You've got stars in your eyes
And dew drops on your cheeks
You wake every mornin'
At a quarter to three
In a valley somewhere
You decided you needed to be

And you never call me
But I still hear your voice
Like ghosts on a stairwell
Just making noise
And I cannot let myself dwell

Cause if I stay too long
I just might drown
in the space you left
In the chatter around
My heart beats in time
To the records you played
But I'm still all alone
At the end of the day
Unless you can count your ghost

the worst kind of crying
is that film residing in your throat
glazing over your vocal chords.
your stomach is twisted
into tiny intricate knots, triple tied.
your eyes bead in the corners,
glistening but not dripping.
you feel that you will never
be as sad as this moment.
your brain shuts off
a failed attempt to detach itself
from the veins fusing and tightening
stars heighten without blinking.
you have become so unaware of your actual body
the sadness eats away
at whatever remains. and even then
you are much too empty
to be dissembled.

You made me feel as though I was wrong
For needing air in my lungs
Love in my heart and
Reassurance somewhere inbetween.

and it's taken me two years but I think I finally get it
it wasn't the forced laughter or the radio silence
it wasn't that every time I needed you, you never picked up your phone
too busy talking to God as usual
while I was screaming his ear off about you
you
and your white teeth and ambiguous intentions
you caught me numb on your kitchen floor
laughing in your old clothes when we're alone together praying that this time this side of you would stay
and for once you do
until there's someone new to impress or I just need to talk to someone at 1am
apathetic until something in the way of my being applies to you
and just like a kid you'll sit me down line our pieces up and try to convince me we're the same
you shoved the pieces that wouldn't quite fall into place under the couch and color coordinated and combined with no true knowledge of the picture
just like a little kid hell bent trying to please a parent
you tried to fit your life in mine but you never quite realized that I am not a puzzle and you are not a part of me
and it's taken me two years but I think I can let you go
I'm done driving to your house
I'm done watching you on social media intently trying to understand who you are and why the hell you do what you do
and it's been two whole years of passive aggressive talk contrasting quiet afternoons on your floor or blue nights spent driving around the city
it was below thirty but you let me roll my window down and so I could breathe the frigid air and tangle my wrists in the power lines
it all boils down to a simple statement:
you were there until you weren't
until it didn't revolve around you
you didn't want a friend you wanted an adventure like the pictures you pin on your wall
like the mindless **** you fill your head with to appear tragic and interesting
and I understood when you brought your new friends to my birthday
unannounced
uninvited
cold
and I saw pictures the next day of them in all of the places we used to frequent in the summer when I gave up on substance and just wanted someone to be with
and I know that the world belongs to everyone
but those nights belonged to us
quiet
secret
hot blue in a sea of navy and gold
like words whispered into a lover's shoulder
and when I saw the pictures I just kind of knew
that you never understood a ******* word of anything I said when I talked about how moments like these inevitability fall through or the cracks of existence or whatever
and you left early because they wanted to go and I smiled and said it was fine
you didn't get it
but I think I do now
it's only taken me a couple years or so.

My mother never taught me anything?
Her soul was gentle
Never treated my body as a shameful object
I was not told to wear another layer
For shoulders were distracting
My ******* were not caged
Because they were mine and I loved them
And how could loving yourself be wrong?

My father never taught me anything?
His arms never held shut doors
So that my short skirt could not get through
I asked if I looked beautiful
He would always tell me so
Not throw me a pair of pants and demand I change
I smiled at my reflection
Why would he change that?

Parents can teach you only so much
Math, science, English, manners
But to love your body
The parts people shame you to cover
Is the best thing a young girl could ask