You say "I'm an open book",
But you're as closed as your eyes.
Trapped inside your sleepless slumber,
It came to me as no surprise.

maybe my biggest mistake
was never learning how
to regret you

You stab me in the back with a knife,
and I apologize for bleeding on it.

Don't ever fall in love with a poet
because they will indeed admire and watch your every move
they will write about how the pen marks on the side of your palm when you write
don't ever because they will trace
every single freckle you have on your face and
write about the color of each and every one of them and
describe how they smile so brightly under the sunlight
they will want you to want to know every little thing about them
even if it's just what hand they write with and want you
to be wondering why they write with that specific hand when in
reality it doesn't even matter

the poet will watch the way you dig
your eyes onto that book and your small quick remarks onto the 26 letters all crumpled together and will know that everyday at 5:28 p.m. you smile

they will look deeply into your eyes
to see if they can at least take a little
peak of your soul and they will write
about you like if you were the only
thing they see good in this world

they will want to know what you think
about when you look at them and
see if you also count each and
every freckle and hope and write  
that you do but they will
love you endlessly and they will
show you that they love you and only you

but don't date a poet if you aren't
capable to watch them and
admire their imperfections
when they sleep late at night
beside you.

j.f

I don't remember
how your lips taste,
I don't remember
how your hand felt in mine anymore
I hardly remember the sound of your voice
but i remember the way your smile lit up the room
how your laugh was the best sound i ever heard
how it flowed so perfectly
i remember the way you hugged me
the way time seemed to stop
how i felt when you said you missed me
and to be honest,
even if you forgot me,
I don't think i could ever completely forget you.

i care about you more than i should. there's no rational reason for me to; it's been long enough, with few enough words between us and small enough talk. we've dissolved into strangers, but to me you'll never be estranged; i think about you everyday, even when you should be the farthest thing from my mind. when i'm putting on my uniform for a school you never attended. when i'm driving down a road that you couldn't even name with a map. when i'm dissecting a cat, for christ's sake, committing an act so clinical it could be performed by a robot. i shouldn't feel anything, especially not for you. but i do. i still do.

it doesn't consume me the way it once did, thinking about you. you don't consume me the way you once did. i don't ache at the thought of you.

but still. there you are. you've made yourself comfortable in the back of my mind and something tells me you've no plans to leave.

and something tells me i'm okay with that.

you run across my mind
at the worse possible times,
when my lips are on his,
you make my heart ache.

And i cannot stomach to say i do not love you because i do, i do, i do.