I don’t hate you
I should. I don’t.
there are words and sentences even I am afraid to utter
in the comfort of my own body in a pitch black room.

all eyes are on me
I’m not doing it fast enough
I’m not over you well enough
I can’t get enough
of your mid-morning embrace and the way it felt
when your eyes were only on me.

when I found out you ****** her, you were in the back of a police car
and I was more scared for your safety than the wholeness of my heart.
correction * when I found out you ****** my best friend,
my entire world went black

you have never said I’m sorry or I love you
without it sounding like a ******* curse and I can’t explain
what it means to know I have wasted these months
getting wasted for you to ******* like me

I was happy and carefree and high
off of sugary coffee and the fluorescent thought of you and I
that imprinted itself into the back of my skull.
you were all I thought about
pleasing you was not an option, but a command.

we had our ending, a late night on the same mattress
stained with memories and the girl I left here when you kissed me
the first time. I am not happy and you do not make me happy.
you make me hurt – I look at you and feel pain.

I don’t hate you. I wish I could. I don’t.
you have given me reason upon reason to hate every inch of your skin
but I’m loosening the strings that tug on my heart to let this go.
I’m letting go of the stranger I met, who corrupted me into thinking
I could put you before myself.

I am tired of being sad that I am not what you want
I have accepted I am not what you ever wanted.
I’m going to take that as a blessing, although it is heavily disguised.

(I wrote this about two weeks ago. Update: I ******* hate you, Ryan. I will never forget what you did and who you hurt.)

I can't beat the anxiety
the way my joints shake even when I'm asleep
or how my skin itches to be scratched

every time I dig myself a little deeper

these summer days make me smile
and forget
I am happy, for a moment but in a breath
euphoria
gone.

I want it to stop
I want to stand still

tired of making promises
tired of making plans
tired of believing in something that will make this better

It doesn't exist
or if It does - it's too late.

last night I was reminded of the warmth beneath your skin
reminded of the way we match up together
reminded of your frantic kisses
down my neck and over the ripples of my collarbone.

I am reminded of your naked body pressed against mine
our skin hugging our curves, making our exoskeletons melt into one

lastly I am reminded that a part of me missed this
a very small part of me I only want to show you
and no one else.

there are city streets I have not paraded down
and stars I have not kissed beneath
there are bridges to be crossed
and burned
elevator buttons to push and flights of stairs to climb

I have a thirst to see the world
I want to scrape the corners for every last taste
I want to awake in a city I don’t belong in,
but I have potential

sometimes I think about how much time I wasted on you
wanting to be labeled as “Yours”
how silly of me to forget
what the world is holding for me outside of your arms

I believe
it was Neruda
who once said
‘Tonight
I can write the saddest lines’.
Well I guess
tonight,
I can write
books,
encyclopaedias,
libraries
and still never say enough.
You are the words in my sentence
and the poem in my pen,
even now.

this feeling just doesn’t go away,
it doesn’t run into the corner and disappear for a night
or two.
it stays and invades the ropes of my mind,
makes me hate, and love with such passion that
I know it will drive me insane.

but the worst parts are the downfalls,
for as much as I love and as much as I topple,
head over heels and body over brain,
you will still not be mine when I roll over
in the morning

and that’s slowly taking its demonic toll
on my legs as they shake all through the halls,
and my lips as they quiver when I say your name,
and my mind won’t ******* shut off anymore
not even for a night, not even when I shove it
into the corner where there’s not much light at all.