i hope that time isnt linear
so i can stop wondering if we could just go back.

i would keep moving forward,
keep moving on,
and eventually,
she would bring me back to you.

if all i did wrong in this lifetime
was trust you,
you will send me to my grave happily.

and your halo can be seen on november nights before the car starts
when our breath is cold in the air
and, for a moment,
your words can be seen instead of felt.

when i look out the window,
i see a streetlight.

and the years will erode your anger

the image of me
that exists in your mind will soften

her edges will fade into you
and once more,
you will forget
where you stop,
and i begin.

i am in love with a boy
who makes me bleed honey,
and doesn't like his tea bitter.

i do not mind, though.
he will always kiss my wrists
before he slits them.

although the trains are not the same
i close my eyes and drift away
and when the trains blow on their horn
i almost feel i am at home.

when you exhale,
your breath nibbles my ear
and draws blood.
time drips like honey
and drags me backwards
the air is golden and heavy
and i am suffocating
i cannot breathe
i cannot breathe
i cannot breathe.

but for today,
i am still alive, alive, alive
and i will taste the honey
because it is sweet.

i am crying in the front seat
passenger to the roads i once called home
i ask if they have cut down the trees
and you say everything is the same,
but we both know that nothing ever is.

this is not the body of the boy i knew,
they found your body;
it wasnt you.

how were you supposed to know
you were my universe
when you were too busy
looking for the stars in someone else's eyes?

the gravity of two years pulls me towards you
the event horizon is your lips and we are crashing
through the point of no return

in the morning,
when you reach the singularity,
you will cease to exist,
and it will just be us.

tonight i will sleep with my windows open
and i will only lie with you when the bed is bare

i dream of november nights and broken cars
germany in march and the stars
the last time everything was okay.

i dream of red speakers and fairy lights
green walls after fights
and tuesdays.

i think it might be best
if we just stop
because we always do better
when we dont have to talk.

i cannot feel my legs
and my poems stay unread.
it takes two hours to loose myself
and a lifetime to find her again.

i look for her in dark bookstore hallways
fingers across the shelves,
picking up pieces of other people,
trying to reclaim the ones i gave away to you.

i shouldve known you wouldnt have remembered.
i shouldve known you would let me hang up.

we end our phone calls without i love you's,
yet you always say goodbye.

"you cant kiss this one better" i say
and you tell me you aren't trying to
then i get it
you're kissing me goodbye
telling me there is nothing to fix
and it becomes okay for me to kiss you back.

i would've said goodnight
and i see your ghost but
he does not keep me warm and
all 130 pounds of you are heavy and
dragging me down.

im crazy and youre an *******
and then we’re both sorry.

thank you for breaking my heart
because i have never written a poem
about how much i love you.

did you ever think of me
those nights we were apart?
and if i never crossed your mind,
could you've at least of used your heart?

im sorry i havent been better;
i promise you ive tried.
but no one seems to notice
the pain behind my eyes.

im sorry i keep crying,
i just dont know what to say.
my words would only be empty,
and you would turn away.

im sorry that i must leave so soon;
i really cannot stay.
i know that i seem fine,
but i am not okay.

im sorry that my time is up;
im ready to say goodbye.
i know this might be hard,
but i promise ill be fine.

im sorry for apologizing,
(its really all i know).
i promise that i love you,
but its time for me to go.

it takes two hours to loose myself
and a lifetime to find her again.

i look for her in dark bookstore alleys,
fingers across the shelves,
aware i am not the first
and will not be the last,
but for now i am your only.

a splinter catches my finger
and it reminds me that i can breathe.

i dream of november nights and broken cars
germany in march and the bars
in italy by the bay.

i dream of red speakers and fairy lights
green walls after fights
and tuesdays.

i could not tell if you did not know
or you did not care.
and i cannot decide
which is worse.

it is tuesday and
i love you.