Cracked ****** lips plastered to the street
I'm kissing the pavement of our old avenue
Whispering to the pebbles, tracing the path of our feet
Biting my tongue once more, just to get a taste of you
I'd say that I've cut my heart open again,
But I wouldn't want to bore you with my poetic cliché
If you must know, I'm draining myself through this pen
And my lungs still carry that eighty-year-old ache

Broken bones crushed and swept under the rug
I shattered in your arms the night you turned away
Collapsed my own sanity, you disappeared with a shrug
Even my monsters had nothing condescending left to say
I'd tell you that I missed you, but that would be a petty lie
I only miss the part of myself that you so effortlessly stole
Consider this your thank you note, our delicate goodbye
I hope you're content, and thank you again for this huge ******* hole.

And what happens
When I finally tell you
That I was too ashamed to admit
That I dreamt up your face
When his lips touched mine
And I auto-tuned his voice
In my head until it was
A duplicate of yours
And that I traced his skin
But somehow my sensory memory
Defied the rules and I
Flashed back to seven years ago
When your arm was around my waist
And what happens
When you're not here
Anymore and my words are too
Late
And I end up engaged,
or God, married
To this man because
I keep pretending he's you

And I keep telling him
That he has my whole heart
But I think we both know
The truth
That it's always belonged to you
And that,
To be honest,
I don't ever want it back

Because in seven years time,
I've realized that it is so much easier
To sleep at night
To breathe in winter
To sigh in his arms
When I can't feel a ****** thing at all
And maybe I'm lying to him
And maybe that's ****** up…

But we're all damaged.
We're all damaged.

*Lord knows you made sure of that.

Your two a.m. words are my favorite
The way the starlight reflects in your eyes
And your smile breaks your face in half
When you tell me about your homeland
And how you used to sleep in the mountains
I paint the picture in my mind of you
Riding whitetail through the tropics

He's probably dead now, you admit
That horse you loved all those years ago
And it just breaks my ******* heart
But you don't seem to notice
You're talking to the shadows
To the monsters under my bead
Reminiscing of how things used to be

And how you miss the smell of coffee
When your mother would grind the beans
You tell me you miss your home
But you don't ever want to return
Because nothing can restore the past
Because I'm here, now, with you

You tell me that my laughter
Is the only home you'll ever need
And that the mountain bonfires
Cannot compare to the heat from my skin
You tell me you always believed in angels
But I was the first one you ever laid eyes on
You tell me my lips are sweet and my voice
Always hums the perfect melody

And in all these ways
You tell me you love me.
But I tell you
I cannot compete with a memory,

And it breaks my heart
Even more.

I gave you the sky
And you flew away

I don't know
What I was expecting.

But it wasn't that.

When I was younger I used to think that all the cars on the highway were racing each other. I used to yell at my mom because we were driving so slow. I never wanted to lose. She usually shrugged off my request or simply ignored it entirely. Then I began to imagine that the highway wrapped completely around the world, and we could drive to China if we really wanted to. No one ever told me otherwise because I rarely shared my ideas with anyone. That was the thing about being a kid, I just totally gave up on asking adults questions because their answers were always lies they told just to get me to stop asking more questions. I think that's *******. I was so curious about this life that was forced upon me. I was so curious about everything. And no one ever took the time to correctly explain to me how our lake got it's name or where butterflies go when they die. No one ever told me how Santa could get into our apartment if we didn't have a chimney and no one dare mentioned why I absolutely had to drink a full glass of milk every night with dinner.

I used to be so conceited that I thought the moon would chase me around the earth when I was catching fire flies in jars. And no one told me that fire flies need air holes and some type of food source. No one told me jarring up nature is probably a bad idea. No one told me I was stealing the souls of innocent creatures.

And then one day, somehow, I blinked and all of my curiosity disappeared. Suddenly I knew that thunder didn't mean the sky was ripping open and lightening wasn't pure magic. One day the school ripped away all of my creativity and I was forced to think inside of this boring box. One day I was fed all of the truths I never really wanted to know. One day I was reprogrammed into accepting a life of poverty in a cubicle. One day all my dreams became replaced by rants about a corrupt government. One day I realized the moon wasn't following me and the stars never belonged in my palms.

One day I was told that my life would amount to nothing and all would be forgotten and our existence is completely unjustified. One day I learned that everything I've ever loved or hated will be crushed into oblivion, and if I have a soul no one has any idea where it will go when my body turns into worm food.

And one day all of my questions were stashed away in a box and I just stopped caring about everything.

And then I met you. And your eyes had all the stars I ever wanted. And they were mine. And suddenly everything made sense and the world became beautiful, even when it wasn't. And then your hand held mine and all that mattered to me was your happiness and how wide I could spread your smile. One day you said my name and my ears never bothered to listen to music again. One day I realized that our love was the personification of beauty and no one could ever take that away from us. And one day I realized that everything temporary is much more permanent than it seems and even if our children's children's children forget our names, the stars never will.

I imagine a life with you
But I'm still dreaming of him
I want your children
Running around our house
Jumping on our bed
Sunday morning regret
Homemade waffles
From hungover hands
But it'll all be worth it
Because I know
Even then, years from now
There will still be stars in  your eyes
When my hair is a mess
And my clothes are littered with holes

I imagine our wedding day
The invitations with calligraphy
Engraved in deep ink
And how I can't bring myself
To dare write his name
With my hungover hands
And I don't tell you this
But I still dream up his face
When I'm kissing your lips
And I wish I could stop
But my heart is a mess
And his eyes never shined
Nearly as bright as yours
But they were deep enough
Kashmir quick sand
And I'm still stuck
Dreaming of him, my dear

I wish I was sorry.