in grade 8 i met a poet who told me that the cure to writers block was to consecutively write down all my thoughts in a time period of 3 minutes. so i've been doing that for the past couple months and somehow they always end up sounding like suicide notes. the way they always start with a story and end in "i'm sorry." wouldn't you have thought that i would have been happier by now?

i've been carving your name into my wrists with silver blades so it feels like you are still a part of me. i have no more tears left to cry so i guess it's time i start bleeding. i'm replacing my emptiness with pain and the exhilaration of death never made me feel so alive.

i have never been good at anything. i thought that maybe loving you could change that but i guess it seems i'm not much use for that either. all i know how to do is make you cry and make you ***. i have never been much good at anything else.
and i finally understand why no one has ever loved me in the ways i love them.
who would ever buy a shirt with stains or a mirror that is fragmented.
who would ever eat a meal half-cooked
or live in a house that has collapsed
and these all seem like such meaningless questions but what i'm trying to say is who could ever love a soul that is bruised.

so i understand.
i understand that everyone needs a valve. everyone needs a pump of oxygen into their lungs, a pump of air from mouth to mouth. everyone needs a life source.
you wanted me because i fit the job requirements but i guess you are starting to realize that you can't steal a heart beat from someone who is far past dead.
so i understand why you are leaving.
and the only words i can push out from my lips,
i'm sorry

I have a tendency to fall in love with people who mimic the seasons:

in spring I fell in love with a boy who's green eyes lit up when he smiled. he came quick and left even faster. he was much too put together to love someone like me.
everywhere he went, he left behind happiness and beauty.  when he spoke, it sounded like the night sky, peaceful and calm.
while I was chugging handles of liquor and smoking cigarettes on my back porch, he was studying for tests and falling in love with a girl who was no good for him.
i promised him he would find someone who would treat him like the stars treat the sky and let him go because I was a downpour and he was the eye of the storm.  

when the heat of summer came, so did he. his crystal blue eyes hid more mystery than the sky.
he only ever told me how he felt when his body was more full of alcohol than it was blood, although he promised me he spoke a sober mind.
his tongue was a liar and his heart was a thief but when he touched me, he illuminated my body and ignited my bones and I've never felt more alive and on fire than I did with him.
his kiss caused heat stroke and when he went away, the fire he started boiling in my blood left me in ashes.

then autumn came, along with a boy with honey brown eyes that glistened in the sun.
he was an artist and he decided to mimic the changing colors of the leaves, and painted my skin and my mind in dark purples and light browns.
he told me that I was more beautiful than anything he had ever seen in any museum, but I felt more like empty hallways than art filled walls when I was with him.
he made the temperature in my ribcage drop about one hundred degrees and I began to realize why my mind kept freezing up when I tried to speak to him.
when I finally cut loose of his heavy grasp, i couldn't see the flicker of color in my own eyes any longer, and I began to feel more dead than alive.

in winter, I met a boy who's eyes were a deep teal. I looked for months, but I could never see a sparkle in them, always empty, always seeming to gaze right through me.
his touch was like cold spring waters and when he kissed me, I could feel all the life inside of me drown under the pressure.
he whispered I love you while sliding out from underneath the sheets and his icy breath lingered against my skin. he made my every pore ache.
he was a blizzard and  I couldn't wait for his presence to melt away.

after a year had come and gone I found a boy who's eyes changed with each season.
his smile brought flickers of sunshine and his mouth spoke hurricanes and his kiss felt like forever.
when he loved me the same in the ferocity of heat and the desolation of coldness, I saw him as more than just one person.
he was everything; all at once.
and I loved him.

I am terrified of loving you; for me it is a reflex, for you it is a chore.
telling you I love you is more instinctive for me than breathing is, but you always seem to choke up on those three simple words.
and i will continue to let you to lie to me until your words reflect off of my skin instead of tearing it open.
I think it's because I've always had a thing for destruction and looking into your eyes felt a lot like staring into blinding headlights;
I could hear you shouting at me to step back but if kissing you meant death, nobody would never hear my heart beat again.
and maybe that's why it's so hard for you to love me.
I find at times your presence weakens and your voice becomes a nonexistent echo in the depth of my mind. and when you tell me you love me, it sounds like you're waiting for an apology.
so I'm sorry for keeping you here for so long; I can't bring myself to think about the moment you will leave.
you ignited a spark of electricity that pumped through my veins when you touched me and without you here my body is becoming numb from frostbite.
and next time you tell me you love me, I hope to god it doesn't sound like a goodbye.

my eyes were bloodshot. I'm not quite sure if it's from inhaling gusts of smoke or loss of sleep. buzzed nights kept me up until sunrise, most of them were hours I wish I had spent asleep.

your green eyes reminded me of the earth after a rainfall, alive but sad. they shot bullets into mine without ever considering the exit wound.  you should have known, you could gaze into my soul and see your reflection staring right back at you.

I learned the difference between love and lust. one takes your breath away and the other leaves you wishing your lungs would run out of oxygen. turns out, I can't really decide which one is which.

what I do know is, his eyes were filled with lust instead of love. he wanted my hands to fix every broken bone of his. and no matter how many times he tried to convince people he was okay, I knew he only used my lips as a way for him to feel better about himself.

but his kiss felt right. the ferocity of lighting and the calmness of rain all at once. baby, he was the whole ******* storm. every time the clouds covered the sun, I thought of the way his eyes closed.

but the problem was, he kissed her when the taste of me was still on his tongue.

and I tried to forget about him by forcing love on another who's kiss felt more like the vast, empty blue sky rather than the danger and wonder of everything held within the blue. nothing ever works out if you try too hard. my mind kept telling me that making love to this boy wouldn't be making love at all. so I held myself back and spent my night alone.

this is how December ended, more lonely than how it began.

we always came back to eachother

he resembled the sun,
and burned so violently that everyone melted away in his presence.
so full of anger yet everything he did was gentle.
he was alive with energy and every memory he made was so vivid.
the world turned into a living ember, a dancing spark when he smiled.
I was so intrigued by his beauty and ferocity.

I, on the other hand
have secrets hidden within every morsel of my body.
my mind is dark and mysterious and not the kind you would wish to explore.
I was the night sky,
so bold, yet powerless,
trying effortlessly to be the light in people's lives,
yet failing miserably and bringing a blackness upon everyone surrounding me.

but when we touched,
there became an explosion of colors you could only imagine.
we became something so beautiful,
people stopped in their tracks just to admire us.
everyone knew that together;
we could become something so breathtaking,
so empowering,
that we could not be stopped.

and we always came back to eachother.

*******.
If you had loved me you wouldn't have given up on me. Nothing has changed.
I'm still the one diving head first into treacherous waters and you are too afraid to dip your toes in.
You are incapable of loving because you are too scared to get hurt.
You look into my eyes and see roaring flames that you feel will eat you alive but baby you should know that's just the burning embers of a strike of a match.
I used to be stronger than this. I really did.
But I've spent so much time getting swords twisted into my spine fighting for you that it has made me weak.
When will you stop being so afraid to love me?
I loved danger too much and when I found out you were toxic for me, I wanted nothing more than for you to be the cause of my beating heart to collapse.
I knew just what I was getting into when I first met you.
But I loved too much and you didn't love at all and now I'm laying with my face upon cold cement and you are standing, watching over my fragile body and I'm not quite sure who won this battle.
I let you destroy me, but you destroyed the soul of someone who loved you deeply.