i wish i was a cigarette
you had someone else buy for you at 7 eleven
i wish i was what you wanted to fill your lungs with
i wish i was more important to you than oxygen
even if just for a moment
i wish i was the one you'd turn to when you felt alone
and i was what ran through your veins when you were alone in the dark
i wish i was as lethal as nicotine, wish you were addicted to me
i wish i was the last *** in the carton,
the one you kept tucked deep in your pocket
because you loved it so much,
didn't wanna burn it up and turn me to ashes
you just kept me close to you
and twirled me between your fingers when you got fidgety
i wish you'd ignite me and watch me burn
if it meant your happiness
but you just ******* out and a way
like smoke into the night

all i know is
it's getting harder and harder
to pretend like
i'm fine with being your
just friend
when every time i pass you
and you smile at me
and your lips part
and your mouth opens
all i can think about
is slamming my lips against yours
until i cannot see the image of his lips touching yours
anymore
and you are bruised with my love
because all i know is
the evening you kissed me
last summer
by my front door
i felt every nerve ending ignite with fire
and i could hear music in my head
like a movie
and i couldn't get the taste of your chapstick out of my mouth for 3 whole days

i try to tell myself
i only fell for you so hard
because you were the first person to ever show me affection like that,
to ever hold my hand when i was anxious
or bring me chocolate when i had stomach cramps,
or skip class with me just to wander hallways
you were this far-gone kind of crazy,
like you were on cloud 9 and you could fly
and when i was with you, that's where i was too
but my cloud got heavier and yours stayed afloat
and i fell back to earth while you drifted away
and now i can't help but feel like
no one ever fit between the spaces of my fingers so perfectly
like yours did
i could never walk so casually, swing our intertwined hands and not care that everyone was watching us
and i pass you in the hallways and i get anxious,
because you say hello and it takes me so long register that it's you
that i don't even have time to say anything back
and she can tell that i am anxious, that i'm biting at my nail as if i am trying to rip it right off of my skin, so she grabs my hand
but it's a struggle to get it just right, and even then somehow it is not right
my arm is stiff and she's trying to help me forget what made me anxious
but all i can do is notice how different it feels and the ridges of her skin are not yours
and it feels nothing like you and
oh, god please just come back because i miss you and you are right there
but we don't talk like we used to and i doubt i'll ever get to kiss you again
and the seasons are changing and you were right there with me last year when this happened
said you understood, knew how the seasons change some people like they are leaves
i turn into the prettiest of colors in autumn, but i'm slowly slowly slowly falling down, breaking off and
dying
buried beneath all of this forewarned snow
they say it's going to be a harsh winter and i can't imagine anything being harsher than
memories of getting slapped in the face on christmas eve and
remembering panic attacks on new years eve, shaking and crying and trying to clean up my basement at 1 am
somehow this all seemed easier last year,
i didn't shake all the **** time and i didn't receive that pitiful look from my therapist and the depression seemed more manageable and i seemed less detached
but now i am beginning to realize
that without your hand to hold,
the spaces between my fingers are going to swallow me up

I quite like
sitting cross legged
barefoot
in the passenger seat
of my mom's Honda.
When the air is humid and warm,
summer is rising out of the darkness that
encompassed me this winter,
and I was so distracted
I missed spring.
I like hearing
the audible gasp
in a movie theater
or
noses sniffling, tissues being exchanged by strangers
because
for once
I know that these people
are feeling the same way I am
and that I am not
alone.
I like hearing your quiet snores beside me
after we've fought
because you did not get mad enough to leave
and I'll work it all out tomorrow
I promise.
I like feeling
the kick drum resound in my heart
at concerts
because I can feel it
and it is there
and I may have to get away from the crowd
but it is still music,
it is still passion
I am still there.
I like when you've just cut your hair
and I know you hate it
because you must have told me a thousand times
how they ******* messed it up
and ****, you are so angry
but I am distracted
because I am seeing your eyes
for the first time;
and they are a jungle
and I am tangled up in your branches.
I like crying over trivial things
like movies and books and the way you looked before you got onto the plane,
because that means that I am not caught up
in the urge to drag a razor across my skin
or all the things that I have held myself back from.
I like unfocusing my eyes
and clearing my thoughts
so all I can hear is music
and not drown in my own thoughts
for once.
I like falling in love
with someone I cannot have
because the fear of rejection
is not there
and I can love wholly
and completely
because he will never know me
and this makes me feel content.
I like being unextraordinary
and leaving no mark on this town
except for maybe
an empty soda can on the stage of the park and
crushed, unlit cigarettes
because
it will be easier for me to get away
and no one will remember me
or the way I liked the weird things.

it's never
'what should i do'
with you
it's always
'what do i want to do'
and it always has been
even when we were younger
and we played horse
i was always the horse
i was the support
and everyone looked at you
above me,
those stars in your eyes
as i held you up for everyone to admire you
maybe this is how it was always meant to be
maybe this will be forever
but you can't just
choose to **** up a life like this
i can't pick up the pieces if they are too broken
too broken, too strong
too stubborn to be smart about any of this
i don't know how you've survived this long,
cigarette smoke floating out the window like
the way you left the way you used to be
for your new skin
a little too tight, a little too tough
blame it on anyone you want,
blame it on me, your parents, yourself
no one is listening to you anymore.
you've lost all control you've been fighting to keep
for this many years
no one will believe what you say, no one will take your word for it
not anymore
it's my word now, the weight has fallen onto my shoulders
as you are too weak and not willing to keep it
yes, i am chosen now
to be the strong one
the support

if you were the sun and he were the moon
he'd die every day just to let you breathe
and if you're in need of a home for your broken heart
he'd make a house out of sticks on the beach, where you could live happy ever after
he'd live for you, he'd die for you, he'd do it all over again for you
he'd study the way your eyes roll back when he said something cliche
just as you'd watch the cigarette hang off his lips like a circus show in an artificially lit gas station
he'd rub little circles on your hand when introducing you to his friends because you were nervous
he'd fight off all the little demons dancing in your head by spinning you around his room like a ballroom floor
he'd say 'i love you' even if he knew those words couldn't hold you together forever
he'd say them for him, for you, for the nights ahead where you're miles away thinking of laying on his bedroom floor
you'd say 'don't' and he'd kiss you in the middle of your sentence to lengthen the limit of your forevers
he'd hold on to your wrists when you tried to slam his door, he'd let you hit him when you were angry
he'd climb up in the sky and hang off the edge of the crescent moon, and he'd reach up to grab a star to bring back down for you
he'd rearrange the constellations and align the planets to be just like you'd always dreamt about
he'd feel a pain in his stomach when the sun caught the tint of your hair the first day you said goodbye
he'd call you just to hear your voice on the answering machine, because you would never pick up
he'd stay with old friends just to ask how you've been, and feel an emptiness when he found out you were doing just fine
a boyfriend, an apartment, and a disease called growing up that you'd whispered you'd never catch one summer night
he'd do it all for you
if you just
let him in