my mom warned me about addiction,
but she only mentioned the ones that revolved around pills and a needle.
but never ever did she mutter even a word about a 17 year old boy whose turquoise eyes made my eye sight get a bit blurry and whose touch made me a little lightheaded.

When I met you I had galaxies in my heart, stars in my eyes, and constellations in my mind. My dreams stretched to the other side of the universe and I swore that one day I'd fly with the comets, mesmerizing every single person who saw me. So ******* for stripping me of all of that and **** myself for letting you.

• that when you hold my hand, your palms get sweaty because for some odd beautiful reason my laughter and smile make you nervous

• when you say my name it sounds like a bird outside my window singing me to sleep at 6 am

• how you pull me closer and wrap a blanket around me when I start shivering while we're watching our favorite show; even though it's 85 degrees outside

• when I get angry at you and I'm about to walk away with mascara lines down my face, you grab my wrist and tell me you'll never leave me alone

• when I look into your beautiful turquoise eyes and my knees begin to grow weak, and you always seem to know just when to catch me

• how at 3 am you wrap your arms around me to remind me that you're still there protecting me because you know how frequent my nightmares are

• how you kiss every single scar on my body weather it be from when I fell off my bike when I was ten years old or from self infliction

• that when I call you yearning for your advice you don't give me some ******* answer like every other person in life has

• how when I'm doubting your love for me, you grab my face and start screaming that I'm the only you'll ever need

• that I'll never be able to stop loving you, even if the moon collapsed and demanded that you aren't right for me

your eyes used to remind me of how the sun bounces off of the lake when it was just about to set and it seemed like a kaleidoscope of blues was everywhere around me, engulfing me and making me feel calm, even in my darkest hour. your voice used to remind me of how when I look up at the night sky I can see a pattern in the stars that no one else around me could see so they said I was special and that I'll achieve things that nobody else could.
but now it's 4 am and I can't sleep because I can't erase the memory from my mind of your beautiful blue eyes turning into the color of your soul and your voice echoing that you lied about everything you've ever said especially the part of being in love with me.

I think it's funny that when it's 2 AM and I'm contemplating ripping off my skin my parents said I can talk to them to make it better, but 99% of the time, they're the ones that put me into that position.

I think it's funny that when I told my parents about slicing my thighs open they said that they'd get me help and everything would be okay, but everything has only gotten worse and now I feel like I'm living in hell.

I think it's funny how my parents promised me that they'd never take away the one thing that made me feel okay, but now it's 10 o'clock at night and I'm missing out on the fun that my best friends are having because I can't be trusted overnight to be with the only people that help me forget about how I'd be able to get blood to pour out of my body with something other than the blades I don't have anymore.

I think it's funny how my parents said that they'd never want me to leave this earth, but they're the reason why at 5 am I want to take 100 pills and drown myself with my tears and strangle myself with their voices of saying I'm not good enough.

I think it's funny how my mom swears that she knows what she's talking about and that she knows how to make everything better, yet she almost always seems to be the one that makes me want to break open my knuckles by punching the wall so many times.

I think it's funny that when I get upset about my parents making me be a prisoner in my own home, my dad says that there isn't anyone that I should be mad at except for myself, like I somehow could've prevented this from happening.

I think it's funny that almost every single scar on my body is from my parents shoving me into a wall and telling me that I'll never be good enough for this world and that I'm sure as hell not good enough for them.

I think it's funny that I'm only one person in a world of 7 billion people, and that my parents say that if I were gone I'd be missed, but I won't be, especially by them. and I can promise them that.

I think about you every single day still.

even though it's been over a year since my heart was ripped out, I still wish it would be you to stitch it back together.

I don't want some guy who's name I don't even know stitching it back together after I've drank so much my head spins, but that's normally how it goes.

a new boy told me he liked me today and since he smelled like you I almost kissed him.

but if I would have kissed him, his lips wouldn't mold to mine like yours so willingly did.

sometimes I can swear I can still feel your fingertips tracing my thighs.

my fingers still aren't very sure how to grasp things because they still want it to be you I'm grasping, not the toilet bowl I'm throwing up into after a night of drowning my sorrows in *****.

my thoughts still echo your name, but  I can't tell whether it's from me missing you so dearly, or from me wanting to strangle you for cracking me in half.

I think about how we knocked the pictures off the wall when I pushed you into it with lust, and then we laughed so hard that we ruined the moment so beautifully.

sometimes I think I can hear your voice in the blanket you gave me after I told you I couldn't sleep without your arms around me, which then causes me to start weeping and shout your name into it which somehow still smells like you.

I've washed my hair over 300 times, but I still can't seem to get it to go back to the way it was so now it's still as tangly as it was that Saturday morning, and still smells like your pillow and cologne.

the butterflies in my stomach turn into piranhas whenever I see you, and they rip apart my insides and it leaves me bleeding for days.

I still think about that one time when I woke you up at 2 am when I called you sobbing, and you picked me up and we drove for three hours because you thought I'd rip my veins out even though I'd been so good for so long.

my dad asked me if I wanted him to paint over the writing on my wall from when we'd been together for a year and you wrote that you'd love me forever, but I told him no because it's all I really have left of you anymore.

you grew daisies in my heart and watered them with your kisses and love, but now there's just dust left from the tornado that ran across my insides the night you left me.

I remember when you told me it was over and I collapsed on the sidewalk where we had out first kiss, and I screamed at the moon swearing I was going to die that night.

I told myself I was going to close my heart and close the box of butterflies so my love for you would die.

I closed it. there is no more heart. and there are no more butterflies.