she told me that this is what it was like to be a firestorm,and i believed her.youre not golden sweetheart,
none of us are.we're not meant to look nice.
this is for our eyes only.dont look me in the eyes
and pretend that you dont know what i mean
take me to the cathedral pour holy water over my shivering shaking bones
build a baby grand out of my corpse,honey,its the only one ive got.
dont pretend you dont feel it too
and even if ill never be as romantic as you,at least ill try
at least i wont leave you here
gasoline on pavement,dying the only way you know how
they told me i could be anything i wanted so i turned myself into a gun,
hollow like your stomach when all youve had to eat the past three days is stale ******* bread.
dont look at me like that.
i know all of your secrets and youre the one still forgetting about my jaw,the one you broke.
i see it in your eyes.we both know how this ends
but I wont pull the trigger on heartbreak hills
not until theres more whiskey than broomsticks beating us ******
cigarette **** wrists against a concrete wall,you always were one for a metaphor werent you?
jesus,babe you look so beautiful in this light.would you let me take your picture with the old kodak we pretend doesnt exist?
im sorry if this is forward of me,but i think id like it if you dug bruises
into my throat
loving the only way you know how,and this isnt the kind of love you see in movies
cause its not really love when neither of you can stop chainsmoking for a ******* second
to look at the way the sun glints off hair at just the right time.
maybe if i had sinners hips youd kiss me,just the way i like
too much,all at once.this,you say,
this is what its like to be a firestorm.
we tell people we're just close friends,like in the way real people are close friends,
we tell people that the bruises on both our mouths are just from the red wine,silly,isnt it obvious?
the train station is too crowded.im fidgety
and the woman in the dress sitting next to me is reading a newspaper article about string theory
i wonder if it tells her about the way i sewed my mouth shut one winter
(or maybe that was you.whatever.its the same ******* thing anyway,isnt it,you say.stop ******* smiling at me like that.you know its not funny)
i wonder if she knows that the needle does not have to be very sharp to pierce the skin.
lesson one:stop pretending that youre the dragon.
lesson two:god.god.god youre ******* annoying.cant you keep your ******* mouth shut?i told you not to tell anyone,you ******* *******.if you show up outside my house again ill **** you.
dont leave someone voicemails after they leave you for the subway station. they will not reply.
this is normal.
you called me a narcissistic ***** and i think you were right but at least i think im worth something,right?at least i havent given up on my collarbones,thrown
them away like they're ******* trash.but what i mean to say is,
at least im not like you.at least i dont have a scar on my upper lip.
stop telling me that the ******* is a ******* metaphor,
this isnt a novel and im not a vampire
and last time i checked your eyes were brown,not black.youre not a monster so stop trying to be one.
the woman sitting next to me on the airplane wont stop reciting bible verses but i dont feel any more holy than i did three hours ago.
this isnt a ******* contest.you cant compete with someone to be the most ****** up,god whats wrong with you
havent you read about cain and abel
this will end the only way it possibly can
stop hanging grave markers on walls,cant you see the marks on your fingers
this isnt a ballad for a dead man and i dont mean to be condescending
but i like the way you kiss people,ten days after the time of death
and maybe ive left you too many voicemails at three in the morning
and maybe i stained your pillowcase with whiskey and secrets
but listen up,honey,you need me more than i need you
dont lie to me,you know its true
youre lying down at the bottom of the gymnasium swimming pool
and somehow youve managed to find comfort in it
dear reader:im sorry.im sorry about the mixtapes,okay,you were never supposed to find them and-and ****,ive messed everything up.bye.see you soon,
i guess.

god,
ive never seen a girl that empty.
pathetic,
hollow skin in unwashed jeans.a blown egg,
empty casket
cracking sidewalk.im lonely but i can play the part,
bravado biting the sky like lightning but
you can hear your own breath echoing in me when
you sit too close.
im a mine shaft, im stale air and stone. i dug myself empty when i tried to believe
i need no one but myself.i don't need anyone else.blisters on my heels,
thoughts on self-defeat, self-pity,
self-immolation compared to arson.
when you pulled out all my teeth you told me it was so i could kiss you fuller,
deeper; you said *now you dont have to be afraid.
now you cant hurt me.
it rained last night but i thought this was a drought year, should i feel something?
i slept through the thunder.GOD, i hate thinking about this,
i hate these harness ribs hate air pockets in my chest i cant take this pressure.
when youre leaning down to kiss his lighter i'm sending you 50 texts that all say the same thing,
accoutrements of disorientation,
swollen fingers. i dont think i'm doing this right.i think i'm a different person
every time i get dressed in the morning,
every time i sleep.all the words ive misheard  stack up like unfinished manuscripts,
like letters from neglected friends.
this was wrong when it started and now it's just confused.
hoarding matches, hoarding lighters like that'll save me from the rain.
think about the bones beneath your flesh.think about the sturdy rock within your soft thighs.
think about your liver.think about your bloodyourskinyourmeat.
think about the last time you spoke with feeling.
think about the last time you dreamt. remember when you said you wanted all of me? said you felt afraid,
you said sometimes you feel like
i could eat you alive,
reaching over my event horizon,
leaning towards antimatter lips.
why did you call yourself a storm you're only hurting yourself?
why did you call me an earthquake when i'm the only one
im ripping apart.
you keep sticking your tongue down the throats of people who just want to bite it off.

