I thought about
pulling my car into the garage
putting the dog outside
and breathing in the fumes
of our past
until there was nothing left
except my lungs constricting
around faulty ideals and notions
about us
and what love really means.

I want to tell you how much I hate you
But really, I can't-
I love you too much.
And in the end,
of all of the lessons you've ever taught me,
It's that words don't really matter.
Nothing I ever did mattered.
Art fades.
Words are empty.
Promises are meaningless.
I hope he makes you *** more than I ever could.
I hope he buys you flowers more than once a month.
I hope he gets you farther away from this town
where dreams die
than you could have ever hoped for.
I hope you call him handsome
and that you think he's pretty.
Like I had to beg for.
I hope the only thing bigger than his member
is his bank account.
I hope he calls you exactly when you need him to
not always
like I used to do.
I hope you never block him out
and give him the love that you're truly capable of.
Because I never got it.
I hope you heal his wounds and
kiss him while he's asleep in your arms
because there's no place you'd rather be.
I hope that you feel the way about him
that I used to feel about you.
I hope he calls you his princess,
his dolly,
his 3 a.m.
I hope you scream "daddy"
into the blackness of your trash bag
darkened basement.
The one you used to lock me in and complain
that we never did anything.
I hope you give him all of the truths
you weren't willing to give me;
and that you mean them.
I hope you never get your heart broken.

I so much want for you to have someone
that doesn't have any responsibilities
other than you.
Because you need someone
that doesn't have lifelong friends
or a connection with their family
or worries about whether or not thier
future will be brighter than their past.
I hope he picks out a favorite freckle.
And I hope it's not the same one as me.
And if it is, I want him to love it more than I ever did.
When you argue,
which you will,
because that's who you are,
I hope he knows how to accept your anger.
Your hurt.
Your torment

and unhappiness.

The way I might have
if I was a stronger or smarter man.
The way way I do now that you're gone.

I was never your number one.
You were.
And that's what's important
in a world full of people trying to hurt you.

I've had nightmares
every single ******* night
since I lost you.
But those are not half as bad
as the good dreams my brain likes to create
to play tricks on me-
where 'forevers' meant something
and nothing mattered but each other.

Yeah, I'm a natural-born ******* loser.
I'm fat,
crying,
and screaming.
A *******-born child
to a family that didn't want me
except for one.

When you told me you cared
that you wanted to kiss me,
**** me,
love me,
while your boyfriend was
in another town
and I believed you-
that was my first mistake.

Because you can't really love
two people at once,
especially when the only person you've ever really loved is you.

Either way.
I hope you get what you need.
Because my mind
heart
body
and
stupid pitiful
******* soul
was never enough.
And it never will be.

How many more until you're full?

I hope you find the one
that wasn't me.
And that he can buy you
that house in California
on the beach.
The one with the white picket fence.
Far from yourself
and everything you've ever known.

I'm fixated on keeping my mouth busy.
Sticks of gum leave their packs like cigarettes.
An addiction.

I peel the skin from my lips
with pearlescent spades
and think about
softer edges

Your mouth
Like snow on Christmas Eve.

You taste like spiced wine
and wear ribbons of black liquorice.
Nuzzled in your neck-
I breathe cool peppermint.

We collide as galaxies.
I become clay

Your delicate hands
slide across my form
as I bend and sway
at the mercy
of your creation.

You know the way it feels when your lip busts open?
Yeah.
That's you.




Tounge swollen.

I need words that don't reflect myself.

Words that aren't empty.

Words that make you feel something.