i always came over wearing silver and black
and you always wore something purple and insisted it be noticed
even if it wasn't noticeable

but i didn't care.

i used to date boys who cried wolf and kissed poorly
******* in dugouts
high holiday hook ups and lackluster dates

but i don't care.

you bruised my ***** bone
and ego
and surprisingly, my heart

but i hardly care.

or, at least, that's what i keep insisting.

when i get ****** my hair feels greasy because i broke my sobriety when you broke my heart
not that i was really sober
or somber
or helpful, even
but at least you liked to hold me.

i accidentally re-read conversations about The One Before The One Before You
and felt sick to my stomach because of the disgust in my voice
and his lack of awareness
and the fact that i didn't even know you then but i already can feel myself
saying your name though those words.

this feels so millennial, talking about you/me/him/us through a keyboard
into the internet (if the wifi ever works) where you'll probably never see
but strangers will but i just want to tell you in person that
i want you back.

they're gonna play spin the bottle tomorrow and i hope you sit next to me
or don't play
so i don't have to feel weird if it lands on you and you don't wanna kiss me even if i wanna kiss you.

I feel so ******* weird like
buy a pack of cigarettes weird like
I ate too much pizza and cake weird like
when was the last time I thought about my ex weird like
how soon is too soon to be in love weird like
got a job at a fast food chain restaurant that I can't even eat at weird like
I have to figure out how to pay the rent and electric bill before next week weird like
I'm gonna chain smoke because my new fast food job says I can't and I have to get it out of my system weird.

my shoes are disintegrating beneath my feet
but i keep walking towards you.

5 days of bruises are built up and browning
on my notably translucent skin; i wear low-cut shirts to show them off.
there's no sorrow in my voice when i talk about your
astral body running astray across my rotting bones; i finally feel small.
601 days lost to bicycle handles and bloating bellies full of fear and sometimes cake; i don't remember before.
before, i'd get picked up and ****** up, an ultimatum in an altima; i thought it wouldn't end.
at 8 am i talked about the boy whose knowledge was so vast it overwhelmed him and took him across highways, barefoot, and out of my life; i forgive but only in abstract.

i dont think about hold your hand
only
holding your hair back when you *****.

im always around
always down
yellow teeth and brown eyes
(surprise)