the last time i allowed myself
to cry over you,
to hurt because of you,
was when things ended,
when the cuts were fresh
and the blood hadn’t clotted
that’s it.
you can’t rub salt in a scab.
my wounds have healed.
you didn’t leave me broken,
you left me numb
which is just as dangerous.
stop dredging up the past
digging up graves at 2 am
you and your friends,
the tomb raiders.
there’s nothing there
but scattered remains
and dust.
i hope you know,
that april 5, 1 am
was the last time i gave a ****.

You want me to wait on you?
Is that it?
You want me to wait on you to make a decision
While I cave in on myself?
While I self destruct?
How long will it take?
Eternity?
Don’t ask me to do that.
Because you know I will.
Send love my way and let me go.
Let me ride my wave of sadness until I reach its shore.
And let me forget you.

It's 2 am
And my vision is blurry
And the cars outside sound like waves.
And as I sit on the white tiled floor of my bathroom.
I can't remember
If I love you
Or if I'm lonely.

Words slide off your tongue
And across my body
Like honey.
You tell me
I taste sweet
And my voice sounds like poetry.
I arch my back
And let the heat consume me
As you drive me to madness.

Your words tasted like cough syrup.
Sickeningly sweet
Hard to swallow
Artificial
A temporary fix

my tea is bitter.
and my thoughts are destructive.
as i lay here reading mediocre poetry about love,
i can feel the distinctive prickling of tears behind my eyes.
tonight is not a good night

I don't hate you. you're as beatiful as a sunrise and your laugh drips with honey and you're everything I've ever wanted to be. but I hate you all the same. because you prance around with your pair of scissors, cutting boys hearts like paper airplanes, snipping them clean in half as they fall out of the sky. you took the boy I've loved from afar for all these years and wrapped him around your finger, tying his heart into a bow. I think it's to remind you of something you lost. I know you'll hurt him, just like you've hurt the others. and when you do, I won't be able to comfort him. he doesn't know me, he doesn't want me to help pick his heart up off the ground. and if, one day, he ever loves me the way I love him, it'll be a broken love. because he never could get over what you did to him. he will never be completely the same. and I hate you for that.