Thinking it's over, but I'm too numb to cry,
Staring at nothing, leaving my worries behind.
Banishing fears so that I can design
A new hardened shell, an impenetrable mind.

If they can't get in, they can't pick apart
The vulnerable thoughts that connect to my heart.
They look from outside, watching my work of art.
They push off of me to get their head start.

I know how I work and I know who I am.
I have no agenda. I don't need a plan.
When my thoughts got clouded, my problems began.
I hate the word "love" and I don't give a ****.

I hate that they use me, corrupting my brain.
But I'm only human, and I can't complain.
With so much to lose and nothing to gain,
I'll show you a difference. I'll drive you insane.

I'll tell you, from inside my new hardened shell,
The emptiness I feel won't compare to your hell.
So I'll fade away like a bee in a cell.
Am I dead or alive? I doubt you can tell.

But I won't know the sadness of losing a love.
My mind isn't poisoned, a feat I'm proud of.
If you're looking for heartbreak, life gives you a shove.
The aching and suffering, I am devoid of.

She was magnificent.
She liked to hug.
Even when her arms were laden
With books and papers,
She’d drop them for me.
I remember her.
She liked to sing,
And do all the voices.
I’d sing along with her,
Sometimes,
In a quiet voice so she wouldn’t hear,
Because I **** at singing.
I remember…
The way she smelled.
The way it would cling to my jacket
And stay there for days.
Her scent became a drug.
Addictive.
She liked to lie in bed with me for hours on end.
There was no need for us to go anywhere.
We had all we needed,
Tangled in the white sheets with the peace signs,
Radiating heat.

She was magnificent!
Why did I have to lose her!?
I thought she loved me
Because I loved her.
Now that other girl gets her love when it’s
Rightfully mine.
I tried to hold on,
To keep her from getting lost,
When the whole time, she was screaming at me
To let go.

She is magnificent.
She doesn’t like to hug much anymore.
When her arms are laden with books or papers,
Or her girlfriend,
She’ll turn away.
I still **** at singing,
It just sounds like shrill screeching.
But I don’t sing, so no one can hear me.
I am nothing anymore.
I am her history.
A used-to-be.
I remember her.
I remember “I love you.”
She was beautiful.
Truly,
Truly
Beautiful.
She won’t let me tell her that anymore.

I recently went back to AJ’s
and bought two Charleston Chews,
a bottle of Moxie,
and a pack of Werther’s Originals.
You and I used to split our money
to buy that stuff, every time, the same thing.
Now, I’m sitting in the cemetery
by myself, in front of the faded
plastic flowers that we left for the
dead baby.
Miss Mary Mack echoes in my head, and
I take another sip of Moxie.

The wet copy of Charlotte’s Web is still stuck
to the floor of our clubhouse.
Nobody has been inside for five years.
All the sweat from that summer
drowned at the bottom of the mill pond,
along with our fish hooks.
Leeches stuck to our feet.
We hid in your crumbling house,
barely standing, we wrote our names
on the walls and read each other
Goosebumps.

I grew up with art and literacy.
You grew up with tubes in your stomach,
unstable families, the inability to shake off
the sadness.
A backup supply in your pocket,
in case of emergencies.
In and out, back and forth,
Sleeping bags and clammy
hospital sheets.