He wants to be an engineer. He's talking about Newton and Hooke and I can't really keep up. He spits out equations and formulas, numbers and letters, my head hurts just thinking of it. His eyes are getting wider, brighter. It almost hurts to look at him when he gets like this. I know people are confused when they see us. He is math I am words. He is a top ranked school I am community college. He's filled with equations, formulas, and theories. I am filled with poetry, books, and literary devices. And in the fall we will part and despite the promises of keeping in touch I'll be just another thing he's left behind.

1.MY MOTHER WOULD STAND IN FRONT OF THE MIRROR AND PAINT HER LIPS RED FOR A MAN WHO WASNT MY FATHER.

2.MY BEST FRIEND STOLE HER MOTHERS LIPSTICK TO IMPRESS A BOY AT SCHOOL AND THE NEXT DAY SHE CAME INTO CLASS WITH A FAT LIP.

3.THE BEAUTIFUL BOY FROM MY FIRST PERIOD CLASS FRESHMAN YEAR BROKE MY HEART WITH LIPSTICK STAINS CRAWLING UP HIS JAW.

4.THE INSULTS ON THE BATHROOM STALLS WERE WRITTEN IN BLOOD RED LIPSTICK.

5.MY GEOMETRY TEACHER USE TO SNEER AT ME WITH SCARLET LIPSTICK ON HER YELLOW TEETH.

6.THE GIRLS IN MY FAVORITE BOOKS ALWAYS MADE ME CRY. THIER RED LIPS STILL HAUNT ME.

7.WHENEVER I’D TAKE IT OFF MY LIPS WOULD STILL LOOK PINK AS IF YOU’D SPENT HOURS KISSING THEM.

8.WHENEVER I THINK OF RED LIPS I THINK OF THE SCENE IN ****** WHERE HUMBERT IS ******* HIS LITTLE NYMPHET IN A DESPERATE ATTEMPT FOR HER TO STAY AND HER RED LIPSTICK IS SMEARED ON HER MOUTH AS SHE STARES UP GLASSILY AT THE CEILING

8.WHEN YOU FINALLY GOT OFF  MY BROKEN BODY THAT NIGHT MY RED LIPSTICK WAS SMEARED ACROSS YOUR CHEEK. YOU PULLED ON YOUR PANTS AND ZIPPED YOURSELF UP . YOU THUMBED THE RED MESS ON YOUR CHEEK AND SMIRKED AT ME AND SAID. “GOD I LOVE THOSE RED LIPS"

Please fall asleep so I can take pictures of you and hang them in my room.

You’re laying in between my legs, your back against my chest. I’m afraid you can feel my heart trying to escape my ribcage. Your fingers are interlaced through mine and I feel like I might throw up because they’re sweaty and I’m terrified you’ll be grossed out and let go. We’ve been in this position for hours watching movies and playing video games I want to freeze this moment in time.

So when I wake up I’ll feel like yeah everything’s alright.

You say you have to go and I swallow the bile in my throat. This is love in the worst way. You pull yourself away from me and gather your things. I want to grab your hand and pull you back down to me. Hide in this bed, under these covers and never come out.

You are still here, you are still happy, you are still smiling and laughing. You are still the only thing and everything I need in my life.

You say that I won’t give you space. I suffocate you with my hugs and the way I hold your hands and the way I always call and the way I yell. You say maybe we’re not a right fit and that you’re sorry.

And it goes in in out through the mouth breathing exercises I will never figure out til I am running in circles

You only ever call now to tell me to stop driving by your house. You said we ended weeks ago. That this space was necessary. But how could being away from the person you need more than you need air be necessary ?


or walking in circles, or crawling in circles, or laying on the ground

I’m laying in your backyard looking up at the same sky we would draw figures in with our fingers. Your father comes out and yells, he was never fond of me.

And I can hear your dog whistle from my bedroom*

I’m icing the bruise on my face. You’re on the speakerphone apologizing for your dad. You say I can't come by anymore. The only sound between us is the static of the phone and the sound of your dog whistling.

This girl is darkness and she’s beautiful.
She tells me to call her darkness.
She wears makeup I hate and always has a scowl on her face.
She threatens to break my legs if I touch any of her writing journals.
She rolls her eyes whenever I tell her I miss her.
She cancels our dates because she sometimes gets too anxious.
She sometimes lets me hold her hand.
She cries for hours after reading a book and she calls to rant about the characters she hates.
She refuses to wear the ring I got her on her finger so she wears it on a necklace.
She says she likes her nails sharp so she can impale her enemies with a flick of her wrists.
My girl is darkness and she’s beautiful.

All the cool kids are hanging out in parks puffing on the cigarettes they secretly hate while alternating drags with sips of awful alcohol that burns all the way down and sets their bellies uncomfortably warm. Their eyeliner is smudged and their eyes are empty. Their lips painted red and when they smile red smudges are spotted on yellow teeth. They listen to music about living now, dying young, and leaving behind beautiful corpses. I cant help but realize they’re all fakes and I hate them. I’m currently writing this down in my journal with a cigarette i hate hanging from my lips and a plastic cup containing *** sitting beside me. They’re all so fake. I’m so fake.

don't touch me i'm afraid i'll break
your hands are too rough they only know anger,
but I've only known love.

don't touch me i'm afraid i feel all wrong
not smooth enough, not perfect,
not perfect at all.

don't touch me i'm afraid i don't love you.
dad said never give up pieces so vital,
pieces you'll never forget losing.

don't touch me i'm afraid you'll leave after this.

don't touch me.
don't touch me.
don't touch me.
i'm not ready for this.