there were things of you
that saved me
and things of you
that broke me
but it was the architecture
of your bones
that ended me
over
and over

I am not ready for commitment, or to know
that I am loved, loved in a way
that will lead to spilling of brains
and hearts out of ribcages
opened weak, vulnerable
resulting in hurt and tears

I am not enough at peace with my heart
nor my ability to trust and open up
to have such a permanent placement in my life
I want red lipstick smeared on wine glasses
filled with ***** and whiskey
late nights in warm rooms, too warm
with something funny to smoke
to feel slightly relieved when the boy I kissed
for 3 hours last night, knew I meant nothing to him
as he meant nothing to me
I am not prepared to part
with the "one night only" lovers
and the fun that comes
with being young

to be free, to stay free
a soul that is not ready to be locked away
in exchange of an open cage
for a brittle heart that cracks
under the slightest pressure

if my eyes were never meant to see the world
at 6 am, as the sun is rising, and my blood is pumping through my veins
so fast, I feel lightening could be replacing my cells

and if my lips were never supposed to meet yours,
on nights alone, with a lot of fumbling, and suppressed giggles
between words that were worse left unsaid

and if my ears were not placed upon my person, to hear the way
you laugh as I tell you stories, or to listen to you whispering weakened
'I love you's at 3 am

then tell me why I was born unto this Earth at all?

sometimes i wish i had people to talk to
about what goes on inside my head
but then i remember i’m overtly content
with living inside my own mind
without the need for interruptions
caused by other human beings,

because i’ve come to learn
through the experiences of others
that when you let people in
you are letting them drag you down
with the weight of their being
on top of your own

I haven't moved on, I haven't moved on
I'm still stuck on you and I never even knew you
I never felt your hand in mine and it's still the only thing I need
I never knew the way your breath warmed the crevices in my neck
and I still wish to know how your lips would feel
pressed to mine, at 3 am when your touch is the only thing
I desire deeply enough to deny myself sleep
I don't know what you meant when you said you couldn't tell me
I didn't understand, and it's been nearly a year,
but I still don't
and sometimes when I look at the grass, and in the sky
and at the bottom of a bottle of cheap *****
I think of you
and I think of how you left
and I think of how much I still can't comprehend
and I had no closure
and you didn't care
no closure
no closure
no means of explanation
just a body that I never knew
and a pair of hands that float in thin air
and arms that will not hold me in 5 years
when I'm still unstable thanks to my first love

he thinks that i have found you
when my eyes meet his

he thinks i have fallen in love with you
when i tell him
i'm falling

he thinks he meets your eyes
when he looks at himself
in the mirror
smiling
looking over his shoulder at me
pretending to be sleeping

he thinks i hold your hand
when i am holding his
and that you kiss it
in the moment he presses his lips
to my skin

how do i tell him
that he isn't you
the one with ink staining his fingertips
holding me
his books
torn
underlined paragraphs
falling apart
on my lap

how do i tell him
that the butterflies i have
when i see him
are for him
but not for you

how do i tell him
that his love
beautiful
is not mine
and the heart
he thinks
i hold
is the one i slipped back into his chest
while he was sleeping..

maybe I should be a nun
or date that boy in orchestra
or adopt more cats
because anything would be better than
spending my free time learning love songs on guitar
so i can melt your heart if need be
and constantly dreaming about you
and being crushed every waking minute.