How ironic is it the songs we fell in love with each other to now cause me to hurriedly switch the station in hopes of forgetting you? The chorus brings me back to the first time we kissed and it no longer causes my heart to flutter, instead my lungs fill with smoke and my fingertips burn, as if I've been touching too many stars but I know better because I haven't felt your skin in months, because you were the sun that made my whole world brighter. I can't listen to my favorite songs anymore because I remember how much you hated them and I remember you fell for the music you listened to almost as hard as I fell for you. I am turning the radio on full blast, listening to a song I can't remember the words to in hopes of stopping myself from trying to bring myself back to old times because I know that no matter how hard I try, I will never again experience the pleasure of hearing my name stumble carelessly past your lips. My hands won't shake when I hear your laughter because she's the one making you laugh now.

Her lips tasted like mint and raspberries and her eyes were wild like the sea on a stormy day and her hands were always shaking but somehow her voice still sounded like wind chimes. The way their hands held onto each other tightly wasn't something to mess with. He was always hurting her but she always felt too weak to walk away from all of the love and happiness that came along with the pain. He stayed up late talking to her and she felt special even though she knew she wasn't the only one he would do that for. He knew how torn up her heart was but he wouldn't admit to all the red stains on his fingertips. He told her she did this to herself and she screamed, "LOOK AT ALL OF THIS BLOOD. LOOK AT MY CHEST. LOOK AT YOUR HANDS."

Today he's in love with the girl
whose eyes shine brighter than any star,
and he'll spend all his days dreaming of her.
Tomorrow it'll be the same
but just like the stars in the sky
she's too far away for him to reach.
Someone once told me
long distance relationships are hard
and I guess that's why God stays so far away.
He stays up way too late speaking to her
and when he wakes up far too early
the first thing he does is close his eyes again,
only to imagine what it would feel like
to run his fingers along her soft skin.
Every night,
he looks at how the stars are twinkling
and he's reminded of her.
He wishes he could hold her
but even if he was able to reach her,
everyone knows that the stars burn your fingertips.

He doesn't like the taste of black coffee
but he swears he could drown in her eyes.
He hates mornings
because there aren't any stars to look up at
but her smile shines just as brightly.
The sound of birds chirping
makes him want to scream,
but her voice sounds like wind chimes
and he wouldn't mind waking up early
if it means he'll get to listen to it.

The other day,
a man driving on the wrong side of the road
crashed into a pick up truck, killing himself instantly.
It reminds me of how you'll leave.
Lately, I've found myself drifting onto the left lane
and it makes me wonder about all of the people
that have died this way,
if they just couldn't tell their left from their right
or if they, too, were trying to go back to the past.

i can't stop thinking of your hands. everything is spilling through the cracks of my fingers like hourglass sand. i can't take control of anything, it's no wonder i've always hated driving. the words on the page are starting to blur and i can't seem to get my eyes to focus because all they can see is your name. this year in psychology i learned that we choose what we want to listen to, that we shut out everything that doesn't seem important to us and it makes sense now that i don't hear anything unless it rhymes with your name.

I can't help it that sometimes I smile at car crashes.
It reminds me of how he'll leave.
When he looks at me, my hands feel like burning matches.

His smile looks like lightning flashes,
I keep thinking the electric shock might help my heart start to beat.
I can't help it that sometimes I smile at car crashes

Our story will soon be only ashes,
I guess I need to stop wearing my heart on my sleeve.
When he looks at me, my hands feel like burning matches.

Tell me why my hands keep shaking like avalanches,
he can't see that he only makes me bleed.
I can't help it that sometimes I smile at car crashes.

I keep thinking he only took my heart to cache it,
this isn't something that I can grieve.
When he looks at me, my hands feel like burning matches.

His shirt is stiff with blood splashes,
he's looking at his hands like this is something he can't believe.
I can't help it that sometimes I smile at car crashes.
When he looks at me, my hands feel like burning matches.

I've been waiting for him to come back for an entire year, holding onto the hope that maybe he's looking at the same stars as me and maybe he's listening to that song that reminds him of me but nothing numbs the pain of him leaving. He's falling in love with a new girl every night and even though it will always be him for me he's going to keep moving on until eventually I'll be just another spot in his memory, a blur hidden in his past and I've tried my hardest to move on. I keep wishing someone else would break my heart but I guess I forgot that he took my heart with him when he left. I speak to any man with the same accent as him like maybe it'll keep the memory of him here...I don't want him to disappear. maybe he's forgotten all about me but I'll never forget the first time he said he loved me like it was something he was unsure of like he was scared of it and I was scared too, because there was nothing more beautiful than the way his eyes lit up every time he smiled or the way he walked like he was taking up too much space while at the same time taking up no space. every time I come close to loving anyone else I am reminded of the day he told me to wait for him and the truth is I forgot my own name when I learned his and I think I would wait until the universe collapsed in on itself if it meant I could hear his voice once again.

the only time you dream about her anymore is when you’ve drank so much you swear you can see her name at the bottom of the bottle and suddenly you’re punching your fist through the dry wall and calling out for her like maybe she’ll answer like maybe that’ll bring her back. it kind of makes you think that dreams aren’t random because you wake up thinking you can still smell her on your sheets and your chest caves in and you think maybe the part where she comes back isn’t the dream, maybe the dream is the part where she ever left in the first place. you keep looking at your hands and you can’t remember how to keep them from shaking because she always did it for you and now they aren’t shaking because you’re nervous but because her smile won’t leave your mind and every time that song comes on you have to turn it down otherwise you’ll hear her laughter again and this time you don’t think you’ll be able to survive the pain. you walk down the street and you think you can see her curly hair and her pale skin but you remember she’s gone she’s gone she’s gone but she’s never really gone because you can still taste her on your tongue every time you drink whiskey or red wine or anything, really it’s like you can’t remember anything but her. you can taste her on your lips like she’s still here with you but your fantasies are always ruined by the memory of her leaving and your arms feel empty even though she was gone before she was ever really yours to hold and you ask yourself why you can’t read books anymore you tell yourself it’s not because your eyes only see her name it’s not because every word on the page reminds you of her tell yourself the reason you don’t write anymore isn’t because all you can ever write anymore is her name stop remembering the way she held onto your hips so tightly like she was scared you were going to fly away and maybe you were but you always wanted to fly away with her but she was too fragile and the wind took her away you tried so hard to hold onto her you tried you did you did you did