When you love someone,
it isn't always pretty.
Sometimes it's two people, full
speed ahead and once the wreckage is left,
You can say "I loved this hard."
I still look at our wreckage and
think of all who were involved.
You think there were no casualties,
no victims but yourself.
I was a casualty and all the victims and bystanders
of my love for you
would call me crazy for picking at the shattered glass windows.
The car is totaled.
There is absolutely no chance of it running again,
and like a fool,
I think sitting in front of the wheel
is gonna make it run again.

I've written the "Never look back poem",
followed by the "Breaking free" poem,
and of course,
who could forget the ever so famous
"I loved, he lied" poem,
but **** it,
is it such a bad thing
that the words slip out of my pen,
when I see you sip your coffee?

do not date a girl
who writes.
she will internalize
everything,
carve poems
into your eyelashes
instead of
kissing them,

she will analyze you,
calculate age
from the rings
your coffee cup
leaves
instead of refilling it.

she will memorize
the way your
lips curl around steam,
but not that you
take it
two sugars,
no cream.

she will read your
palm instead of
holding it
against her chest.

she will not
blink
when you leave,
because she is
already
romanticizing it.

kissing boys with long hair
at parties that smelt like bad decisions,
and surviving on liquor so strong
that I would forget my own name,
simple to try and remove that awful taste
you left in my mouth.

Wake up numb. Put on

Your best outfit. Skip breakfast.

Go to school. Walk on

Through the hallway, fast.

Don't text him first.

Try to concentrate in class.



Walk through the hall. See

him. Avoid eye contact.

Walk faster. Try not to flee.

Smile and don't overeact.

Don't text him first.

Go home. Write three



Texts for him. Never send

them. Ignore hole

in chest. Lay in bed condemned

to feeling heartache. Attempt damage control.

Don't text him first.

Cry without end.



Take nap. Wake up for dinner.

Push around food. Hear phone ring.

Get excited. It's not him. Have inner

struggle. Ignore friend. Feel a sting.

Don't text him first.

Leave rest of your dinner.



Go to room. Spend night

on computer. Listen to sad love

songs. Watch mindless tv. Fight

with yourself. Win, kind of.

Don't text him first.

Turn off the light.



Stay awake. Finally

cry. Live the rejection again.

Feel eyes blink heavily.

Crawl into the familiar domain.

Don't text him first.

Fall asleep numbly.

My soul is a bird,
My body is a locked cage,
Where I don't belong.

I liked the way the bourbon on your lips
burned mine stop
I had to keep drinking stop

Sometimes I get drunk enough to
remember the smell of pomade,
the way the muscles in your back flow
across an anatomically perfect skeleton stop

I can hear you breathing through
your mouth, your heart
that always seemed to beat faster,
more sure than mine,
until it
stopped
altogether stop

Everything was
all together
until it
stopped stop