I won't write about how many constellations I could form with your freckles or how there are an endless collection of galaxies hidden underneath your eyelids. you see, I fell in love with the way you drank your coffee and the way you would always wake up at 4 am just so you could watch the sun come up because you always found him so ******* beautiful; I still wish you had thought of me that way. I'm still trying to get over your laughter and the way your eyes shined so brightly I was convinced I would someday go blind. it's nearly been five months but you somehow always find your way into my poems no matter how they start out. this is my way of saying I miss you. I am not angry anymore, I simply wish I would stop writing so many poems about you because they won't ever bring you back. I stay up all night thinking of you. I don't even know where you are in this world but I do know I can't reach you. it seems the stars were not aligned in our favor. maybe we were not meant to be but I can't get myself to admit that because it hurts too much. I can't wash you out of my hair and I am not sure I want to.

Go on and
pull my ribs apart,
take out the contents
of my heart
rip it to shreds,
do it again.

And I'll watch you
tear me apart,
over and over
because that's when
I can feel something.

March 18, 2014, 5:34 PM

They say that all roads lead to home but who is they and if I knew I would tell them that home is not a place although I wish it was but if all roads do lead to home I have taken every road there is to get to you but there aren't any left to take and if I knew who they were I would ask them where to go when home no longer wants them when the place they went to feel whole again is now what tears them apart but home is not a place oh how I wish it was because home was his eyes the night he told you you are what keeps him sane home was his arms the night he held you when you cried because you were losing him home was his voice the night he assured you he wasn't going anywhere but oh home is not a place home is now his eyes when he tells you he has nothing left for you home is now his arms when he says he is sorry home is now his voice when he tells you he can not stay and if all roads do lead to home I was on my way but stopped when I saw the foreclosure sign on your front door

You're in my head. You're in my veins. When I get hurt I'm thinking of you and your hands and the way you shake your hair and the way you furrow your eyebrows.
I told you if I ever broke again I'd call you;
but what if it's three in the morning and I'm alone in a parking lot and I'm broken because I'm thinking of you. I picture you getting in your car with concern all over your face as you grip the steering wheel. And I don't know what you'd be thinking about on your way. But as I'm sitting on the cheap upholstery of my driver's seat,  with mascara waterfalls and stinging eyes, I'm wondering if I made the right choice.
And I realize just how big the world is tonight and how insignificant I am. And of all the people in the world; it's you I'm broken over.
I know just how crazy it seems to try to get over you in the dead of winter when my hands are frozen and how am I to get over you when you won't let me go?