I bet you’ve found the girl of your dreams.
*******, a perfect *** that she’s worked for in the gym for 10 years.
Long blonde hair and clear skin.
Tall and tan because she grew up in Florida.
I bet she’s rich from daddy’s money,
and barely calls you because she’s “independent.”
I bet you make sure she finishes every time you make love and are gentle and kind in a way you never were with me.
I bet you’re already planning on marrying that girl some day.

I hope she breaks your heart.
I hope she cheats on you with everyone you know.
Your best friend, someone you trust.
I hope you can’t sleep or eat and cry for months.
I hope she ruins your self esteem and makes you swear off ever trying again.
Like you did to me.

I know you apologized and swore you’d never do anything so horrible again, and I wish I could say I’m happy for the girl who will get everything I ever wanted..
but it doesn’t help knowing I’m the only one you ever felt deserved to be treated like garbage.

I hope she ***** your dad.

I don’t talk about it much,
because I can’t figure out how to write
about it.
It still stings like a thousand bees,
takes my breath away like a kick to the gut.
I can feel my brain get lost,
“wait, what’d you say, sorry.”

I am an alien among humans,
like I’m acting in a movie it doesn’t feel like I’m sitting there.
If I’m not busy busy busy I am a fly
at a bar drinking as if it could be my last;
and then I’m sick.

I need a doctor to remove this scar tissue around my heart.
It didn’t heal right, or maybe it’s not done yet.
What do I do in the meantime?

Sometimes I think it’s gone.
That maybe it got up in the mountains
of Virginia,
or left on the bench at a roadside diner.
I feel so weightless without it,
like I can do anything, be anything,
freedom.

But it’s never really gone.
It always hitches a ride or grabs onto
the bottom of my pants dragging in the dirt.

That little ****** named Heartbreak.
He still knows how to weigh me down.

I’m supposed to be going through the drag of orientation.
Sat in front of a computer, watch these videos.
Come get me when you’re done.
But I can’t stop thinking about him.
Time has been my worst enemy,
moving so fast taking me farther and farther away from those days we were together.
Too far away to touch anymore.
But the memories are still there.
Dimmer, foggy and like a lemon.

It was nice in the way it felt quiet
even with the roar of the wind.
I had no choice but to wrap my arms
around him and lay my head on the back of his shoulder.
He smelled good.
I noted that it would be a memory I would think about when my hair turns gray.
I used to ride on the back of a motorcycle with a guy, and smoked joints in the woods.
It wasn’t even that it was romantic,
it felt sweet.
Gentle and kind like this man I was trusting with my life.
We’ve come and gone into each other’s lives but that feeling of comfort is always there.

I’m scared.
I always have been.
I knew from a young age that the world
was cruel and unfair and I never wanted
to be a part of it.
I never saw myself being part of it.
Until he came along and made me feel safe
like he would protect me from
whatever the great IT is I’m afraid of.
I don’t like to admit that I am so familiar
with fear, so I pretend to be brave.
But I’m scared.

I woke up angry.
None of this is right.
It’s all wrong.
I’m done with the universe *******
with me,
giving me little hits of serotonin
only to end up smashing my face
in the dirt.
So I dealt with it the only way anyone with the same blood as me knows how.
I stopped by a gas station at 9:30 in the morning
and grabbed 2 shots of liquor.
I downed the first one and a big swig of the next.
I’m sitting in the lobby of my therapist’s office
waiting to tell her how ****** everything has been since last I saw her.
Sorry my breath smells.