last time I wrote about being homesick I was writing because you finally made me feel at peace but now I know that was just an illusion you created because you knew how badly I wanted a home.
I feel as if I will always be searching for something, anything, to take the intense emptiness away. I don't know when or where I left the pieces of me that make me whole but I was so sure you had picked them up on your journey to finding me. if home is truly where the heart is then my home is little places in each person I've given it too.
I think my biggest problem is I'm stuck searching for somebody to be my home instead of searching for who I really am. I just don't know how to want to find myself. if I knew where or why I left myself behind I would probably ignore it.
my whole life I've had this sense of wanderlust and I was so sure you cured me. I can't seem to understand where it is I need to be. I have no idea where my home is. I feel as if I was put here to find my place in this world but I took the wrong path and decided to find some body to be my place.
this path has lead me to be evicted from home after home until I've lost count of how many people have promised me forever and then decided this house was too crowded. I'm terrified that even if I found my self, my place, my meaning, I would be too much and yet again be evicted, left empty.

let's get drunk and tell eachother everything we're afraid to say sober. and by that I mean you sit and listen to everything I'm angry about. if your voice mail was set up it would probably be full of venom. id like to repeat to you every lie you ever told me over and over again until you're sobbing. remember when you told me I was the last girl for you? that's my favourite. sometimes I read the letter you sent to me and I can't help but laugh. thanks for proving "just because they said I love you first doesn't mean they'll love you last" is true. what's it like realizing you let the best thing that ever happen to you go? I hope you're happy settling for second best. remember that time you chose drugs over me? I can't keep count. I'd like to pretend that you really care how I'm doing but I get the feeling we both know it's not true. remember that time I told you to run if you were going to leave because it was now or never? you told me the same thing; your now must have been more extended than mine. sometimes it comforts me to know we live under the same sky, then I think about the time you told me you would box the sky up for me if you could. how does it feel to know I can't see a sunset without cringing?

They diagnosed me with
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder,
and Anxiety Disorder,
less than three months before I told you
I wanted to **** myself.
That was four years ago.

Sometimes, when there's
a moment of silence in my head,
quite like the pause in words when
you've realized you said too much,
I think I should of followed through when you had asked me to.
I think there would be a lot less
heartache for every body I touched
but couldn't love.
I fear that you'll be hidden below their skin,
waiting for me to fall in love again.

Speaking of skin, it's been almost three years
since you last touched mine.
Every July I still scrub a little harder in the shower,
somehow believing that I will forget you again.
You haven't touched me since
the 13th of December back in 2012,
but it feels like your fingertips are still crawling up my skin.

You've fallen in love again, and I can't
hold a steady relationship for more than a few months.
Maybe that's because
I still kiss boys that remind me of you.
Maybe that's because
I still hear you saying
"I never even loved you,"
long after I've forgotten the sound of your voice.

I sometimes catch the gym teacher
looking at me the same way
one would look at their siblings like
"I won't tell if you won't."
I don't mean this to sound questionable, in fact,
he gives me that look when I become distressed, like a mutual
"we don't have to talk about it, just know I know."
He gave me that same look in 2012,
when I threatened to leave you,
when you grabbed my arms and
told me not to walk away from you.
Your grip made me flinch,
and I think back then it was as unnerving
for him as it is for me to realize
I haven't gotten better in the past four years.

right now there are eleven empty containers of alcohol in my bedroom,
but it's fine, i'm fine.
i've been telling myself for more than a year
that i wasn't going to write anymore sad ****** poems about you,
but here we are.
most days i'm sure i don't miss you,
but then i listen to the wrong song,
and before i know it -
i'm screaming along to band of horses in the dark,
stalking your twitter favorites,
and somehow,
i've managed to get snot on my forehead.
yeah, nostalgia is an *******
but not all the memories sting.
there was that one time we went to the movies
and i slipped on some ice and fell flat on my ***.
i just sat there while you took a picture.
but i'm glad we could laugh about it.
i'm glad we were comfortable.
in my head, we still are.
in my head, we're oversized-goodwill-sweater comfortable.
we aren't as comfortable in real life
but i'm glad we still laugh.
this is the part where i don't bring up the time you told me
my laughter could cure your sadness,
because i'm pretty sure i already put that in another poem,
and it makes me really ******* sad.
did i ever tell you i used to play guitar and piano?
i loved them, but i never tried very hard.
i wanted to be good without having to practice.
i wanted to be good without having to practice.
i wanna meet the girl you write about
so i can ask her how she manages not to love you back.
because i've tried everything & i am so tired.
i forgot this wasn't supposed to be a sad poem.
i'm not good at happy anyway,
i never have been.
but in your absence i've learned a lot about softness.
so if i ever find myself back in your passenger seat,
i won't correct you when you sing the wrong lyrics,
i won't ask why when you take the long way home.
i won't ask you why you don't have your seatbelt on,
i'll just say a silent prayer
and watch for signs that you might be about to swerve.
right now there are eleven empty containers of alcohol in my bedroom,
and i didn't find you at the bottom of a single one.

