I can teach you how to be alone, yeah, how to be alone without feeling too lonely.
ya see if you get used to a twin sized bed, it's uncomfortable with more than one person in it.
easy.
and if you wear enough rings on each finger they start to feel like fingers themselves, in between your fingers, those bones.
the kind of bruises you can only receive after a long day of adventuring in the trees behind your neighborhood.
by yourself so when you fall on a pile of branches there's no one to laugh at you.
and if there's no one to laugh at you i'm there's no reason to be embarrassed.
yeah, and you can be quiet.
or you can speak without anyone watching how your mouth moves when you talk to the birds, or the dirt, or those branches.
and back at home there's only room for one more pair of shoes on the tray that catches the mud.
it's perfect.
you don't gotta confuse toothbrushes when there's only one on the sink, and you'll run out of shampoo a lot slower.
spend less money on groceries.
spend more money on you.
every shirt you want, get it.
you don't got no one to go home to.
no one to make breakfast for or sit next to while watching the sunrise.
no, it's just you and the world every day baby.
you and netflix.
you and everything but anyone else.
you, and you, and oh how you would love to focus on anything but you.
anyone but there ain't no one.
and you start to realize blankets make you less warm when you're under them by yourself.
but that's okay because you got hot chocolate, or chai, or coffee but you gotta make it for yourself and sometimes you're just too cold to warm yourself up.
and loneliness is chills.
straight shivers.
right down your neck.
your spine.
she's a bruise you can only get from exploring.
a full bottle of whiskey.
or on occasions one that's completely empty.
but you have a twin sized bed, yeah you don't have the room.
so you go on now and you tell loneliness,
to leave you alone.

inconsiderate enough to take my body like you planned on keeping it.
hollow cross necklace and nothing else.
you didn't save yourself for Jesus so you left me for religion.
asked if he would save you.
asked some holy being to take something twisted and fold it flat.
folded me in half.
folded everything we had and put it in a bag.
threw it in your hands when you came to my house a week later.
I was so surprised that you came to the door, I congratulated you for not acting childish for once.
I giggled like a kid when I shut the door.
giggled like the kids I dreamed of having with you.
they cried when you punched the wall.
I had to wake myself up.
you, anger issues.
me, trust issues.
you, inconsiderate.
you, belittled me.
6 foot 2, I'm 6 feet under you.
dead to you.
you're not dead to me.
I remember what you said to me.
we didn't have the same beliefs so how could you have faith in me?
faith in something you touched.
faith in something you kissed.
faith in something you broke.
something tangible.
something real.
if you can't pray to me, what's worth worshipping?
my name isn't in the bible, I'm unfamiliar to your mouth.
to your eyes.
tell that to every girl you talk to.
was I just a friend?
tell that to the kisses that you leave on their thighs.
my friends tried, but I never listened to anyone that pointed out the warning signs.
wasted so many months on so many moths instead of butterflies.
drained myself of all things just to give you everything.
I spent so many nights making you sound like a better person than you were.
you used to be better than you are.
I was too, but that was before you.
before the Sundays shoved down my throat with bread and wine.
before the Sunday nights of lust and hushed sighs.
before Wednesdays curled up with stories that would follow me home but I would not allow them inside.
these days, my communion is much more than one small cup of wine.
sometimes I sip bible verses in an attempt to forget you.
like you forgot me.
everything you promised.
like the words slipped your mind right as they slipped your tongue.
you slipped your hands in my hair like you were feeling it grow.
and I may not have the chance to go gray with you,
but your sins are still tucked into the creases in my fingertips.
the cracks in my lips.
and if I ever find a god to believe in,
I'll make sure to tell him all of this.

I'm still young and I'm still learning.
Still learning how to go 25 in a neighborhood.
don't wanna **** no body, don't wanna **** time.

I got places to be. still haven't learned the quickest way home, or the longest way for when you're in the passenger seat, because talking to you feels a lot like opening my front door and being greeted by the smell of a warm welcome.

I'm still learning how to decorate my room, but I've put the dead flowers in jars and I'm down to one floral pillowcase now so I guess you can call that progress.

I haven't quite discovered enough large words with large meaning or enough small words with large meaning or anything above, below, or in between.

I still burn my wet hair in my straightener since I don't have a clue how to manage time, still undercook pasta, and fill the blender too full.

can't get my eyebrows even the first time, but **** I'm not a miracle worker. I'm still learning.

trying to grasp the idea of being outgoing. trying to act like I totally didn't cry trying to order Wendy's chicken nuggets one time because normal people can talk to other normal people without feeling like someone's tuggin' at their throat.

still learning how to eat cheetos puffs without looking like I stuffed my hand into well, cheetos puffs.

I read up on government and politics but to be real I don't give a **** so we'll skip it.

