i hate katie
for making you
cry, and i
hate your mom
for making
you feel like
you deserved
what you got,
but mostly,
i hate that
you and i
are so far
apart, that
i've become
your last -
resort call

i want to
be your best
friend again

i am done cutting off parts of myself
to give to you,
only to watch you rearrange me
to look more like her.

i'm haunted by my past,
but i don't want to be
someone else's ghost.

we have listened to the
same three albums over
fifty times, and i am
running out of way to
avoid telling you the truth

sometimes i like to pretend
that if you had bound books
in some life before this,
i was the story
you (again and again)
continued to stitch.

and when i was finished,
you would brush my spine softly
then unravel me,
just to piece me
back together again.

i'm not sure if it
is selfish to say,
or if i deserve to
say this after
all this time, but

i love you,
i love you

we could have fallen in love.

under different circumstances
(if i were there or
you were here)
we would have been something
                                           beautiful,
because you're the boy
who writes me poetry that
makes me feel
not so alone,
and i'm the only girl who's ever felt
so sure about a boy like
you.

it's a shame distance is the only line
i don't know how to cross.

she tells me i am
magnificent
and when she
looks at me the
way she does,
for a moment,
i feel like it

then you were gone)

                                        and all of a sudden
i felt my bones turn to dust
&i; became nothing more than the
distance between two dirt roads
that led to a dream i could never quite reach.

i became nothing, which scared the me that
used to be something, until something was nothing
but a memory.  but

nothing could see all of the universe
at the height of the swing set and
one single-cell world underneath something's
fignernail.

i am still nothing,
and nothing is okay with that.

but even though i can hold all of space
within the palm of my nothing hand
i still can't learn how to breathe at night
when all my lungs can find is an undisturbed silence
and my last remaining memories of you.

benjamin tells me that
i should take my anxiety and
hold it away for a while,
let the restlessness build up
and then channel the overwhelming
into a sense of euphoria,
my own twisted high

and i don't know how, but
i will try my best for him,
i will try my best,
i will try

i don't have the capacity
to love as you do.