Looking back,
maybe most of it wasn't as beautiful
as I thought it was.
Maybe most of it was
in fact,
afternoons I spent trying to guess what you were thinking.
Maybe most of it
was me asking too much,
you telling me that you didn't want to fight.
Not here.
"Not like this..."
You said.
Looking back,
maybe you were trying to let me down
easily
over and over again.
While all the while,
I fought you until you conceded
for another day,
until you just couldn't anymore...
I think now,
that most of it was me loving you,
thinking that I wasn't asking anything of you.
When really,
I was asking everything of you.
That was never fair.
I focused so ******* the magic,
the single fleeting moments,
that I used them to fill in the gaps.
I created this story where everything was beautiful...
when all we really were,
were shards of shattered glass being hit by the sunlight.
See,
those moments glittered in my mind so brightly,
I forgot that they were sharp.
I forgot that things weren't supposed to start that way,
jagged and broken.
You blinded me.
And when you finally did leave,
I walked across those memories
over and over again
until it began to rain,
until there was no more sunlight.
And when they stopped glittering,
I looked down to see my feet,
covered in the open wounds you left behind...
And my feet bled,
and my heart ached,
and I cried.

I cried so badly for the loss of you.

I cried over all the things that I had never seen coming,
because I had been so worried
about never expecting anything from you,
that I had forgotten to protect myself.
I had never prepared myself for the moment
when you wouldn't be there anymore.
I never had a plan for how I would handle
the way you had looked at me
would inevitably haunt me.
And it did.
You did.
For weeks I cried for you,
in the quiet moments between doing other things.
You broke my heart.
And then you came back...
Came back as if I would still be here.
And I was,
for a while.
But I can't be here anymore.
I can't love us enough anymore,
can't pick up the slack another moment,
because my heart is tired,
and my feet are bloodied,
and my hands are broken from trying
to hold the pieces of this together,
while all the while you were pulling us apart.
You can't come back here.

I'll admit,
I thought I wanted you to.
I waited for you.
I wanted this.
I WANTED this.
I ******* wanted this...
didn't I?
But now you're here.
You're here and I realize,
how few good moments there really were.
So many of our days,
weren't good days at all,
were they?
So many days you left me devastated.
Left me questioning who I was,
what I'd said,
what you were thinking.
I spent so much time waiting for you to leave.
So,
I think it really is time now.

I think it's time for us to really just...
Let us go.
Because I could spend forever wishing
that I'd known our last kiss would be so,
so that I could kiss you just another moment longer.
I could wish for one more drink,
one more iron table,
smile at me one more time,
look at me that way,
brush your hand across mine,
smile at me,
make me laugh,
ask me what I'm thinking,
hold me in a parking lot,
tell me that you thought of me today,
tell me that you thought of me in general,
miss me.
For the sake of ******* everything,
miss me just more ******* time.

Please...

But the reality is,
none of that would change any of this.
You'll still be you.
I'll still be me.
And I'll still love you.
And you still won't know what to say.
You'll never let me inside of you,
and I'll forever be at the mercy of you.
I can't live like that.
I don't want to know you,
if it means that we have to pretend that none of
this was real.
That isn't fair to what this was.
This was broken and dangerous from the beginning,
but when the sunlight hit it,

Baby, this was magic.

So leave me here,
like this.
Let me heal.
Let me miss you when it rains,
but let me get over you.
Let it be enough,
because it has to be enough now.
Walk away,
because I'm not strong enough to do it on my own.

So if you ever loved me,
in any way,
set me free.

Set me free, for the last time.

I love you,
L.

I’m going to miss you tonight.
Every single part of you.
Every last ounce of who you are.


And tomorrow,
well tomorrow...

I won’t.

