We were just friends that had ***.
That's what
your roommate said. I'm in two
minds. He was never in the bed
as we lay, heads pressed
against each other, singing stupid duets.

We were just friends that had ***.
Then why can't you be a good friend?
Remember
the jokes, the little kisses?
The sitting and listening and clothes
that smell of you
lying on the floor of my room?

Is that why you left?
With no second thoughts or regrets,
with no loss felt for the way you could
wrap your hands around my chest
and almost touch fingers? You said
I was pretty. But considered your feelings
and we were just friends who had ***.

Two months is a long time. I'm
desperately clutching at lives
so recently made I can barely
believe they are memories.

The past can't change,
but the present is flippant.
I'm holding my breath in.
Do not disturb.

My bedroom is a prison cell,
I'm pressing my hands to the windows.
I don't want to leave.
There are bad things out there.

There's a pain in my teeth.
I do wish you would just come here,
into my room and lay down beside me.
Allow me some dignity, tell me you're sorry.

I'm angry at everything, drowning
in conflicted reasoning. All I do
is count down the days to something,
and pray it's better than waiting.

HR told me I look
like **** and sent
me home. I was supposed
to give up the drink
but I couldn't think of anything
else to do.
I am good at my minimum wage
job but I'm
not good at life.
Maybe it's quitting time.

I remember not being sad,
I wonder what it was like.

Seeing you was horrifying,
and I missed you so much.

Stopped dead in my tracks
"Hi?"

Do you even know who I am?
You couldn't like me

I can't even stand myself.
I can barely stand at all,

it's secret vodkas in the dish pit.
It's drinking until I'm sick

trying to ***** out the black tar
that lines my insides.

Cracking open.
I feel the
skin give way like
fractured marble.

Porcelain.
Your words a sledgehammer.
My thoughts like
moisture under years-old warping
floorboards.

I touch my pen
to paper and the ink is blood,
it rushes out into a little
puddle.
I miss when I cut myself
and let out steam.

You left
your things behind.
You didn't say
goodbye. Why
am I surprised?
They always leave.

I light my cigarettes backwards,
spit out my coffee with nervous
laughter. Hands shake,
you make my chest ache.
I don't pretend
to make good decisions.

My lungs still expand
for the time being. My heart
still beats if it's bleeding.
I still eat junk food,
drink Red Bull, kiss you—
I could kick these bad
habits if I had to.