I have already told you;
there are sleepless mornings
when I can taste
every poison lacing my cigarette

and I wouldn't mind except
for the way that they sift past
a throat already rubbed sore
from all of the screams kept silent inside.

at the point of every morning
where I'm too tired to think of anything else
you swim into the part of my heart
that doesn't want you to be there anymore.

I have cried during too many sunrises,
to justify ever crying for you again,
so I must regretfully quit this business,
and try my luck somewhere else.

when I think, or thought, of us together
I think of june the way I thought of june in july
it was and always will be something that
brought me a happiness I didn't deserve.

I can almost understand the way how
we will slowly drift apart forever and always
'like empires and old loves'
but rome wasn't rebuilt in a day.

you've betrayed me for the first and last time
I guess I had never thought that
there'd be somebody innocent
enough to tell me all the things that would
hurt me as if they were nothing; unfiltered.
but there is, and he has.

you were my first friend in a new place
and I have trusted you more that I should.

it was never you that I came to bother
when I was lost or lonely
or too drunk to make it home.
it was never you that I came to bother
when I was despondent or depressed
or too in love to take care of myself.

I heard you scoffed.
I heard you made a fuss.
at the very idea of the one thing that
made me happy at least for a little bit
at least for awhile.

and there is no revenge I can take
on someone who wouldn't care
if they never saw me again.
so I suppose I'll just have to wait until
this life turns around enough until
the point where I truly forget you.

but you were my first friend in a new place.
I have always been unquestionably thankful
for you, and for all that you have
accidentally done to help me.
I never thought that you'd
think of me this way.

I will ***** at you in a few days,
and then that will be
goodbye.

I can't rip out the part of me
that remembers a time
when things were better
between us.

and so I think,
that for a little while longer at least,
I will have mornings like this.

when I am dead
you will read all my poems
and hate me
only a little bit less
than I hated myself.

there are late nights
and early mornings
when I can taste the toxic chemicals
that lace my cigarettes
and this is one of them.

and if you ever come across these words
I hope you can forget
the voice that could never speak them aloud.

[sleep never comes anymore,
  and I am afraid that I'm losing my mind.]

no more june songs
it's november now and
I celebrated daylight savings
with two days in bed
thinking of you
and reading poems
I would've been better off
never writing.

no more june songs
it's november now
it gets dark at five
and one of these nights
I'll delete every poem
that you inspired.

no more june songs
it's november now and
they'll never be able to prove
that I loved you.