 to see if you will text back
it's 5:45
tuesday september 22, 8:30 a.m. i almost called you.
10:16
10:35
10:49
10:58
11:02
11:10
11:12
12:31
and then i lost track
i don't want to talk to you anymore


i haven't forgotten your birthday. i'm sorry for not memorizing your number.
i still have your pictures on my phone. i still get nauseous when i miss you
how could i let go of something so precious
i can still hear your accent.
i find myself saying the same things you used to tell me back when you still loved me the same song keeps replaying in my head
when i think of you my body hurts.



she only likes me cause we're not together
tell her i knew before you knew

sometimes i never want to see you again
i hurt you by leaving.



here's to pay your bills:


i'll forget about you one day. i promised i wouldn't

'text me when you make it home safely'



now i don't dress when i get home from work
now i sleep with my guitar
i wear my hair different

this is the closure we never had
from today on, every angel i will ever come to know will have a memory of you attached to it.

it takes two weeks for my wounds to heal. by the time i am done with this, it would have been two weeks. and this won't hurt anymore. and i will stop bleeding. and the cuts on my wrists will finally close. you were not a bandaid. you could never be a bandaid. i am sorry you couldn't close the same wounds you caused. i am sorry that it is hard to swallow. and i am sorry for apologizing for things you haven't done.
by the time you get this i would have listened to your voicemail 33 times
i do this for revenge
and i will never say goodbye


this poem is not incomplete. i just like to leave you uneasy. have a great life.


p.s. everything that i have written in here has been subject to what i felt at the moment. please do not think that i hate you.

p.s.s. it took me days to write this and i love you

p.s.s.s i wanted to get you a watch today

p.s.s.s.s you don't wear watches

p.s.s.s.s.s happy birthday



i love you

i love you

actually, my mother never told me about boys like you. she never said anything about boys at all. all i knew is that i had to be careful around them. she never told me that their "i love yous" are just words and not metaphors they see in your eyes. she never told me that them kissing you is just to **** your soul out and leave you dry. empty. desolate. and she sure as hell never told me that their hugs are only so they could play checkers on your spine. you see, some of us have allowed others to come in through the front and out through the back and well, your heart is the front door and you're so distorted they backslide out the same way they came in. he should've said good morning and never good night. he should've never sat down, he broke the chairs. you see, you're just standing on ice and your problems weigh too ******* much. you should've told him that seat wasn't for him. you should've told him it's been used and used and used and now it's worn out. you should have warned him that you haven't been taking care of yourself lately and the books you've collected throughout the years are filled with pollen. you should have told him that the footprints on the floors aren't of those who have fallen in love with you but rather have come in and walked all over you. when you introduced him to your mother, you should have noticed that no he wasn't smiling, he was smirking. and also, you should have noticed that your mother wasn't trembling because she was happy for you but rather because she feared for you. when you walked off with him, you should have n,oticed when he started rubbing your back and he never ******* held your hand. you should've noticed when you were aching in bed, you were actually dreaming about yourself. you're aching now aren't you. AREN'T YOU. my mother never warned me about boys like those. she never told me that they come inside you and play hopscotch on the bed sheets. you should've noticed the first time he told you he loves like a playground. you should've noticed when he said he loves playing "Don't Step On The White Tiles." you should've noticed when he told you he spent his lifetime playing board games. oh what does your heart print look like now?

