i love being this high. 
where i can't feel a thing. 
but i can feel everything, all at once, every fiber of my being I can feel. 
i don't know if this is a good thing. 
all i can think about were those morning **** rips with your family, 
margarita night with your mom. 
i loved the **** out of you, and that was always the problem wasn't it? 
i accepted too much, i had seen too much of you. 
always one for mystery. 
i miss how your breathe felt on my neck. 
I miss how your eyes looked in the morning, my ******* vampire of a man. 
covered in me, and you, and us. 
and that one mistake of a afternoon. 
 and everything you tried to fake. 
you can't fake something like that. 
you can't fake the way my hands felt on your neck in the early hours of the day. 
it's okay, though. 
it turned out better than we had ever thought possible.

everything bad happens for a reason, i think. 
everything good happens by chance, by luck. 
i never really planned a good thing that's happened in my life. 
they just kind of happened. 
that night with the cows. 
the night with the bottle and a back road. 
the day we got too ****** to move from your bed. 
so we discovered each other instead. i still know how many freckles you have, how many scars were from jumping off ****. 
you always swore you could fly. 
that one weekend we threw together and called it a good time. 
that night in the car, the rain coming down. 
i was buzzed, off cheap wine and young love. 
i said i think it's early, but i think i love you. 
the day at the beach when for once my family didn't fight. 
all unplanned, all amazing. 
the bad things though, i hand picked them. 
i couldn't of chosen better.

this is a different kind of heartbreak. 
it's the kind that you feel everywhere. 
you wake up with your bones, aching.
short of breathe from one too many cigarettes the night before. 
i see you in my dreams. 
the you you were before. 
before the truth, before the outrage. 
before reality kicked in. 
you don't love her like you want to. 
and you never will. 
you can't love a copy when you're still loving the blueprint.

i want to know what nickname you have for her. 
i wonder if it's the same thing you called me. 
i want to know how it felt when you ****** her for the first time. 
was it better? 
was it love? 
you're the only person ive ever made love with.
the real cheesy kind. 
the kind you see in the movies, or read in adult novels. 
we were one. one body, one soul, one mind. 
we could both twist the situation to make ourselves look better. 
but, at the end of it all we loved to a fault. 
we loved to a limit we didn't know existed. 
we were never really forever, i see that now. 
but i know, sometimes when you look at her, laying beside you in your bed, you're thinking of that week at the beach when every morning you woke up to my hair in your face and my arm strewn across your chest. 
and i know sometimes, when you **** her, you think about how different i made you feel and how much you miss that thing i did with my tongue. 
little things like that, are what you're going to miss. 
while im here wondering what you told your parents about her.

i fall in love with
people who can
only seem to love
ghosts.
ghosts of past lovers,
ghosts of themselves,
ghosts of ghosts.
maybe when
i finish
diminishing myself
down to nothing,
ill be able to
be loved too.