I'm still learning how to trust, how to hold your hand tight enough, how to kiss you with enough force but not too much. how to look at you without showin' what i'm thinkin'. how to look at you when you look at me like you're about to say that you're in love with me.

I'm still learning how to love so you gotta **** some time. go 25 like I'm a neighborhood children are playing in. darling, let's take this slow.

I always thought it was strange when people bought their grave plots at a young age.
and then you bought us promise rings.

Being wrapped around your finger became literal when my name was engraved across the band that the bones in your hand were buried under.

It was strange to me, the thought of spending money on the bed where you will decay, but death is the only promise that cannot be broken.

So when you chose the metal that would hug my ring finger for the next 6 months, I trusted it.
How could I not?

I spent three months prior with an empty left hand and you hadn't left me yet, I was sure you were in it for the long haul.

You purchased our headstones, as if to say you wanted to live the rest of your life with me, and put your life to rest at the side of me.

I can't predict the future but I was dead set on forever with you.
I could envision it.

I never would have thought I would have drowned your headstone with fire.
I never would have guessed I would be picking at the skin that was hidden for so long.

Robbing my own grave.
My own bones just to see if I'm still here.
If I'm the ghost or if you are.

When you gave me a promise ring I never would have guessed that you were predicting our death.
My death.
And if I knew, I would have at least thought that you would leave flowers.

But you've already picked mine, which only makes me feel worse because I gave you EVERYTHING.

I gave you my body, and all you gave me was a place for it to decay.
You bought a place to put it knowing you would bury me one day.

And although I am 6 feet under ground, I'm the one praying that YOU rest in peace.

I would ⅆⅈⅇ all over again for you.

I've already purchased another plot.
I'VE ALREADY PURCHASED ANOTHER PLOT.

I've already engraved my name.

Now all I'm waiting for, is you.

I adore you
in a way that when we hold hands i feel like I am holding worms
i'm both in awe at what's happening, and disturbed.

I can't tell if the thought of kissing you makes my torso feel like a towel that's being wrung out, or if it makes me want to peel off all of my skin but either way, the thought makes me feel something.

your laugh is precious.
it spits confetti into the air,
it's the present you forgot to bring to the party, and the promise you make to bring it next time.
it spills all kinds of new anxieties onto the floor.

the kind of liquid that gets into the divots of your shoes, and when it dries it becomes sticky.
it's with you all day, peeling from the tile with every step.
this sound makes me cringe.

your hugs are so warm, if they were a blanket covering me i would have to stick my feet out to avoid overheating, but i need the blanket to sleep.

and darling, I promise it's not you.
don't blame yourself.
I was completely fine until he decided I was old news.

he made so many promises and broke them all.
If i could turn back to the moment I stood in the front of the room reciting a poem about killing my ex lover, I would have threatened that he would later be on my hit list as well.

I apologize for my uncontrollable fear.
I know my tremors are repetitive and I'm sorry for apologizing constantly.

he didn't accept me like you do.
he couldn't handle the ticks.
he couldn't manage to fall asleep next to a time bomb.
I shouldn't blame him but i definitely do.

so if i cry, pull me close.
if i shake, grab my hands.
and if i *****, hold my hair.
I promise that one day i'll trust you.

How to date a mormon when you're not mormon.
Step one; Refrain from using the phrase "oh my God" when around his parents because I swear to God, they will mention it at every family dinner.
Step two; Hold the polygamy jokes, he will not think it's funny.
Step three; Do not google what happens in the Temple...and when you do google what happens in the temple, don't try to do the sacred handshake with him...
Step four; Try not to compare his religion to a cult because.. ******* it, be respectful.
Step five; When he says that he respects you and your religious views, know that he's already planning your next trip to the temple.
Step six; when he takes you to the temple, remind him that you will never get to see the inside and when he tells you that the curb appeal is enough, know that he'll always be wanting more.
Step seven; When he decides to attend a mormon based school, realize that cost is not the only thing he's running from. And when you find out that the school requires him to spend time with a group of girls once a week, as "family home evening", trust that its only once a week.
Step eight; When he's forced into
The singles ward, remind him that it doesn't mean anything. And then convince yourself that it doesn't mean anything.
Step nine; When a girl answers his phone for the first time, tell yourself that curb appeal means nothing..Tell HIM that curb appeal means nothing. That walls are just walls, no matter how they're put together; that doors are just doors, no matter how they open and windows are just windows, no matter how blue. Tell him that curb appeal does not matter and he will listen to you...he will enter and he will explore every floor. Take notes on every room, leave fingerprints on every doorknob. He will make himself at home and wave to you from the inside and you will finally understand when he invites you in to show you a ring on the temples left hand..and you will tell him that he was right. A curb view is more than enough.