I found myself on my bedroom floor,
dizzy from seven beers I stole from my dad,
thinking I could replace your memory with alcohol.
when I forgot my name before yours,
I tried emptying my veins,
but watching my blood run down the sink brought no closure.
my lips are cracked and my skin is rough;
your hands left burn marks where you touched me
and your kisses took every ounce of moisture from my mouth.
I know you're not the one I'm looking for
but I'm so cold and a fire is a fire;
I might be drunk right now but I'll still wake up
wanting to kiss you.

Silence is not keeping quiet
because you have nothing
to say...

Silence is having a lot
to say but no desire
to speak...

I find it beautiful
all the ways you can
express how much
you love someone.
1. "Put your seatbelt on."
2. "Get some sleep."
3. 3 am text: are you awake?
4. "Did you get home safe?"
5. "Watch your step."
6. "How are you feeling?"
7. "I listened to your favorite song."
8. "Let me drive you home."
9. "Please be safe."
10. "Do you need company?"
Open your ears,
and pay close attention.
Because my dear I'm sure,
that somebody out there
loves you.

It was not a heart, beating.
That muted boom, that clangor
Far off, not blood in the ears
Drumming up and fever

To impose on the evening.
The noise came from outside:
A metal detonating
Native, evidently, to

These stilled suburbs nobody
Startled at it, though the sound
Shook the ground with its pounding.
It took a root at my coming

Till the thudding shource, exposed,
Counfounded in wept guesswork:
Framed in windows of Main Street's
Silver factory, immense

Hammers hoisted, wheels turning,
Stalled, let fall their vertical
Tonnage of metal and wood;
Stunned in marrow. Men in white

Undershirts circled, tending
Without stop those greased machines,
Tending, without stop, the blunt
Indefatigable fact.

**** you.

His words were lies through teeth, and I should've known. Oh, I should've lnown.

Uncanny eyes, and stupid flattery, and how he made me feel so unique.

It's all so dumb, isn't it? I let him in despite my better judement, and started writing about his habit of never finishing cigarettes.

How he took whiskey in chipped glasses, and the bitter alcohol tasted like his own blood. And how things were always a demsotration of power, control, carelessness- rough hands and champagne smiles, and splinted knuckles, and mignight kisses.

And I guess now I know how much a person can realy ******* over.