i. you broke both my legs and i'm still trying to walk. you ripped concertos from the back of my throat and said,
"look how beautiful you are."

ii. you don't have a nice smile. you smile like it's hurting you, like it's tearing you apart from the inside and you choke out words like stakes digging into my back, saying,
"then again, you did seem heaven sent."

iii. you sing church hymns with your whole self, your body pulsating with the force of it. you look at me when you sing, narrow your eyes as you kiss me, singing amazing grace like it actually meant something to you.

iv. you're biblical. you kiss my fingers and hiss holy words into the spaces between them, recite verses when we go to sleep at night, whispering,
"i don't have much faith left for messiahs, but i'm pretty sure you could be one."

v. i hate you and i don't know why. actually, that's wrong. i hate you because you never really died, did you, you're still here, imprinted across every surface in my house did you know that having an eidetic memory means i will never be able to forget you?

vi. you shattered my jaw and took the remains with you, painting a mural in different shades of red, saying,
"sweetheart, this is how you look best."

vii. you told me once that vampires are just vengeful angels and i don't know if i still believe that. i don't know if i ever believed that. i don't know what you believe when you tell me,
"look at the mess you've made."

viii. i wonder how long i've been faithless, or faithful. whatever you want to call it, sweetheart, when you say,
"you could have been all this, love, and more."

His lips on my lips,
And his hands on my hips,
I'd say it was wrong,
But it feels like it fits,
Like it's right,
It feels nice,
And I enjoy him so much.
And he'd be great as my friend,
But he's so perfect to touch.
And I want him,
I crave him,
I think he is fine.
I would tell him so,
But he's not even mine.

What happened to,
"Instead I sit here,
Blushing bright red,
Letting sweet words,
Rush to my head"?
It dried.
It twisted and died,
And fell from the sky.
There are no sweet words,
When he can't meet your eyes,
And if he does,
You think you may cry,
Or throw up,
Or faint,
Because you're pushed to the brink,
And can't stand to think,
Of that thing.
The one who ruins 16 year old girls,
With promises of marriage,
And happiness,
And love,
Yet does not deliver,
Just tortures,
And twists,
Your mind to fit his,
And slowly warps your soul to his will,
And oh so surely takes morals away,
From even the most convicted ones.
That is what happened to me,
I no longer sit here,
Blushing bright red,
Now I sit in the corner,
Holding my head,
And rocking,
And crying,
And gasping for breath.
That is what happened to blushing bright red,
That's why sweet words don't rush to my head.

step 1: de·ni·al
noun
the action of declaring something to be untrue.
i thought about sending you an email today.
i got through four drafts before i quit.
i haven't talked to you in three months. i haven't deleted your messages in three months. i haven't stopped thinking about you in three months. my heart is still synced with yours. it stopped beating 131,487 minutes ago. please leave a message after the beep.

step 2: an·ger
noun
a strong feeling of annoyance, displeasure, or hostility.
i'm glad you're gone. you were a house but you were never a home for me. i've moved three times since i left.
you shoved your fingers down my throat and left me retching in the snow, excuses tripping on their way out of your cherry bitten lips.
you made me your slaughterhouse, blood on my hands and heart.
i am made of too many things, a conglomeration the size of a galaxy, thirty people sewn into my skin. there is a hole in my chest the size of your fist. please leave a message after the beep.

step 3: bar·gain
verb
negotiate the terms and conditions of a transaction.
(maybe if i had loved you a little less you would have learned to love me back)

step 4: de·pres·sion
noun
severe despondency and dejection, typically felt over a period of time and accompanied by feelings of hopelessness and inadequacy.
i spent more time thinking about you than i ever did about myself. i'm not sure if this is selfish or selfless and i'm not sure if i know the difference. i hung up on you once and you didn't speak to me for a week and i'm not sure if this is love or hatred and i'm not sure if i know the difference. i haven't spoken to you in seven months. please leave a message after the beep.

step 5: ac·cept·ance
noun
agreement with or belief in an idea, opinion, or explanation.**
you told me that acceptance was the same as tolerance.
i don't think i believe you.
i haven't spoken to you in twelve months.
please leave a message after the beep.

Your bright blue eyes gaze up at me,
and I can tell I'm all you see,
I just can't help but hold you close,
it's my maternal instinct,
I suppose.