- m.f.

Promises I need you to make me (and her):
1. promise you will never call her princess; for both of our sakes.
2. promise you will never make her wonder if you're going to come home. always find your way home at the end of the night.
3. promise you will tell her you love her, every day, every time you think it, say it.
4. promise you will never put anything before her: drugs, friends, work, Airforce. don't make her feel like she's your second choice.
5. promise you will remind her daily how happy she makes you. if you find yourself miserable more than happy, promise you will leave; for both of your sakes.
6. promise she will know she's beautiful. daily, hourly, remind her. scream it from the rooftops. make her feel like the most beautiful girl in the world, I know you're capable of doing it.
7. promise you will tell her you love her in front of your mom, every time. and in front of hers.
8. Promise you will remember her birthday, it's so important. remember your anniversary, remember her moms birthday. but most importantly, remember hers, please.
9. Promise you will let her in. I know it's hard when you're hurting, but she loves you. promise not to push her away, confide in her, do not close yourself off. she can tell when something's wrong, let her in.
10. promise you will love her. love her more than anything, love her with every bone in your body, make her the happiest girl in the world. I know you're capable of making someone so happy they forget they hate themselves, make sure you do that. but more importantly, let her love you. you deserve it.

i miss you so much it hurts my whole body.
do you remember when we talked about going to seattle?
you said you liked the rain
and the fact that no one there would know you,
i just wanted to be wherever you were.
i was never afraid of the dark
when you talked about yours.
i still don't have words for what i felt
when you told me the only other number
you had saved in your phone apart from your mother's was mine.
i keep telling myself you're not allowed
to just exit and re-enter my life as you please,
but i leave the door unlocked,
so what does that make me?
the last "i love you" from the last time we spoke,
is still stuck to the roof of my mouth.
other lovers have tried to pry it out of me,
but the memory of you is like lockjaw.
i miss you so much it hurts my whole body.
do you remember the lizard you caught last summer?
you let me name him forrest.
if life is a box of chocolates,
there are pieces missing,
and whatever is left has gone stale.
i can't smoke cigarettes in my backyard anymore
without wondering where you are
or if you're smoking too.
i hope you're not drinking,
i know you hate what it does to you.
your secrets are still tucked between my ribs,
i will hold them safe and repeat them back to you
if you ever lose your way home.
i miss you so much it hurts my whole body.
do you remember when you told me
about the person you were afraid of becoming,
i said i wasn't scared,
and i told you i was proud of you?
i'm still proud of you.
i hope you're in school or at least keeping busy.
i hope you still make yourself laugh.
i miss you so much it hurts my whole body.
do you remember what movie we were watching
the night you got arrested?
i still can't finish it.
i am holding the place.
can we pick up where we left off?
can we stand up and wipe the dust off?
i never got to tell you why i only write in pen,
or why i can't sleep with socks on,
or about the day i caught god with his hands in a public fountain
fishing for change.
i'm not mad at you for disappearing, but i'm lonely.
the only reason i haven't called
is because i'm afraid of being sent straight to voicemail,
but if i ever find myself in indiana again,
you'll be the first to know.

- m.f.

I guess it's my fault.
I started a family with your fear of commitment.
I fell in love with your "maybe's".
I ignored the way you closed your eyes as you spilled sweet lullabies from your mouth.
I created a future with you following behind instead of tagging along.
I guess it's my fault.
I fell in love with a man only capable of feeding off lust.
I attached myself to a person who was more of a season than a human.
I let myself think that just because I heard the words "I love you", I was loved.
I fell in love, with someone incapable of loving me back.
I'm sorry I'm so angry at you when it is really my fault.