you walk inside my house and you sit on my kitchen floor and you ask me 'where have you been all these years?' i tell you i have been ripping out my hair, taking out fingerprints of past lovers and i tell you that you cannot stay here. that the floor he is sitting on is fragile and it will break when he tries to stand up. i tell him that handprints aren't beautiful. and neither are the sound of footprints. i tell him that hands were made to touch things, and feel things, but they were never taught to heal things. he begins to touch me and the floor cracks a little bit and he tells me 'why don't you sit here for a while?' i tell him that my skin is as delicate as a flower and the moment he lays another finger on me my petals will fall and i will wither faster than he can say 'come back. i am so sorry'. 'no. you cannot stay here' my hair begins to fall and a couple of strands land on his head and he doesn't notice. i say 'steven you cannot stay here' he insists 'no steven you cannot stay here'
well what do you want me to do
i want you to leave
but
no steven get out
I THOUGHT YOU TOLD ME YOU WERE FRAGILE. the minute i step out of here this house will fall and it will fall with rage like an avalanche that knows no mercy another traffic challenge with a child stuck inside. no i am not leaving. this floor will not prevent from breaking WHY DON'T YOU SIT HERE AWHILE.
he begins to touch me again 'DON'T TOUCH ME I SAID THE MINUTE YOU LAY HANDS ON ME DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND YOU WILL LEAVE HANDPRINTS THAT DON'T WASH OFF MEMORIES THAT DON'T FADE BROKEN BOTTLES OF LIQUOR THAT NEVER CLEAN THEMSELVES DIDNT I TELL YOU HANDPRINTS WEREN'T BEAUTIFUL.
well let me love y
NO. get out. get out steven. i don't love you anymore. get out of my house
you will br
i don't care. get out.

I am so sick of holding on to things that have no grip that slip out of my fingertips like dust like when you told me your back doesn't bend sideways and you swore my hands were your favorite thing. and I believed you. because you have a way of saying things that seem like they will last forever but they always end up fading away like your whispers .. or your touch. and you swore to me that my voice was the only thing that kept you apart when your spine was the only thing holding you together you should've told me you felt like snapping like twigs in a forest dry and brittle because they have nothing holding on to them giving them life and baby you should've never told me that you are dead. that you've been dead for years now and you've given me a piece of you to hold on to baby you should've told me you are a ghost.

My bride, allow me to proclaim my love as I undress you on this evening of moons and honey,

You are my absolute treasure. I am eternally fond of your gift, enclosed within your royal case. May I kiss you, gently? I would kiss you again and again and again, each kiss like the last. You are my fire. Yet, how calm feels the curve of your chin, gently supporting your warm mirage.
How I’ve craved the scent of your neck; daring, enticing, rewarding. Every article, every depression, every depth of your spine, I count as they burn through my fingertips. If I could only reach inside and examine you with the fullness of my hands. Your ribs, my lady, when God gave Eve Adam’s, He gave you mine. My ribs and my heart reside within you. I’d kiss every bone and every *****.

Come to the bed I’ve prepared for us.

You lay, exposed; your curvatures as ***** as mountains; firm yet delicate, earthly yet heavenly, humanly yet godly.
The summits on your mountaintops tear through my passions and bleed into my manhood. What pleases you? Can you sing for me? May I remove your underwear? The white lace, gently pressed between my teeth falls, revealing a dancing pearly rose. Her fragrance demanded one millon butterfly kisses. My lovely, tasty bride, keep flowing for me. I yearn for your honey. I treasure your garden of unspeakable fruits.

The secret ingredient …[the bird sings.. and sings… and sings…] …. is love.

Oh my love, my costly gold treasure, I want to know you, to learn you, to nourish you, feed you, to feel you, … to plant my seed in you and to explore every corner inside you. Every corner that makes you vulnerable. Every corner that makes you weak. Every corner that makes you pleasure. The skies will envy the milk we make. I love you. Know that I am yours forever and I belong to you. May this night ever be imbedded in the memories of our sworn covenant. May the vulnerabilities of your womanhood ever spill their warm secrets. May your moistened cave being relief to the pressure of my manhood. May they learn of each other; how my lips learn of your lips, and how my body learns of yours.

“I am yours and you are mine” we whisper.

You are the never ending taste of sweet valentine. You are sweeter than molasses from your toes to your head, from your fingers to mine, from my fist into your cave. Would you care to spare more of your lovely juices?
My obedient wife, I will elevate you. I will explore your ridges until I draw you a map with my eyes closed. I will lead us to the Circle of Full Moons. And when we arrive, we shall seal our love with a milky kiss from your watered flowers.

— Slev 1.20.22