Dear insert your name here.
I can hear you in his whispers; I feel your memory in his pulse when it beats against mine. Dear insert your name here; I have seen the private parts of your smile in his old photos and your heart break in the edges of his glare. I have felt your longing in his silent touch.
Dear, insert your name here, you may be nameless to me but I can see your tortured past whenever he refuses to tell another person his name. You have wrapped yourself so tightly next to his heart, in the cavities of his mouth I can still hear you screaming.
Dear. Clarice, please… I’d like to know.
Please tell me how you let up and let him go?

there's a lot in me that wants you closer
but more in me that doesn't care
there's a lot in me that wants you far away
more that wants my blood in your hair.
most of me
while we're being honest
claws at my own chest
and is broken at best.

A sleeping river freezes
The fire that is lit at her base goes out and she's left there.
The hot coals will melt in imprints on her skin.
The residue will surface and those who depend upon her for warmth and solidarity will perish as soon as her body relaxes.
But we are not a river, the cold air has repelled that thought, I am a woman with a burning body leaping from the building in attempt to quell the flame.
You sir, are the smoke that rises from her melted contorted corpse.
Because falling is easy, jumping too.
Landing is difficult, when there's no one there to catch you.

Do you know what I have just realized? Do you know what has just crossed my mind? I cannot have you.
Not like I'd like to, not like I want to. I can't have you because she does.
Which is fine, because you can't be mine.
I'm sad.
Which is okay.
I'm hurting.
Which I will get through.
For now I just need to write some poetry and draw and cry and hopefully soon.
I will wake up, and your voice won't choke me.
The memories won't ******* me.
I will get through this.
One.
Day.
At.
A.
Time.

If I could tell you one more thing.
It would be a simple confession.
Something that I didn't realize.
Until after I had heard it again.
I missed the sound of your voice.
Like it's a melody that cannot be undone..
Like it's a song that cannot be unsung.
I won't get any notes for this one.
Because it's not a poem.
It's a confession.
I miss the sound of your voice.
Whispering my name,
S E
I'm sorry.

i dont miss you like i used to. it's not there all the time

but when it is there i cannot sleep

he said i felt sad like someone feels sunburnt or frost bitten

like you had somehow smothered me and infected me with your touch

you truly are fire and I have melted beneath you.

I doubt I will freeze again but if it's all the same.

I don't think I want to.

I like you, like I think you’re cute, like I wanna kiss you, like I wanna go down on you… Wait, sorry.
Hey, I like you like, I think you’re pretty, like I want us to get along, hey! I really like this song wanna dance? I like your tight pants, I don’t mean to stare it’s just kind of there like Wow, sorry that came out wrong, Hey I’m Esther, nice to meet you, cute shoes. Who knew converse would create this kind of tension. Do you watch Dr Who? You hate Moffat? Me too.
I’m sorry this is supposed to be a love poem and I’m blabbering,
Hey! I like you, like I think  your finger tips are spider webs the way you pull me in, Andrew Garfield, spider man, have you seen that one? I’m a huge fan.
Hey, I like you, like I think you’re cute, like I wanna  take you out on dates and hold your hand in parking lots and line ups, like your laugh is contagious and your eyes are outrageously beautiful.

You’re pretty, smiling eyes and nervous laughter, not quite caught up in the moment.
I’d sing you a love song; I’d walk ten thousand miles. I catch my breath when your lips part to smile.
Your eyes sparkle when you see something you love; I wonder what it feels like to be the subject of your stares? The object of your affection.
So, I think you’re adorable; it’s deplorable how much I wanna kiss you.
Hey Tight jeans! Was that rude? Because I can be crude, and kind of mean, in the sense that I say what I think and a lot of people say I’m forward…
Take me out tonight; the stars are just bright enough for me to see your features, I’d paint pictures of your hands if mine would just stop shaking. I’m afraid,
because you’re just a little bit older and more bold than I’d have expected you to be, but you see it’s not written in the stars that we should be together, here I see in your eyes that you’re excited because you don’t realize this poem is about you, you idiot.
See what I mean, I’m not cautious. Torturous really I couldn’t stand to see you saddened, because  you’re beautiful which is trivial, I mean a man who looks like you must know this right?
Do you like romantic? I could say your eyes are waterfalls and your temples are the gaps in the sidewalks where puddles huddle.
I want to get to know you, I want to hold you while it’s raining, straining to keep my eyes on the movie we’re watching but your face in the half light is ignited
Your nose is the bookmark in the middle of my favourite story, marking the points before the hero has to leave and after he’s realized he can’t stay.
I can feel your heart beating from where we’re dancing, every inch of your body, I’d memorize, your curves and lines like you were my times tables and I wasn’t ever able to get those down so I might have to go over them a few more times before you’re committed to memory.
But now, in the blissful morning after sunrise, you lie.
sleepily kiss my forehead and mumble “I have class”
and I spend the last few seconds before you leave my room admiring your a-
… eyes.