Over the years,
  I have learned that I am fantastic at fixing lonely.
  So fantastic, I often forget my own lonely.
Some times me and lonely sit together.
  Burning pictures of our enemies.
Which look a lot like me.

The years add up
But you never truly forget  
Just cover it up
with leaves, some brush
an old sheet or blanket
A drive
a new route around
Sometimes an old box in a closet
or under a bed work fine
to hide the time

until the winds of seasons change
bare it all again

..and there's never any tissues around

I should've just said no.
But I've never been good at that.

It burns when you message. It makes me cry when you call. I can't think. It feels like I'm in a hole. Again. Seven years later. You still message. You still call. I just stopped answering. You still twist my emotions. You still hurt with every word. I'm not yours anymore. But it still hurts....

I want something other than ****
with the short shorts showing
everything
the low-cut crop top
exploring eyes wander over
on countless evenings
my imagination having nothing
left

I want smokey flannel
a two-day-old pony tail
boots stained by the dirt and grass
a hole in your jeans
that wasn't there when you found them

I want hungover-fastfood-drive-throughs
with my shorts and your tank top
wrinkled from your floor
your hair still wet from the morning shower

I want leggings, a t-shirt
and a backwards ball cap
while we sing loudly out the open window
tapping the dashboard off-beat
hand raised fingers pointing at the moon
laughing at the man that sits watching us drive