It has taken me nearly 19 years to accept the fact that I am stuck in this body,
a body that I have loved,
and hated.
Although,
more of the latter occurred than I would care to admit.
I'm stuck in this life,
as this person,
and I have to be okay with that.
Because not being okay with that,
doesn't leave me very many options.

I used to think
that they
were overreacting.
A break up can't
hurt like that.
******.
It's all
true.
I reach for the
ice cream.
I must've gained
ten pounds since
I told you
I can't treat you
the way you
want to be treated.
I cannot sleep
at night
Because I
wonder if
you hurt
as much as me.
I cannot listen to
music.
Because every melody
is a memory
every lyric is
our story.

*******.

We spent too
much time together.
I told you everything.
I would spend a day
with you.
And when I got home
we'd talk on the phone.
Til the sun came up.
You were the only
one
who
knew
me.

This sinking pit
in my abdomen.
The word
****
constantly on the
tip of my tongue.
The feeling of
hating you
loving you
missing you
wanting you
forgiving you
loathing you.

I cannot
help but think.
I wasted time on you...

My bathroom has a faucet that drips.
It’s very easy to sit there and stare at it.
Drip drip drip.
It reminds me of this saying
People in hell want ice water.
And I wonder if people in hell would take any water
Because being in a situation such as that
I wouldn’t be too picky.

I watch this faucet
And it feels like a sin
To let all of this water go to waste.
I know enough about tools
But not enough about sinks to fix it
So it continues.

It’s such a waste
And I wonder what’s a bigger waste?
The water going down the drain
Or the time that’s ticking
While I watch the water go down the drain.
I know where the water will go
I’m not so sure on the time.

I’ve done worse with my time though.
Nothing compares to summer I spent
Every night re-watching Stand By Me
Because I thought it might end differently.

Or the four times I looked in my mirror
Last night before leaving my room
To make sure I looked the same as I did before.

Or the time I spent writing this poem
About a leaky sink
Trying to find metaphors in water
And lost time.

But everything will add up in the end.
At least I hope it will.
No, that’s wrong.
I believe it will.
I can’t spend time hoping.

So the time I spent watching that sink
Or writing this poem will be for the greater good?
I have no idea.
I’ll just keep watching this ******* sink

Or I’ll leave the bathroom
And Google how to fix
Leaky sinks.
Because
People in hell want any water
I can't waste any more of it.

me
and
the
shadow
of
the
friend
I
once
had