i remember all the times
i made you say goodbye
to me a little longer
just in case i never
got to say goodbye again.
i didn't know the last time
we said goodbye,
was going to be the last
time i would ever see you.
i didn't know this until you
ended our relationship
over the phone the next day.
i've just about come to terms
with it all now that it's
been months.
but i still wonder if all the
extra minutes i made you
stay and hold me
until you left
accounted for the time
i never actually got to
say goodbye to you.

the most frustrating thing
when it comes to a writer
is when everything
every word, every letter,
isn't enough to give justice to
the captivating picture of you
in the afternoon:

soaked in sweat,
grinning foolishly,
striking up a conversation
about coffee,
and how unhealthy it is
for me to drink
three cups straight,
to stay awake,

yet the bittersweet taste
stains my lips.

it spills down my throat,
covers my lungs,
and drowns them
with the addicting aroma
of coffee beans
and lazy dreams,
until i cannot seem
to breathe,

and the only thing
i can ever do
is to spill ink
for you.

Would you kindly
hug me tight
with your hands
around my neck?
Would you kindly spend the night
and comfort this nervous wreck?

Could you show me a smile
while you tell me that I'm trash
Could you insult my lifestyle
without even batting an eyelash

Should you care about garbage like me
your tastes must be perverted
Should I be allowed to feel this happy
honestly, I'm uncertain.

I need you to use your claws
to draw out the blood from my skin
I need you to break through the walls
I built to hide my true self within

I need you to split me open and dig inside
to grasp at my heart if you can
I need you to know the thoughts that I hide
and love the person I really am

She woke me up
this morning
when I overslept.

She brought a cup of tea.

When I opened my eyes
she wasn't there.

Nor was the tea.

It's not you, it's me.
Not true.
It's all you and all me.
I need to give you up for my sanity.
You make me go insane with your little games.
Why do I keep playing?
I believe in second chances,
but this is your millionth chance.
I've tried all too many times to let you in,
but you reject me and act like nothing happened.
I'm letting you go,
out of self respect.
I have that now, and I'm not letting it go.
Adios.
See you never.
Your welcome, self.