i hope you think of me sometimes still.
i hope that when you're driving in your car and hear a love song, it reminds you of me, and how you would sing to me at night.
i hope that when you're playing guitar, you remember how i told you i wish i could watch you play.
i hope that when you sit down on your bed that i never had a chance to lay with you in, you straighten out the sheets and picture me in your head.
i hope that when you hear my name somewhere, you feel a rush of what we had, and wonder what i've been up to.
i hope that you scroll through the contacts in your phone every now and then, thinking about calling me like you used to.
i just hope you think of me sometimes,
and maybe even miss me a little bit,
because i miss you.

I always let you walk all over me
Like I’m the actual ground you walk on
But I’m tired of the ******* footprints
That you leave on my heart
Thanks to you now I’ll never be the same
For I have the footsteps of a coward left on my soul

I accidently poured winter
into your tea.
and I think you've caught a chill.
I wish I could have warned you,
but I'm colder than any frostbite
you will ever have.

Every night I spend alone knows your name.

I try to remember your promises;
you carried them in your back pockets.
And I think that if I were to check your
laundry,
I'd still find them waiting in your
shorts,
unfulfilled.

I try to remember what you looked like
the last time I saw you;
how her name was waiting on your lips,
hanging in the air between us
like a thread waiting to be cut.
I remember how you loved my body
and pitied my mind,
and fell asleep with the door open.

I walked home in the snow,
but it was warmer
than laying next to you.

if i was her, i’d ask about
all of the scars on your hands.
i would trace every callus on your palms
and wonder how life could have been
so cruel
towards someone like you.

if i was her, i'd ask why
you are so self-destructive
towards your own beauty
and wonder how you could be so blind
so naive
to think i didn't love you completely.

all in a hurl of memories
now i understand
why storms
are named after
people

you traced the freckles
on my back
only to know
where to hit the gun

you were made of
well-structured sentences
that broke people apart

i sat there
trying to make you love me again
like a half-blown dandelion
just a few seconds away
from being dismembered

i ate the words
that you spoke to me
now i am left
alone and starving

now i carve crescent moons
on my skin
hoping they would reflect
sunlight into the darkest
corners of my soul
that you created

every fiber of my body
could burn into ashes
yet still i would
remember how it
once felt when the
warmth of your skin
met mine

but i will not destroy
the petals of these daisies
only to know that you love me not

i know now
that i was just
one of your cigarette breaks.

Your soul is an array of colors.
Your voice makes flowers bloom happy.
You're more precious than a spring meadow.
You are full of galaxies, complexities, and contradictions which makes you a universe within yourself.
There are melodies written along your cheekbones and songs being sung through your veins.
If you open your eyes, you can see that there is a sun rising along our horizon cheering for you to be alive.
You are allowed to love, hate, and lust all in one.
You are worth everything you are being put through,
And I hope you feel euphoric, always.