I don't want someone to own me, or vice versa
I just want to belong to each other

and here i am again
at the intersection
of pedestrian language
& old wives tales
swallowing gum
like 7 year memories
opening umbrellas inside
cause i can't seem get away
from all of this rain
i ******* with my left hand
cause i was told
back in highschool that
"it feels like someone else is doing it"
it gets me wondering
about the difference between
losing you and finding out
that some one else found you
or my sleep
or lack thereof
its starting to tear me apart
i keep having this dream
where you are in
an unfamiliar body of water
trying to wash my poetry
off of your hands
or the one where
something happens in my chest
every time you sit
on someone else's bed
i'm tired of feeling like something you've misplaced
but don't have the heart
to look for anymore
tired of you saying my name
like you're trying to bury it
i'm tired of wondering
if you can tell the difference
between the absence
of my voice & silence
the other day
i almost started sobbing
at work when a woman
asked me about
our equipment
i was explaining how
things come apart
and almost mentioned your name
it made me think
of how you used to say
things like "what would you do
if i showed up on your doorstep
one day?" now, i haunt
the windows in my house
i don't leave for weeks at a time
i sit on the porch like the dog
you didn't shoot behind the shed
the one that refuses to die
until you come home again
i told somebody once, that
you didn't even know
what my voicemail sounded like
i wonder if they thought
it was because you
are so important that i never
let it ring that many times
before picking up
or if you dont know
what it sounds like
because you've never called
you can't be the ****** weapon
and the search party
i'm tired of all the seats
to the ferris wheel in my chest
being empty
tired of your voice
being the one i look for
in abandoned places
that one sound i beg
to bounce back
down vacant hallways
i just seem to stand there
in all of that quiet
like someone looking for a mistake
on an eviction notice
so i guess the hardest part
isn't letting go
it's forgetting
you ever had a grip
in the first place
and since you've been gone
i wonder if when
you pushed yourself away from me
you used your left hand
so it felt like someone else did it

Dear randy,
I'm sorry I ruined your life. It's just that hurt people hurt people, and you were hurt. I'm sorry you were hurting so badly you had to hurt me. And I'm sorry this probably doesn't sound much like a poem it's just that I can't make this pain sound pretty and no amount of imagery or sensory detail can make you feel the blue green flames of my anger burn every happy memory you ever gave me. And if anger is only the second stage of the grieving process I'm not moving on very quickly because, I'm sorry, but whenever I think of you my brain spills curse words like my eyes spill tears like my pen is spilling ink. And I'm sorry that I, your 17 year old daughter, have to apologize for things that are your fault, because your fault is your lack of ownership for ruining me. You made waking up feel like plunging my head into the ocean and with every breath my lungs drew in more seawater until I was full of it and I was sure my heart was the titanic that hit an iceberg with your name written on it that made it split in two and sink to the bottom of the sea floor I call my rib cage. My every breath became a sigh because I could never get enough air but once I did I didn't want it anymore. I trusted you and you lied and cheated and ruined the only relationship you promised me would last. There is a hurt inside of me that won't go away and for that I am sorry. I'm sorry that when you look into my eyes, you have to see that my tear ducts are so dry it's impossible for me to cry so I just laugh. I'm sorry you have to see the walls built up around my heart and know that you no longer have the keys and I'm sorry, randy, that I can't let you heal. Because when I'm okay, you can be okay, but I am so not okay.

1:23 am and you want to get drunk off alcohol and i want to get drunk off your lips but i guess it's easier to open a bottle than your mouth.

1:43 am and i know you're drinking and i long to be the cold metal you wrap your lips around and the cool liquid that runs over the mountains on your tongue.

2:15 am and you ask me how i am and you worry that i've fallen asleep but you don't see that i can't even close my eyes without seeing you, without me, and i consider never blinking again if it means i can escape that sight.

2:24 am and you tell me i'm cute. 14 times.

2:36 am "i want to kiss you" and i know your brain is fuzzy and your hands are shaking but when you tell me these 5 words i cant help myself from stretching them out and wrapping myself in them.

2:38 am "i really want to kiss you" and i know you're drunk and i know you ****** me over and i know you've said this to other girls and i know i shouldn't want to but i know that i really want to kiss you too.

2:47 am "i really wanna see you" and i wish you knew what your simple phrases do to me and maybe you do but the only thing i know for sure at this moment is that you are no good for me and i can't get enough.

2:49 am and you say you'll do anything but your intoxicated mind can't see that you've had me hooked for as long as i can remember.

3:01 am and you start to turn away and i feel you getting farther and i can't do anything to hold you in place for just a second longer. i'm choking on my words as you doubt my feelings for you and i can't help but blame myself for letting you slip away. but maybe i never really had you in the first place.

