Your words sting like lemon slices salting wounds.
Can we talk it out?
I don’t get it.

On my Instagram talkin’ bout “I’m healed”.
I’m really thinking about dialing 911.
‘Cause they probably don’t believe me when I say I want to leave.

When I say I love you I mean I want you to hold a gun to my head.
When I say I miss you I mean I miss the old me I was when I was with you.
Silly.
Like pulling petals from a daisy.
Sometimes I don’t trust the way I feel.
When I say I hate you I mean I want to touch you, but my fingertips are numb.
When I say I’m doing good, I’m hoping that I don’t drive off this hill.
I wish I could be like everyone, but I’m not like anyone.

I wish I could be like everyone, but I’m not like anyone I know.

i look at you and think to myself, “how could someone be so hesitant to love You?”
the sun had already sunk so low by the time your body hit the couch.
your eyes closed and head tilted back, as the seconds pass by.
i can tell your breathing became less automatic after you let the alcohol burn your throat.
i can tell that it seemed to taste much more different to you.
this time, your tastebuds dancing to every sip you take.
from that bottle of blue raspberry flavored wine.
and maybe it’s because cupid missed your heart and hit you in the throat.
so hard that even your hangover hurt almost as bad as your heart rupturing.
i see the lamp next to you shining like the city of Vegas, especially during your loneliest times.
and i think about how you’re so fragile and devastated after she left you.
you sit there all night as your body is trying not to give out.
you collapse over and over again after each sip,
yet you still close your eyes as if the world around you isn’t falling apart.
i hope that one day you find someone who isn’t the missing pages
but the entire story
just as you are.

And I rage..
I rage because you do not feel the same.

you remind me of
the ocean
traffic jams in my favorite cities,
the coffee i sip at 4 in the morning,
the warm blanket i wrap closer to my body,
the sun when it has finally set,
sounds of birds chirping,
the tinks of wind chimes,
and ***** has never
made me as tipsy as you have.
i'm lying here wrapped
in a couple of *****, old blankets
to keep me warm...
but never like you used to.