everything within me calls out to you
-
my thighs burn with flames growing nightly
your head fits between them perfectly with my hand resting peacefully in your hair
my hands vacant without yours
my ******* lack the little memories you like to leave on them
my tears too scared to fall without the safety of your fingers caressing them
my stomach an easel for your hand tracings and a pillow for your head
oh how we laugh when it growls
-
your name begs on its knees to be called in every sentence i say
my words long to fit around it, be its mold
your lips have teased me with that crooked smirk and that tongue peaking out with the most mischievous intentions
-
come.

suddenly my fingers have decided to dance across my keyboard
let them form what they may
-
you, you pretty boy
i've been avoiding writing this and making it out to you
as if you were a treasure i'd found in a cave or cove that i couldn't bare to lose
as if you'd brought me so much fortune and happiness
but really you were more of a leech
not letting me go and keeping me within your sights
giving me an inch, a speck of your attention, a sliver of you
-
you kept me up at night
the way you'd run across the mind
never leaving but instead made yourself too comfortable
interjecting when anyone else thought of coming into the palace you'd built for yourself
-
i was crazy about you
despite you being a walking log of inconsistencies and disappointments with your random texts and acts of closeness
despite you hurting me so much with your constant returns and empty sentences because you've never had enough to say
-
still i just couldn't bring myself to say or even think anything negative about you.
i wanted to keep my faith in you, that you'd let me in the murky waters you'd surrounded yourself with.
even now there's still this atomic size of hope i've kept locked away for you
-
for so long i wanted to remain mature, the bigger person, the adult
but i'm only 17
so, in that case
-
******* and *******.

i'm so used to someone cutting me off or just the lack of attention to what i'm actually saying
that now i'm almost scared when people really listen to me
i wait for the punchline of their sick joke and their gutwrenching laugh that will soon follow
*
every word is a risk

you play at the edges of my mind
taking more of me every time you come
there is no prevention i could take against you
i've put trees along my coastlines by thinking of other people, putting on movies, doing work
i've even tried deleting your name, shoving it down to my murky depths
i hoped you'd stay there for everything you've made me feel
but you simply refuse to be forgotten
you only come back stronger with every tide

if i am to die soon
don't let my one of my so-called friends paint me as this happy person because they never bothered to check up on me.

don't let them try to joke about if i would've liked the color of the casket
or say any of the cheesy ****

no
you don't feel my presence, you feel your guilt seeping through and want to change our last interaction to offer you some kind of comfort

no
i'm not an angel in the sky looking down on you.
i'm dead.
don't try to find comfort in my death.
fathom the darkness that will keep me better than you ever could.

as you sit there with my absence
i hope you're slapped by the heavy silence just i was from all the dark nights spent crying in my room wondering what was wrong with me.

everyday i dive.
i've gotten so good at it, i don't even need the practice.
not to brag or anything but i don't even need to warm-up.
i get my legs ready to kick, and my arms ready to open themselves to the vastness of the cold, rough water.
nothing goes through my head as i do it, and i submerge myself just enough not to go too far...
                      *                        
And as the bell rings, I pick up my things, and prepare for the next trip out to sea.