I'm still in love with you.
Except, I don't know how to be.
Or how not to be.
I think a stupid part of me will always love you.
I think a stupid part of me will always be yours no matter how many times I've asked for it back.
I can lie to everyone, lie to myself, until I'm here in bed alone asking myself why I can't be alone without you in my brain.
Every part of me misses you.
It's my ***** little secret, I suppose, but
You were my soul mate.
You were supposed to be my happily ever after.
My dork in tinfoil with eyes like the ocean.
The eyes that held me behind bars for so long, terrified to move.
I want so badly to be a part of your life again,
I want so badly to be everything to you again.
I want so badly for you to miss me like I miss you,
But I guess it was all in my head.
The four years that we spent together an endless nightmare of the wait for the end.
And you ended it.
I so badly want for the words "I can't do this anymore" to be erased from your memory like a daydream you lost track of.
I want you to love me.
I want "I love you" whispered in my ears again.
I want you to be sick over the fact you lost me.
I don't think you're sick over the fact you lost me.
Our love was a sick game of loving too much and having too little.
I love you so much.

Your eyes like the ocean, like the waves, like the sky, like a nice blue sports car. Things that are beautiful in passing, but are dangerous up close.

Danger. Loving you was danger.

You set me on fire, burning my body, burning through my brain. Passionate fire, then hot fire, then ******* I'm actually hurt fire. I still have the scars.

What I'm left with is dark and empty, unable to love another. Whispers on wind of what we used to be, secrets. I wasn't made to be a ***** little secret. I'm not your ***** little secret.

I loved you. All consuming love. Love like only a 17 year old knows. Love like only an 18 year old can hold. Love like only a 19 year old can endure. Love like only a 20 year old can let go.

I used to be sick over it. I used to wait for it. And now I've let go of it. Rain from the gray skies that are so like your eyes in the dark. Rain washes away everything I've remembered.

(M)aybe this doesn't come easy to me
(Y)es, I know I've done this before

(M)aybe there is more to see
(I)n all, I can give you more
(R)ead into this what you will
(A)sk me for my heart
(C)alm it though, keep it still
(L)ay in wait for your part
(E)verything comes down to a kiss

His voice is where I find solace. With no arms to hold me I find peace in words. In "you make me happy." In "I'll be home soon."

And he will be home soon. And I am scared that the damaged parts of me will be too damaged.

I find comfort in knowing that a face I've needed to see will be within kissing distance. But will he want to kiss me? Up close and personal for the first time in months, both with fresh scars from fresh heartbreak.

He wears his scars behind a uniform, and mine are as clear as day on my face.
My heart is his if he wants it, and I am afraid that he won't. But I'm easily in love, easily ready to admit it to myself, but I won't admit it to him. There's too much damage there, too fresh of wounds to break open.

But hey, I love him. I love him. I'm not hiding behind it anymore. I'll admit it right now.

We are a collection of our own experiences. A destruction of our own making, we undo ourselves with what we've learned, unlove ourselves with what we've learned.

I have looked in the mirror to a stranger too many times for my liking. The girl that I became mirrored back in agony to the girl she wanted to be. She wanted to be a poet, she wanted to be a portrait. She wanted to be stronger.

My experiences have become me. But I don't want to be defined by broken hearted and tormented by my dreams. I don't want to be defined by the dark circles under my eyes, the heart beat in my ears. I wanted to be stronger.

I have looked in the mirror too many times and seen stranger, seen liar, seen a girl who kept too much bottled up and my demons creep behind me like the horror movies I'm so akin to watching. They wave hello like they belong and I have to break my stare.

The poet in me says this is another experience, another lifeline, another tether to the earth that I love so much. An earth that I love so much that it broke me.

The poet in me says this experience will make me stronger.