I wanted it to be me.

And then I prayed
that you'd fall for my eyes.

Even after everything,
I love you.

You are gone,
yet you remain.

Maybe I can
stop loving you;
yet I have no desire to do so.
And I know that even with all
the strength in this world trying to resist,
I would still love you.
You are my weakness.

I wish I could
engrave every broken promise
in to my skin
and fashion a tic mark
for every time I
thought it would be
easier for everyone
if I were to disappear.
Then my body
would showcase my mind
and no one would say,
"It isn't that bad."
My body would become
the most melancholy work
of art and there would
be more important questions
than what Mona Lisa's smile hid.
I would become my mind;
a compilation of heartache and pain.
I am a body that once believed that
life was 3 parts sweet
1 part bitter,
but that soon realized all I
could taste was the mistakes I'd
made and the disappointments
I've created for so many.

Since you hung up the phone,
I've replayed all your words in my mind
and wondered if you cried that night.
And all I've thought about is the way your voice sounds
from across the country
and the way my heart hurts
imagining your hands in hers.