3:19 and all i hear is "no"

"fine"

"nevermind"

3:34 am and i ask you if you know how much you mean to me and you say no and i think my heart just gave up and i think you just gave up and i can't believe you'd think i'd give up

4:03 am and the door screeches behind me (****) and the air is colder than i thought (****) and i have no idea where to go (****).

4:13 am and i find myself making conversation with the rain and the earth is breathing me in and the stars look at me with such pity and i try to drown them out but i'm just a washed out girl waiting for a boy who's not coming.

4:24 am and i can't bring myself to leave this **** corner just like i can't bring myself to get over you and your stupid lips.

sometime after 4:24 am and i can see you coming towards me as a shadow in the streetlights and i don't think you have any idea how my being craves your touch, how my fingers miss the nape of your neck and how the small of my back feels so ******* abandoned.

there is no measure of time when i am with you and your hands become one with my shaking fingers and your thumb rolls over my palm and we are in the middle of the street and i think this is the first time in a long time that i do not wish for a car to come and sweep me off my feet. i think you've gotten taller but i do not feel small anymore, i do not feel empty, i do not long for an end. i think you lift me up and i think i like the way you smell and i think i'm going crazy but it seems to me that your tongue is writing love letters on mine and i can feel our chests moving, breathing heavy, and our hearts have left our lonely bodies and merged as one in the air above our heads.

5:18 am and your touch is a fire that i do not want to put out. but it is raining and i have to go but i think i can hear it sizzling still. i do not think that your beer and **** can compare to the high i get from your lips on my neck or the dizziness i get from your fingers running along my spine. your kiss is addictive and i could get drunk off of you all the time. if only i could.

god ****** she misses you

and god ****** i miss you

and im sorry, god, for swearing but i have run out of ideas on how to make this no good shapeshifting warm handed boy notice me remember when he said i love you

this is not a goodbye you don't deserve one this is not a plea for help see previous poems, twitter, my wrists, etc this is not a romanticization of your destructive ways and i no longer hear birds sing when you torch cities and i can't bring myself to see the love in your inferno so what the hell do i have left to say to you

i once wrote that you left love letters on my tongue and that you made drowning fun but i have come to the conclusion that those are both in fact lies and that the only thing you left on my tongue is the bitter taste of your name and beer and that drowning is ******* terrible and so are you

i remind myself everyday that you must have been a good person somewhere along the way and that there must have been some point where you actually did miss the feeling of my skin and that i was the only one you cared for- but i must also remember the day you filled my vacancy and turned on the lights and i still see you in the smiling pictures hung on the walls like your head in the hall whenever i pass by and i remember the day you moved out and on to nicer things and to this day you have succeeded in making the whole thing feel like an eviction, like it was me that wanted you gone and my peeling wallpaper has since revealed that the only thing holding me together was you

funny how every part of this poem ends with you and funny how every thought these days ends with you

and it's funny how when things ended with you you were the only one laughing

this is not a cry or a plea or an appology

this is a eulogy from me to you and i will not waste any more metaphors or adjectives or nights where i should be fast asleep on your whirlpool eyes and twisted smile

you once said, at 3 am, "you know when you're as close to loving someone as physically possible without actually saying it?" and i replied with "yes" and i love you i love you i love you

i hope flowers grow from your rotting heart and i hope you wake up some life and feel just a hint of remorse as you look into her eyes

i'm not a poet and you're not a nice boy and there was a time when i would devote my life to writing about the way you touched my cheek and you would devote your life to exploring the small of my back

that life has ended and i hope she holds you close enough at night

(my own hands will find comfort in the folds you left unnoticed and i will let myself hear the whispers of flattery upon every surface i touch. i will love myself and i will learn to not love you and i will find someone that i can love without pushing myself aside)

they say you should find someone to make you love yourself first.
well they were right.
I know this because I love my hips now.
because your hands fit on them so beautifully that I pray they never change even the slightest bit.
you make me love how cold my feet get.
they go completely numb at times but the warmth of your legs shoots through my body and I wouldn't change it for anything.
you make me love my bad habits.
stupid, nervous issues but you notice them and love me anyway.
you make me love all the way down to how I breathe.
If you're anything like me you'd lay on my chest and count each breath, feel each inhale and exhale.
you make me love the way my voice sounds.
I could listen to your name all day, even when it's my own lips it rolls off of.
you make me love my short hair, even when it's grown out too much in spots.
you gave me the confidence to do it and the confidence to wear it every single day.
you make me love me. for every little thing I am.
because I know that you love every little thing about me too.
and something you love will always be worth loving to me too.