When I die, dear Mother
don't give my body away
to science.

I'd rather have it given away to poetry.

I want people to cut me open
and observe
how my bones were riddled with
melancholic verses of joyful pasts.

They have to see
the scarlet of my blood was the hue
I stole from the sunsets of
wishful thoughts.

Dear Mother,
give my body away
to the art of writing:
for they have to look past
everything they have ever learned.

They must know
of how much I loved and I lost,
and how that made the twine of my ribs
a story to tell.

Do you remember?
Do you remember the hurt little boy crying in the corner over the pieces of his broken heart?
I do.
Do you remember that little boy crying over the loss of his innocence?
I do.
Do you remember that little blue-eyed girl quietly arriving and listening to him cry, trying to comfort him with all of her might?
Of course you don't but you know what?
I do.

Do you remember?
Do you remember how quickly she fell in love with him and his adorable imperfections and obsessions?
I do.
Do you remember how he seemed happy again?
I do.
Do you remember them holding hands for the first time, she made the first move, both of their hands nervous and sweaty?
I do, every little detail.
Do you remember the first hug, the first kiss, the nervousness of meeting the parents, the first date?
Why would you?
But I do.
Every day. every hour, every minute
I remember.

How did I go from the heartbroken to the heartbreaker?
Every time I see a girl, I think I can take her.
Once you've been hurt so many times before, you refuse to be hurt anymore.

Are my player ways a reflection of my last?
Fell in love with someone, then you find out they're an ***.
Am I becoming my exes?
Already thinking about the next while I'm with my present?

I can't pinpoint my change.
It's kinda strange.
I did a complete 180,
because I never felt this way.

But does this make me a bad person?
Am I afraid of healing?
Maybe it's the fear of commitment that I'm feeling.

I can be so distant.
Not grow attached.
Back-to-back relationships,
I don't see nothing wrong with that.

I just don't get feelings.
Is it so wrong that I've become numb?
It's like I don't have any remorse for what I've done.

So..
Am I becoming my ex?
Am I a bad person?
Am I done healing?
Or..
Am I still hurting?

Stop trying to remember his scent, he smelled like summer and reminds you of the time he made you laugh so hard, you snorted out milk on that dead, hazy day.

2. Don't waste your day trying to decipher what colour his eyes were, it'll only remind you of the galaxies and constellations that you once saw in his eyes

3. Stop trying to retrace the shape of his mouth in the middle of the night, you'll choke on your tongue trying to taste the mint he devoured seconds before pulling you in for a kiss

4. Stop reliving the times you clasped hands together, the glass plate will fall off your trembling hands.

5. Burn this list, admit that the galaxies and constellations shining in his eyes were wilted, the one in yours are bursting with fire. Remember on the dead, hazy day his laugh sounded like nails running down a chalkboard. Remember when you kissed, the weeds growing from his mouth entangled the roses blooming in yours.

Realize that one day, another boy is going to come and plant daisies where he left behind thorns.

Sometimes he let his eyes rest on hers, it needn't have been painful,
but it strangely was.
He broke a lifetime of avoiding eye contact to show her.
She was worth overcoming obstacles for.

I opened the blinds.
I took a deep breath.
I reminded myself that I exist.
I let you go.

It was a routine morning.

Flowers die off so soon
They are beautiful at the
moment they were born
but when they
wither away into the ground
no one cares, no one cries
because flowers are so easily
replaced by another bouquet of plants
the petals will fall and that is their demise
I am a flower

I am the dust in your bedroom
the kind that falls from the sky and
tumbles through the light
streaming through your windows
I am only visible to you with the
light of the Earth
I will stay on your floor and
you will walk all over me and
never know anything of it
You will kick me up and
I will leave you

I am not the blanket that covers
you up at night and keeps you warm
I do not deserve such a title
I am not the roof that keeps you safe
from the ongoing snow and rain
that happens in this town
I am not your lover, your friend
I am nothing

I am a ghost, an apparition
a wisp of non-existence