i bet even after all this time
that if my chest were to
ache with emptiness enough
like it used to i could go to your house
and find the outline of our bodies
on your dark blue bed sheets
i have spent the last year
both trying to run from you
and find you at the same time
but i left everything i knew
about falling in love
on that mattress and
it's still settling there
like dust and
all i can do is write about you
until it comes back to me,
or by some kind of miracle,
you decide to.

you are still made of
the same stardust
that used to light
my entire sky

but as the sun rises
the moon must fall
and the stars only know
how to follow

Antarctic stares from Arizona eyes; white knuckles, heavy blue pores.
No, nothing changed you anymore.
Rapid touches to the abdomen, the sound of violins breathed in your mind
and he's not usually like this, you said, "He's actually really kind."

What didn't **** you, left you broken.
And you had misspoken, as your words slurred into tears that never fell,
after a fifth of alcohol and half a night of hell,
as you revealed that you thought without him you were nothing at all.
You whispered this
while I cried to you for the last time through a cellular call,
through an invisible, static, insurmountable wall.  
And I disagreed because I had seen it all:
heavy blues and brave bloodshot brown eyes,
"Please don't, I think there's more to you than you realize."

2 years ago
i was sitting on an old, ***** love seat
in a musky garage
that belonged to your mother
taking hit after hit
from a pipe made of tin foil
holding hands with you
on that love seat that had me
laughing 'till i didn't know
if i actually existed
and other times, it had me
wishing i didn't exist at all
but that first time you
pressed your lips softly into mine
it didn't feel like a kiss at all,
but more like a trigger being pulled.
for the last 2 years,
i have been stuck on that love seat
not knowing how to exist
in any other way besides
trying to find you on it but
you left a long time ago
and i don't know if i've finally
found my way home
or if i am just disappearing
as the months pass and i
forget more and more what
it felt like to have bullets
for a tongue, sitting next to you
on that old, ***** love seat

and what's worse is that
i couldn't go back if i wanted
and it may be that my life
is getting duller and greyer
every second that i
am forgetting how
to miss you.