word of your alleged affiliations reached me weeks after it was all said and done; she was now queen of your world and I became a mild sore in your side like I feared I would

I don't know why I'm surprised. I never amounted to much anyway. I often let my feet burn in the running bath water just to feel something besides a building wall of anxiety in my chest.

I often dreamt about you. also about her - that walking prayer with a Devil's torch. I could've handled my tears if it weren't for the coffee shop you two were admiring in my dreams. do you remember my favorite place?

a nightmare is a dream until it becomes your reality. sometimes when I wake in a cold sweat complete with tremors, the breeze still smells of expresso and pastry

here's how it happens
the morning after
you reach into the drawer
where the your t-shirts live
to find it austere
you'll shrug because
you're still drunk
& you can't remember
when last it was
that you had something wet
or how long it's been
since you made the floorboards blush
or why the carpet is upset
who wouldn't be
the contents to the upended ashtray
strewn around the apartment
resemble the aftermath
of the smallest war
to ever take place in norfolk
some midnight thief
must've made off with the lighter
because it isn't in
any of your favorite spots
maybe you chucked it
along with a hundred other things
that make noise when they land
in the neighbors yard
you won't remember putting
the refrigerator's belongings
in the bathtub
or scrawling a buzzard
on the bedroom door
but then again who would
you'll pretend it's spring again
before putting on your winter coat
to go out front with a cigarette
in your mouth
you'll hope for a passing stranger
to *** a light from
or drag yourself to the corner
with couch cushion change
to buy a new lighter
and on your way
you won't bother looking back
this is just another day
on eggshells for no reason
another november
choking on birthday candles
on your way home
you step over beer cans
the kind you fell in love with
and wonder who
had the last laugh last night
or if anyone said a word at all
it might've been another
moment of clarity
it might have been some idiot savant
any adjective that feels like home
anything that keeps you thirsty

It's a song of pain and of sadness that often comes hand in hand with love; its beat is faltering and ever-changing, matching the pounding in my head and the ringing in my ears. Sometimes I hear your voice, and the way you said you'd regretted almost every part of me is the temporary melody of this new tune. The undertones are constituted of tear drops falling from tear soaked eyelashes, a sound ever so faint but if you'd ever see it happen, it's like an amp overload. I'd like to compare you to myself and put you in this new song - but you're the reason for my hate tonight, and for that, the show will not go on.

The ink in your pen froze from the ice stirring in her heart and now I'm beginning to ask myself if that's why everything you write to me feels like frostbite on my tongue

There's going to be times where you pull at your hair and gather tears in your palms

and times you'll wish it was daisies and ink instead

but Honey - you'll be okay tonight

Dear Future Child,
You'll soon learn that 'sorry' is my favorite word. But don't fret if this trait is passed along to you. Some day it'll be 9pm and you'll be crying about a boy upstairs in your room while your parents are downstairs clueless, but I'm telling you know it does not have to be that way. Do not reach for a bottle of liquor, or for a cigarette or a weapon. Your pain will pass because I will have raised you to do so. Dear Future Child, I will not let you end up like me.

I'M SUPPOSED TO BE THE GOOD GIRL THAT EVERYONE LOVES BUT IM NOT AS INNOCENT AS THEY ALL THINK AND ITS BEGINNING TO PROVE DIFFICULT TO HIDE MY PAST AND IM EMBARRASSED. EVERYTHING I DID WAS AGAINST MY BETTER JUDGEMENT AND I JUST WANT TO SAY IM SORRY