you looked in the mirror
and saw someone else's eyes
hiding behind your own.

you felt shattered
when you saw him last
but you were stronger

like you'd been tempered
with distance and distraction
false answers in the stars

and you were the tree all along
branches just hearts strings
connecting you to sky
and you still weathered well.

She closed the door
On what could have been
Wiped the floor
Of what should have been
Cleared the shelves of our memories
Washing her hands
Of the eternity
That we had both promised.
She painted the walls, and decked the halls
With her new lovers pen
Changed the locks
So I couldn't see her again.
She wrote away our history
On a little post it note
And sent it in an envelope of
Divorce papers
She called in the painters and decorators
And started anew
Put to bed
All that we'd been through
And left me dangling
By a thread
Waiting for the phone to call
For any sign at all
That this wasn't true.
Waiting for the I love yous
That had warmed even the coldest of mornings
Better than any cup of coffee ever could
Waiting for the reassuring cuddles and kisses
That had made me feel so, so good.
Waiting
For
The one person who had always caught me, to catch me
As I fell
Head first into an abyss
Of late nights and stiff drinks
That she'd spent years, pouring down sinks.
But since she's been gone
I've picked up the bottle again
And it's began to throttle the pain.
So I drink down the past and remains in whiskey drops
Until the floor lures me
I lose sight of the clocks
And hit the decks.
If I was a pirate,
I'd make a mighty good ship mate
But as it is
I'm not and I'm late for work
And wearing odd socks
A shadow of the man I used to be.
And even my shadow doesn't recognise me.

There'd be no need to bleed
a pen of its ink
if only I had the ability 
to decipher what I think.

my eyes beg to be shut but my mind
has stapled them open. Poison oak
from two months ago now, burns
as my nails rip into it, soothe it.
The fan rumbles ever on, my feet down
from the mountain, my bruises
remarking subtly of my struggle.
I'd **** for a sleep spell, but I'm just
a ***** muggle. Huddled up with pillows as my cuddle buddy. For ****'s
sake, let me sleep, let me sleep, let me
sleep.........love me?

It's been raining a lot lately.
I still think about you
more than I probably should.

I guess some things don't change.
I guess some things do.

this is an open letter to anyone who has the audacity to try and love you like i did.

dear whateverthefuckyournameis,

i apologize in advance for spilling my boiled blood on the hem of your skirt. what you need to understand, is that you are standing on ground previously reserved for my feet, so forgive me for any bitterness that seeps through the cracks in my clenched fists. i don't hate you, but i can't be your friend. you probably don't know about me, and if you do, let me commend your bravery. i have a tendency to set my problems on fire, and in my bouts of anger everything looks flammable, especially girls with paper complexions. i'm sorry. i have never been one to walk away, so i don't know how to explain to you the holes in the bottoms of my shoes. but i have been further than you will ever go. this is not supposed to be an angry letter, but lately that's the only thing coming out of me. i don't even know your name but the thought of your hands reaching for him makes we want to break them. i will douse your dreams in gasoline and strike the match against your cheek. but i know that's not right, see, the poison crawling out from the end of my pen belongs to a scarier version of myself i try not to know. my heartache is an insatiable war cry in the dead of night, that will stop at nothing to shatter all your windows. it shames me to admit that i've found a sort of twisted satisfaction in using passive aggression to breach your armor. i am sick with missing a set of arms i was not privileged enough to know. i speak with all the grace of an atom bomb and wonder about the rubble at my feet. you are white picket fence and i am barbed wire. some girls are lions, some are lambs, and i learned to love, teeth bared and snarling. one of the only things that keeps me going is the hope that one day i'll learn how to love something without making it bleed. i may have never been his, but for a time he was mine, so please understand why i taste acid when i think about your mouth on his. again, i am sorry. i know it is not my place to be so full of resentment, but there is a part of me that sincerely hopes it bothers you to know he dreamt of me before you were even a thought. there is a side of me that thrives on the image of the color being drained from your face when you read this. but i am trying to learn how to be softer. this letter is the manifestation of a self-inflicted war that has been raging in my chest since he first told me about you. you will try to be good to him, and you might even succeed. if you ever find yourself singing him to sleep, like i did, don't ask if he wants to hear another song, just keep going until his breathing slows.

- m.f.

Stop trying to remember his scent, he smelled like summer and reminds you of the time he made you laugh so hard, you snorted out milk on that dead, hazy day.

2. Don't waste your day trying to decipher what colour his eyes were, it'll only remind you of the galaxies and constellations that you once saw in his eyes

3. Stop trying to retrace the shape of his mouth in the middle of the night, you'll choke on your tongue trying to taste the mint he devoured seconds before pulling you in for a kiss

4. Stop reliving the times you clasped hands together, the glass plate will fall off your trembling hands.

5. Burn this list, admit that the galaxies and constellations shining in his eyes were wilted, the one in yours are bursting with fire. Remember on the dead, hazy day his laugh sounded like nails running down a chalkboard. Remember when you kissed, the weeds growing from his mouth entangled the roses blooming in yours.

Realize that one day, another boy is going to come and plant daisies where he left behind thorns.

Nobody takes a photo
Of something they want to forget.