It's been a year since we talked but I know that if you called me and asked to go to coffee I'd drop everything in five seconds flat.
You told me once that you were going to lock me up so nobody else could have me and you kissed me on the forehead. I don't think you ever unlocked me though because whenever anyone's lips meet the top of my head, I shatter into a million pieces. Please unlock me.
I know you're with another girl who makes you smile more than I ever was able to, and I know that you kiss her forehead too, and you take her to coffee on her lunch break, but sometimes I see pictures of you together and I imagine your hand around my waist instead of hers.
I don't hate her. I was her, once, and I'd do anything to be able to be her again. You hold the key to my cage and if you want to come back to me I'll let you back in, I swear.

It gets easier, that's what my mom told me after the boy I would've died for pulled my heart out of my chest and watched me bury myself alive.
It gets easier to hide the tears when someone asks how you are, and it gets easier to pretend not to see them in the halls holding hands with the cute girl you always knew he liked. It gets easier to fight every urge in your body that wants to call him after you had four shots, and it gets easier to kiss the nice boy at the party who tastes like spring. It gets easier when you haven't talked to him and three months and you realize you don't think about him when you drive past the place you first held his sweaty hand. It gets easier when you can be by yourself and be okay with it.

There are letters under my bed,
Addressed to you that I never could send.
They spoke of the many nights I stayed up,
The nights when I knew you couldn't give a ****.
They are stained with coffee and tears,
And every single one of my wasted years.
I always knew something didn't feel right,
I just figured it would be fine later on at night,
I guess it was never meant to be,
I just wish you could have told me.

I know I haven't talked to you in years, I just wanted to update you on my life, five years after you walked out of it.
For a while I was okay, but it was just like the dentist, after the numbness goes away you just feel the pain you tried to hide away. Then I was mad, mad at you for leaving, mad at mom for losing herself, and mad at myself for not being able to fix it all. Then I cried, a lot. In the shower, in my bed, in the arms of the boyfriend who never would be able to understand why I was shards of glass on sad wrists. I must have come full circle in five years, because I'm numb again, but whether it's from you or the drinks I have at night to forget you, I don't know.

I don't want to dance anymore
I just want to cry
And if that makes me look like a mess
Well, I never did try.
You took all I had
Threw it against the wall
I watched as it shattered
Like it was nothing at all
It didn't matter much to me
I feel empty anyway
There wasn't much in me
I'm already in decay

I'm a mess in the supermarket, the lady down the aisle wears a worried face. I'm buying razors with mascara running down my face and she probably thinks I'm going to cut myself tonight from the safety of my bathroom. Maybe she thinks you broke my heart, maybe she's right. I'm not buying them to destroy myself with, I've learned how to do that from the inside out by now, but I've never been good with timing and execution has never been my thing so I'll let her worry about me because if I try to explain how I haven't been okay since the day you said hello to me I will leave with more wounds than I walked in with.

I'm trying so hard to get better, mom, I swear. It's just that I woke up this morning and couldn't find a single reason to get out of bed. You called last week and asked me how my anxiety is doing, as if it were a separate person entirely. It's okay though, sometimes I think it is too. I can't get out of bed because there's no good enough reason to shatter the floor with every step I take, so I hide under my covers and hope tomorrow will be better. It hasn't been, but I'm trying mom, I promise. Maybe soon I'll be able to call you back but the dial tone sends me into a panic attack so fierce that I stop breathing. I know your voice would calm me down but right now it's just too much. Keep calling, one day I'll be able to answer without crying. I love you mom, I love you so much. I'm so sorry.