right now there are eleven empty containers of alcohol in my bedroom,
but it's fine, i'm fine.
i've been telling myself for more than a year
that i wasn't going to write anymore sad ****** poems about you,
but here we are.
most days i'm sure i don't miss you,
but then i listen to the wrong song,
and before i know it -
i'm screaming along to band of horses in the dark,
stalking your twitter favorites,
and somehow,
i've managed to get snot on my forehead.
yeah, nostalgia is an *******
but not all the memories sting.
there was that one time we went to the movies
and i slipped on some ice and fell flat on my ***.
i just sat there while you took a picture.
but i'm glad we could laugh about it.
i'm glad we were comfortable.
in my head, we still are.
in my head, we're oversized-goodwill-sweater comfortable.
we aren't as comfortable in real life
but i'm glad we still laugh.
this is the part where i don't bring up the time you told me
my laughter could cure your sadness,
because i'm pretty sure i already put that in another poem,
and it makes me really ******* sad.
did i ever tell you i used to play guitar and piano?
i loved them, but i never tried very hard.
i wanted to be good without having to practice.
i wanted to be good without having to practice.
i wanna meet the girl you write about
so i can ask her how she manages not to love you back.
because i've tried everything & i am so tired.
i forgot this wasn't supposed to be a sad poem.
i'm not good at happy anyway,
i never have been.
but in your absence i've learned a lot about softness.
so if i ever find myself back in your passenger seat,
i won't correct you when you sing the wrong lyrics,
i won't ask why when you take the long way home.
i won't ask you why you don't have your seatbelt on,
i'll just say a silent prayer
and watch for signs that you might be about to swerve.
right now there are eleven empty containers of alcohol in my bedroom,
and i didn't find you at the bottom of a single one.

- m.f.

you are eighteen and you're in love
with a boy who hates his birthday.
you don't know it yet,
but the world gets so much bigger than the back of his car.
you think he needs you to be happy and so does he
but both of you are wrong.
it'll take you almost a year to stop crying.
and then you don't talk for another three
and when you finally do,
he thinks he still knows you,
but your heart is heavier than it was then.
and you **** him because you're lonely
but it isn't the same.
neither of you can fake love.
at least he still makes you laugh.
you'll pretend it's enough
because at least he's a body.
at least you're not by yourself.
at least you're alive
and you're good at *******.
because bodies are distractions
from the things we hide inside them.
you have him inside you
and he wants to gut you of your ugly, your sad.
he scrambles for an excuse not to stay the night
and you laugh.
you know what this is and how it goes
and you both love someone else.
you swear you won't **** him again
but you do anyway because you're still lonely
and you like the way his hands fit around your neck.
you **** him because it's good for your art
and you get bored of your own hands on your body
and you're fine with letting him feel useful.
and you think about when you were sixteen
and how *** was supposed to be special
and it makes you cry
because you're not who you wanted to be.
it makes you cry, because the world got so much bigger
after you left the backseat of his car.
the world is so big and you don't know
how it ended up on your shoulders.
you would have died for him.
you have been ready to die for every person you have ever loved.
you have dreams where he dies
and you can't save him.
you have dreams where people die
and you can't save them
and you're the one who tied your hands.
your mangled heart and all its bleeding.
nobody asked you to die.
what good is all the love in your chest
if you don't leave any for yourself?

- m.f.

Somewhere there’s a boy wishing on dead stars and lost dreams and he knows this but he keeps doing it anyway. Somewhere there’s a girl sitting by the ocean, tears in her eyes, waiting for him to finally find the note she left under the promise ring he gave her two months ago, and come save her. She’ll eventually let the tides take her and she’ll become a part of the ocean, lost in between continents, while he is somewhere up in the sky, lost in between the stars that no longer shine, wondering if she might accept the expensive diamond ring in a velvet box he worked his whole life to afford.

He said I love you, but you can't be my girl.
He said I was too valuable like a vintage car you keep in your garage and don't drive. But he said I was so beautiful he needed me in his life.

He said I was gorgeous, but he couldn't take me with him. He said I was so valuable that I was almost too fragile, and if he slipped his fingers off of me I might fall and shatter like fine glass.

He said I was brilliant, but I should lay back and relax. Let him take charge and take care of me. The best gift I could give him is my heart and he doesn't need my money.

A perfect image. Too perfect to be real. The truth was right in front of me if I would have just picked away the layers of lies. He had a woman and he only just wanted something pretty on the side. He wanted me to lean on him so I felt unable to leave.

I wish there was somewhere I could go
To be alone with the universe
To feel the stardust coursing through my veins
Lie down in my own corner of the earth
Soak into every blade of grass, emerald and jade
Generations brushed against my skin
Paint my eyes every color of the sky
Vermillion and gold and endless blue
Settle in to rest when the glory of day gives way to dusk
Pull up the cover of night around my shoulders
Quilted in black and pale moon glow
Dripped in crystal constellations
Galaxies between my fingertips
Gentle peace of eternity stretched before me
Fill my dreams with worlds unknown
Carry me away somewhere void and vast
Leave me with the stars and never look back