I’ve been around long enough
to know these wounds don’t heal.
I will wake up tomorrow
and put down half a bottle
of hydrogen peroxide,
hoping the void inside
my chest won’t get infected.
This ribcage is missing
more than just bones.
The black hole I met
in my living room
decided to stay for dinner.
He said you’re doing great.
I poured another glass
of regret and told him
that’s ironic.
I’ve realized this is just what
“okay” has become;
fists embedded in sheetrock promises,
sitting alone in the rooms where
everyone told me they would stay.

Here I am, looking up causes for headaches
at 1 am
when I know it will always come back to you.
My hands found the bottom of the ocean
as I cleaned old movie tickets out of my car today.
I can see your honesty from here.
It took my composure on its way out the door.
I’m not bitter anymore.
I’m just tired.
And I’m tired of being so tired.
I’m sorry you didn’t stay.
I’m sorry that I apologize
for all the times you didn’t.
I keep forgetting these things
are not one-sided,
and so,
I’m sorry I gave you everything
for nothing in return.
You tasted like love,
and I was parched.
Still am.

I don't know much,
but I can tell you what "whole" looks like.
I've seen it stumble forward
with weary eyes and tired hands.
Come close,
I will hand you a mirror
and tell you to look carefully.
Can you not hear the galaxies
beneath your skin?
They paint in whispers
that even oceans cannot grasp.
I know it took a hurricane and two floods,
but there is soil in your ribcage;
your scars told me so.
Don't mind them though,
they're just reminders
that you love harder than anyone else.
I know you might feel hollow,
but there is a reason your heart
has lofted ceilings.
Never forget how you fought
for all that space.
Look carefully.
These gray skies inside your lungs
are simply a canvas,
and you rain so beautifully.
Oh darling,
you rain so beautifully.

I opened the blinds.
I took a deep breath.
I reminded myself that I exist.
I let you go.

It was a routine morning.

You know, I almost called the other night.
Almost.
I’d like to think that
you would’ve almost picked up,
and I would’ve almost said something.
It’s a good thing I’ve almost lost your number;
I could get lonely someday
and forget that you almost wanted to stay.
I forget a lot nowadays.
I almost called the other night, you know.
But I’ve learned that “almost”
only counts in “I love you’s”
and “goodbye’s”.
Maybe I’ll almost sleep tonight.
It’s strange that I keep dreaming
about the night we walked around the city.
I always end up on the park bench
by your house,
waiting.
I’ve almost stopped wishing you’d show up.

my hair's getting long, love
about as long as you would have liked
long enough to pull and squeeze
when we shared our kaleidoscopic bliss at night

people i haven't seen in a while
all have something to say
"hey man, i didn't know that was you!" they joked
last night as i set up my gear on stage

i'm glad you asked me to grow it, my fallen love
it's getting to the perfect length;
long enough to make me invisible
but long enough to give me strength

you see i always wanted to be a ninja
wear the ponytail of a samurai
i always thought it would just be cool
but last night i discovered why:

so i can be invisible to your love, my dear
like a ninja in the night
my hair will guide me right past you
without getting caught in the light

i'll slip right through your fingers
as my hair would slip through yours
using every new millimeter of every follicle
to remind me how long I can be strong for

the next time i see you, sweet dream
you won't even recognize me, i pray
i can only hope my heart won't be made of stone,

and just maybe

you'll be in the mood to talk to strangers that day