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

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.

I inhale just enough to fill my lungs to the point
where they just might
“pop” but part of me hopes they do.
the hardest part of staying here
is not knowing where I belong afterwards.

I can’t find the right words
I apologize in advance

you sleep with one hand pressed to your cheek
I know this because the other arm is coiled
around my body.
just knowing you are not even centimeters away from me
is the very definition of safety.

I can’t find the right words
to sum up how much you mean to me.
it’s more than just words -
strung together little sentences
but rolling over in the middle of the night,
and hearing you call me “baby” in midst of your dreams
is something I’ve never had
but I think it’s called perfection

still waiting to feel the oceans that moved beneath my skin
when you touched me

still conscious of the way you wrapped your hands around my neck
so possessively, filled with a power I was suctioned to

still remembering the friction between bed sheets
the desperate and lonely kisses we shared

believe me, I'm trying to get it out of my head
I don't want you here anymore

you come walking back into my life
with grace, as I stumble around looking
for the right words that will sum up
these dusty butterflies
who are permanent
in my lungs.

how is it possible
that a hurricane like you
can cause so much trouble
when the flowers just begin to grow,
when the wind returns to the willows,
as soon as happiness finds its way
into my body, you are dancing somewhere
in my subconscious

We went from
sipping scalding coffee
in the front seats of
your car
to not even muttering
a bitter “hello”
in the supermarket.

I can’t explain what you mean
to me within twenty-six letters
of the alphabet. You were a
“big deal”. We were delusional
and blinded,
but that doesn’t mean
I put you in past tense

maybe it’s the mystery
the devilish gleam in your eye
when you receive
from them
from her
from me

I am forcing these words out of my throat
making them bubble in the pit of my esophagus.
I am terrified to bleed these words of red
because the stains will remain long after the sentences fade

maybe it’s the crooked, toothy grin
and the mischievous chuckle that goes hand in hand
or perhaps it’s the way you lick your lips
before stating an opinion
or I don’t know, maybe it’s how soft your stubble can be
when it’s scraping against the inside of my jaw

what I feel isn’t valid because there have been two hundred before me
and I can’t be blinded by thinking that there won’t be more after me

he dove in first,
and the blue hugged his hips like a blanket underwater.
it thanked him, blessing his body with its tongue,
as if he was its reason in being blue.
I followed him, only seconds later –
left my conscience with my clothes on the brink of the pool,
joining him in the middle of the deep end.
the water enveloped our bodies, and wrapped him
in its own set of linens, kissing him goodnight and
laying him down to rest.
I watched, as it swallowed him whole. it filled our bones with whispers.
I felt his fingers tug at my toes, and I let my body sink
down to the point where my ears popped
and my joints dislocated, underneath the surface
of the swimming pool.
the hum of the filter sang its own song, echoing from the surface down,
releasing some of the pressure that had built up on my freckled shoulders.
I matched my soul to his, and tried to reassure myself
that even though it was after midnight,
the promise of the day still lingered on our sun-spotted skin.
as rain pelted the top of the water,
it shattered the reflection the moon had created on the glass.
I tried to find your heart in the deep murk,
but unable to find mine first – I sank.