i will wrap my hands around each of my organs and rip them out one by one. i will call it poetry and make you watch. i will blame you for the mess. when it rains, i will take you out to taste the thunder with me. we will dance until lightning strikes the ground around our feet. we won't stop until the flames kiss our skin. when you complain about the way your toes burn, i will convince you that this is called love, and you will whisper an apology into my lips. i will be thinking of metaphors when you touch me. and when the winds become too strong, when it is all screaming chimes and unhinged doors, i won't stay to clean up the mess. i will pack my things while you beg me not to go. all of my poems have sharp teeth and they are a warning that i do not do anything in a whisper. no. i am the type of person who comes in with a first aid kit. just in case you hurt yourself while loving me. just in case it almost kills you.

You were always too good to me. I was a hurricane, a nasty one too. I ripped your heart of its roots and flooded your soul with my absence; a tornado of emotions that destructed everything in my path and flash floods were always spilling down my cheeks. You kissed me everyday and told me you would never leave. Remember that one time you sat up with me on my bed all night and rubbed my back just because I was sad? I remember. Remember that one time you woke me up because you had made the perfect cup of tea and you thought I would like it? I remember. It's all the small, little memories that are my favorite. And even though we have both grown so different (i grew my hair out and you cut all of yours off) I still love you. I love you I love you I love you. I miss you, too. But I know you are busy and having a good time with your new friends so I'll leave you alone and take another drink of this whiskey that tastes like you.