did you know that I cried on the way home from your house after our first kiss?
it was almost as if my body hadn't known warmth until your lips touched mine
as if my apathy was melted away by your touch
I don't ******* know much but I know about you
I know you hate how your hair curls up when it rains, but love the smell the rain leaves behind
and I know you don't like my sad music, but still kiss me when I sing to it
you hate going to your dads, and you like to be the little spoon
your lips part slowly, not fast
and every time you tell me we're going to eat healthy, you look at me with these eyes and I know we're not
when you cry your eyes get the brightest shade of green, and God I hate it but I love it at the same time
when you fall asleep you shake and twitch, but you don't like to believe it
youre good with your hands, and your lips, and your eyes
your heart monitor used to go off when we would make out outside your house
and you like that my head is cluttered, but sometimes you wish you could fix it
so maybe I don't know where we're going or remember where we've been but I know every inch of you like the boards on the dock we used to sneak out on
and I can love you better than any ******* who will ever think they have you figured out.

it's okay
even though you feel like the bones in your hands are breaking from holding onto everything for so long
and your head is aching from being wrapped around the things it shouldn't have to understand
it's normal
and don't worry about the bags under your eyes or how your ribs have been showing through your shirt
that's just a part of being a teen
your sleeping schedule doesn't matter as long as your school calendar is full
and who cares if you can't find it in you to smile, there's plenty of time for that after college
you'll be fine
and don't pay attention to that heart problem you've been having, you can't afford to miss first period again
how would it look if you failed comp 1?
don't forget to volunteer, but make sure you do your homework
give your all in class, give your all to your coach, give your all to your family, give your all to God, give your all to yourself
spread yourself out as far as possible, but make sure to hold everything in
you'll figure it out
because it's normal and okay and fine to **** yourself while setting yourself up for life
don't think about it too much
it's not that hard
just let go
but hold on
and change the world, but don't get too ahead of yourself
make the team, make the grades, make up work, make friends, make your life
but break yourself in the process

There is something beautiful about two sad people who agree to hurt each other.
Something comforting.
It is a comfort only very damaged people understand- the tacit agreement to cause pain, and to receive it.
Pleasure is for people who have what they want.
But for those of us who are starving, ours is best peppered with suffering.
Being with someone who understands that carries its own worth-
I don't want you to make me feel good.
I couldn't stand it if you did.
I don't want you to touch me gently, or ask if I'm alright, or stop to look into my eyes.
I am starving, and so are you: I want your teeth.
I want you to make me hurt. And I want to hurt you.
I want you to hurt me because I'm not him, and I want to hurt you because you're not her.
We want to see each other suffer because we are starving and we need to feel that someone else is.
Don't hold back. I want you to lower me because I'm too good for her.
Don't love me, don't caress me. Dig your nails in. Drip candlewax on my stomach.
One step down from torture is all I can stand in the way of human connection, when it isn't her.
Punish me for looking at her like a baleful puppy tonight, even as you waited in my room with your soft skin and your sharp teeth.
There is nothing you can do that will be too violent, too brutal, too sadistic.
I don't want to be loved right now.
I am too raw.
I want to be touched. I want to be ruined. Leave marks. Smear lipstick.
Lower me because I am
Too
****
Good for her.
Let this heart know on no uncertain terms that its needs don't matter.
Help me **** it. Help me pin my demons to the bed and make them writhe, and I will do the same for you.
Let's exorcise our loves tonight and banish them to hell.
Let's tell our skin that it is irrelevant.
Let's say "*******" to the things that bind us. I will cut your heart out for him.
I will kiss your scars, not to heal them but to remind you that when you put them there you fought for something, something we both fight for now.
Hurt me. Fight her. Do it for her.
Do it for her because I'm not good enough to hurt.
Do it for her because I'm TOO good to hurt.
Crush me.
You could boil me alive and it wouldn't make up for her, so at least leave me bruised.  
I will give you what you need, and you will give me what I need: not love, but contact.
Please,
Let my heart know on no uncertain terms that its needs
Don't
Matter.

There is something beautiful about two sad people who agree to hurt each other.

I take your mind to bed
Any opinion
You ever had,
Stark naked.

I start fondling
Your musings;
I envision
Your thoughts on my skin.

Your ideas enter me;
I feel myself
Tingling
From all the talking.

All my dreams flow
You, too, are close --
Baby, let me swallow
Any last word.

dating a writer
is like guessing the weather.
you think you know what you'll get,
but you never do.

you never know
because

she'll create a hero
from your weaknesses

and she'll write a great character,
from every last flaw.

she'll create a thousand plots  
from your worst nightmares.

she'll take every last thing you hate
and create something you'll love.

she'll turn your anger
into confessions of adoration,

and she'll make you,
everything you're not.

but worst of all,
she'll leave you wondering-
is it you she's in love with,
or things she's created from you?

but here's the beauty of it:

if you date a writer,
you'll never die.