I. the sound of people naturally scratching their hands across their jeans. it reminds me of you ripping mine off & acting like you couldn't get enough of my lips against yours.
II. my own reflection. it makes me want to scream until I collapse & rip my skin off of my body until there's nothing left but my porcelain bones.
III. the thought of him leaving a trail of love down another girl's neck. it makes me sick to my stomach & I rather drown in ***** & my own blood than watch him slip through my fingers again.
IV. cigarette smoke reminds me of home. home being your arms. but it also makes me want to quit. I won't. so I'll let the smoke conquer me & fill my lungs until I stop breathing & they're charred to the color of ebony.
V. her smile. it floods my mind & pierces every crevasse of my being. she resembles who I used to be & the recollections of us explode like fireworks in my eyes until I can no longer see.
-o.m. // five things that **** me

you're probably going to dance with another girl who smells like fresh picked strawberries with blossoms in her hair & you're probably going to choke down seven shots of straight ***** to get the thought of me out of your head & focus on the girl that's dancing with you who wants to be your apple pie but you can't see the diamonds in her eyes because you're staring at the ones hanging around her neck & you can't feel her pull you in closer because she's reaching further behind your head of dark hair & tapping shoulders of random guys she's never even met before & I hope when this happens you run into the dingy bathroom & splash your face with ***** water & ***** up the words you never said because while you're out drowning your heart in things I shouldn't care about I'm here looking at the moon whispering how much I ******* love you & I swear to god if you take her home the moonlight will keep you awake no matter what time it is & you will watch it shine across your bedroom floor where we danced & laughed & I almost told her that you were mine & I hope the night catches your attention more than the sight of her & I hope when you wake up you remember that daisies are my favorite flower & that you can't escape the light of the moon.

I miss you. call me back & say you miss me too.
2. I found your sweatshirt in my closet. it still smells like you.
3. Last night, I was up till 4 am. I wrote down the first things that came to my mind & I just ended up writing your name over & over.
4. A stranger told me I looked pretty today but all I could think about was how you're doing.
5. I scrubbed my skin until it was bright red because I can't stand the feeling of your lips still on my chest.
6. I've tried drinking. it doesn't work. because at the end of the bottle, your voice still echoes in my head.
7. I looked in the mirror & I couldn't find myself. I miss who I was before you.
8. Everything in this box belongs to you. I don't need it anymore.
9. I got out of bed & went to the store to grab milk. my mom said she was proud of me. I wish you were too. -o.m. // nine messages I left on your voicemail

from a very young age we were taught that selling our bodies for the cheap price of a dollar beneath your pillows is okay. others resort to selling more than teeth & end up losing sleep beside an unfamiliar head upon their pillows.
blowing out candles on birthday cakes taught us to extinguish the flames we kept burning in our hearts. let the fire of hope die, just like our wishes & dreams.
we expected something in return for the simple act of being a decent person. we spent our childhood trying to be a good person just so we could find gifts galore in return for this chore of having integrity.
once a year, we'll exchange "I love you," and bouquets of flowers that will wilt away with the month. maybe that's why so many marriages break up. because this **** is makeup covering up the bland taste underneath. what is love without the roses, gold, and candy? without the chocolate, dinners, and something fancy?
as a child we are conditioned this way. so don't blame us. it's not our fault that we grew up in this place.

It no longer describes how I feel about you.
It's more than love because love is overused. It's thrown around. It's beaten. It has a bad reputation.

I could say, "I love you," and that could mean a million things. So instead, I say, "What are you doing Friday?" and "How was your day?"
I say, "Do you need new shoes? I see the holes in them," and "Your mom called to see how you're doing".

I do not say, "I love you," because I don't. I don't know what I feel, but I can tell you that it's so much more than love.

& I always thought you were my spark, but I was on fire the whole ******* time, & maybe I needed a little heat, but I would never let another person ignite me the way you did.

i.  
you see her for the first time & she will walk past you as if you are a crack in the wall & she is a skyscraper with her head so high in the air, & when you can't sleep you'll think about the way her eyes strayed into yours for a moment too long before breaking away & disappearing into the crowd of people.

ii.
she'll look both ways before telling you she loves you under her breath & when she hugs you, her eyes scan the empty room as if the walls had eyes & ears & a mouth that could give you away.

iii.
when she's curled up in your lap shaking with a mismatched heartbeat you'll wonder how someone who looked like she carried mountains on her shoulders could crumble so easily in your arms, like the tornado in her mind finally hit her & knocked her off her feet.

iv.
in half-light she'll run her fingers over your arms like she's reading words carved into your skin, binding them together into a perfect metaphor, & you'll hear them playback in your mind at 4am when your head runs wild with thoughts of her.


v.
you'll find a safe haven in rooftops & abandoned rooms where she'll set fire to your insides with hushed breathing between kisses planted perfectly on your lips & she'll make you wonder how dangerous it is to play with wild flames while your body is made of paper.

vi.
you'll stare her right in the eye & tell her that if loving her was a sin then you want no place in heaven because the way her lips fit perfectly on your neck is a paradise you'll never forget.

// the six stages of falling in love with her.