If you want to save me please
let me go

i write them in my notes
keep them like postcards
i cannot bring myself to send
i want to tell you i'm sorry
because i am
i'm really sorry
i'm sorry
that was the best we could do
i'm sorry
that i asked too much of you
i'm sorry
i acted so selfish
i'm sorry
it has taken me so long
i'm sorry
i cannot bring myself to send
the **** postcard

Why do you leave,
When I lose everything?
Why do you get all the attention,
When I do all the work?
Why do I receive no credit,
When all you do is lie?
Why do you spread rumors,
When I was the one happy and alive?
Are you jealous of me?
What did I do wrong?
I’m trying my hardest to be loyal.
I’m doing my best to keep you.
See, my biggest flaw...
Became your secret weapon.

All I wanted was a friend.
And i’d do anything to keep you.
Even if it meant ruining myself.


You’re my friend.
And I’m supposed to put you first.
...right?

This is for you:

-the girl who is so ashamed because of her acne,
-the girl who cries in front of her mirror because she doesn’t
look like Picasso’s muse,
-the girl who forgot how to smile because of her problems,
-the girl who cries her eyes out every night because of him,
-the girl who is so terrified to attach because of her past relationship,
-the girl who is different from the others,
-the girl who wants to save every soul she meets, except hers,
-the girl whose heart, blood and soul runs wild,

-you are so much more than the sprinkles from your skin.
-you're not Picasso’s muse, but you definitely are God’s muse.
-don’t waste your life being so stressed, just enjoy the journey.
-you need to be strong.Cry your heart out, but stop,your tears are too worthy , make them rare, for the real ones.
-try to love yourself first, then someone else.
-your future is not defined by your past.
-you need to save yourself first.
-run with them, darling, and never look back.

This is for you, girls.
You, no matter what, are good enough.
You are lovable.
You are strong.
You are independent.
You are different.
You are rare.
You are you, and that is your power, learn how to use it.

When that specific person calls your name
and you hope it’s not actually you
That’s what wanting to forget feels like.

When they hand you pictures
taken in a different dimension
That’s what wanting to forget feels like.

When they randomly message you
over some stupid **** you said
That’s what wanting to forget feels like.

When you burn every note
that they ever wrote you
That’s what wanting to forget feels like.

When you tear down every picture
you two ever took together
That’s what wanting to forget feels like.

When you delete all of the posts
on snapchat, instagram, facebook
That’s what wanting to forget feels like.

When you unfollow them
on snapchat, instagram, facebook
That’s what wanting to forget feels like.

When you hate yourself
for still drinking and eating their favorite things
That’s what wanting to forget feels like.

When even though you’ve gone through all this trouble
they still somehow find themselves into your head,
then your conversations,
then your poetry,
That’s what wanting to
(but not being able to)
forget feels like.

when i flip through my notebook,
i see your name cluttered in its pages.
its scribbled in the margins,
scrawled in big bold letters,
and sometimes,
i can see where i’ve written half of it
before reality pulled me
out of my own head.
your eyes are drawn
in my sketchbooks,
your words are etched
in my heart.
and then,
there is nothing.
barren pages like dead forests,
filled with invisible words.
invisible words like ***** water,
trickling off of my paper.
the letters in your name
don’t haunt me anymore.
they don’t tangle their fingers
into my hair and pull at my thoughts.
your eyes don’t seem to
watch me,
no matter how long i look.
your words are still
etched into my heart,
like the carvings that cover
old oak trees,
but they no longer mean
the things they did,
my notebooks are filled again,
with all the colors of a sunrise
and all the sounds of an orchestra.
a thousand emotions bleed into
its snow-white pages,
staining them with a color
i’ve never seen before.
they’re filled with endless hours
of a dull pencil dragging
across a new page.
they’re filled with myself,
flipping through its papers,
as the sun creeps into the sky.
my notebooks are filled
with everything now,
but never again will they be filled,
with you.