I cleansed myself of everything that was left of you.
So in turn,
I disappeared too.
For so much of me,
had been you, for so long,
I wasn’t sure there would be anything else.
You had crawled under my skin,
made your home in my headspace,
and you just... lived there.
Unkempt and untamed.
Wreaking havoc.
Weaving your smirk through the darkest corners
like the cobwebs that never seem to have a keeper.
Appearing in dark corners with no other evidence of the architect.
You were the spider,
that left your masterpieces for me to stumble upon
before retreating underneath the memories you thought I’d never unpack.
The pile of film reels,
Our first kiss,
the last kiss..
Everything in-between.
There, you hid waiting,
for my guard to come down,
Something, anything, to remind me of you
giving you time to weave your last words to me
in your silken strands
So that when I returned from nostalgia,
there they were.
You needed time.
You needed space.
You were sorry,
because I really was great
But it wasn’t the right time...
All the *******.
All the lies.
Enough.
Enough now.
So I went into every corner,
cleaned out every crevice,
scrubbed down every wall with bleach,
until all the remained of you,
and therefore all that remained of me,
was that empty room,
and a hollowed chest.
And when I finally found you,
cowering underneath the last cardboard box,
the one with the last of the memories
of how you used to look at me,
I killed you with my shoe,
walked out of that room,
and slammed the ******* door behind me.

It
still
rains
when
I
miss
you.

Listening to you twirling in the kitchen
singing songs in made-up languages
laughing at jokes you haven't made yet
and I wonder,
my sweet little girl,
with the fire in your soul,
and the freedom in your eyes...

What will break you first?

When will you stop dancing with abandon?
When will you stop singing in the hallways?
When will the house grow quiet,
because the first boy broke your spirit,
when he broke your heart.

What will be the first thing you don't tell me?
Will it be the boy you couldn't say no to?
Or the one you thought you shouldn't have to say it to.
Will you be too afraid to tell me?
Will you worry that I'll think terrible things
Will I?

I wonder,
who will be the first boy you change everything for?
Will you know it's happening?
Will you try to stop it,
but follow through,
because the love feels real,
and the love has to be worth it.
And when he breaks you, again
will you believe him when he says it's your fault?
When he tells you that you broke this,
when he tells you that you should've
been better,
been prettier,
been smarter,
talked less,
talked more,
been less emotional,
tried harder,
****** better...

Will you believe him,
when he tries to tell you
that you existed for him and failed?
Or will you know that he can't be right,
because you existed without him,
and you'll exist again.

Will you exist again,
without him?
Will you know who you are with him,
and without him...
Will there be a day where you stop knowing the difference?

How many men will break you,
before you settle for the one who is safe?
The one who convinces you that you can be a better person,
takes whatever you had left,
strips you of who you could've been,
before letting you down, all the same.
How long will it take for the inspiration he sparked in you to fade?
Will you know to walk away?
Will you be braver than I was?
Will you be brave.
Will you.

Be brave.

I’d like to think that this ends
much like a dying star.
That it burns and boils with fury and passion
until one day it implodes into itself,
in a beautiful spectacle of cosmic mourning.

But there’s a feeling in my soul
a quiet, dreadful haunting
that this dies uneventfully.
Like the anticlimactic withering of the last flowers before the frost.
That one day
we just realize it’s been awhile,
but neither one of us really has anything to say.
And the final petals fall
without anyone really noticing
at all.

There once was a boy
who told me they must have cried when I left home,
"I bet the entire state cried for you."
He'd said.
"because a girl like you must be once in a lifetime,"
and he'd keep me around if it killed him..
he'd promised.
"After all, girl.
he'd said
I'm a snake charmer.."
And at that, he had rolled up his sleeve,
to reveal the grayscale serpent baring it's fangs,
wrapped around his forearm.
He made that joke a lot.
Over he course of falling for me.
"Don't forget, babe.."
"I'll break a girl like you eventually.."
And I'd laughed and wish him the best of luck,
after all,
that's the polite thing to do,
in scenarios like these.
He would go on to tell me,
that he knew what to do
with a "body like mine."
He would make them wish they had never let me leave.
Whatever the ****,
he'd thought that meant.
And I let him believe that,
until the day that he didn’t.
Because really,
from the beginning,
we both knew no one was crying over me.