I couldn’t eat for
2 months.
My appetite just disappeared.
I lost weight really fast.
My belt became too big.
Usually food is my comfort,
I have spent many many nights
getting to the bottom of a bag
or having just one more slice.
So when the idea of food became
nauseating and my stomach just stopped
growling, it was weird.
I have never experienced heart break
like that.
It really is as bad as all the sappy poems say.
When you’re broken, even your favorite food
can’t comfort you.

I feel like I’m ready to give up
to be honest.
I just dealt with the hardest year of
my life and it was all for nothing.
Once he’s gone I’ll have nothing.
I am nothing.

Maybe I’ll just find a decent, boring man
and get married because it’s better than
dying alone.
I’ll have a kid or two because there’s
nothing else to do and it would be nice
to feel love that is actually real.

And since I’ll never see him again,
I’ll forget all about him.
Never say his name or think of his face.

Hopefully some day I won’t feel
so empty and none of this will hurt anymore.
Hopefully some day I can be okay again.

It’s like Christmas morning every time
he smiles at me.
Opening presents when he holds my hand.
Festive music plays when he laughs
at my jokes.
Mistletoe hangs wherever he kisses me.
And Santa is real when he calls me
his girlfriend.

Christmas comes just once a year,
but for me it’s every day I’m with him.

The monsters from my nightmares
come out during the day.
When I’m wide awake and suddenly
I’m reliving the day I realized
what was going on.
Then the monsters are
attacking me and I’m crying
in pain just like the first time.

The devil has fake red hair
because she’s too scared to accept
the beauty of time.
The devil puts off a perfect exterior,
a seemingly perfect person.
Until she ***** the love of your life
and then pretends to be your friend
the next day.
The devil is a coward who will
never say sorry.

“I wish I could put you in my pocket.”

And I wish I could fit.

I have that sick to my stomach feeling.
Sure wish it would go away.
I’m worried about what he’s doing,
who he’s with
as if I have any right to even wonder.
I hate that I still love him.
Something I haven’t even wanted to admit
to myself.

The ground is literally sparkling,
not just
because a light frost
is reflecting off the sun.
I just tip toed into my parents house
with huge pupils and messy hair
wearing someone else’s Halloween shirt
that says, Let’s get smashed.

But at least I wasn’t driving.

I’ll skip the color and just say
that’s it’s nice to have a nice boy
enjoy you.

I am now that girl who
ends up leaving something behind
My shoes, an ear ring, a bra,
and a hoodie.
A half pack of cigarettes and
a Vuse vape pen.
A small amount of ****.
I don’t know when it happened.
After I started drinking more often,
after he left me and I can’t
seem to remember where anything
is anymore.
And after all,
I was left behind too.

I am a Matryoshka doll.
I carry many different versions
of myself around,
each making appearances
now and then.
I don’t even realize when I transform
until I begin to avoid things
to protect whichever stage I’m in.
Right now I am big, good at deflecting and
putting on a smile with
my mascara.
The small one that’s weaker;
scared
is
deep inside.
Safe.

Everything is not okay.
I’ve already lost track of
what day it is,
I have no idea where
I should be or what I should be
doing.
It’s October, so my yearly
downfall into seasonal depression
is right on schedule.
I’m not even in my own bed.
Or my house because I don’t really
have one anymore.
My heart is broken,
my bank account busted,
no good fortune on the horizon.
Just another sun rise into
a day of disappointments.

He still needs me in the
small ways I need him.

It doesn’t get easier
with time.
You just learn how to deal
with the pain.

I remember going to
Toys R Us on my sixth birthday
and picking out a stuffed black dog
which became my favorite.
I named it Toto.
She has soaked up so many tears,
and really put up with a lot.

And even now, as a 24 year old woman
I sob into her fur and picture myself at 6
and can’t believe I’ve let her down.
I can’t believe how badly this man
who used to love me has hurt me.
It’s not fair.

When does it get better? Because I’ve never
seen the light for very long.

Waking up without him,
in an apartment that still doesn’t
feel like mine has only gotten
harder.
Many of my days begin
with tears or a slight panic attack
just remembering I won’t
get to see him.

I never fell out of love.

It feels like I don’t know you anymore.
You’ve become a different person,
but I am still the same.
We went out into the wilderness together
but then you left me to fiend for myself.

I think maybe tomorrow
I’ll just stay in.
There’s too much trouble beyond
my front porch.
Land mines and black holes,
snakes and fires and too much
broken glass.
It’s better to peek through the curtains.

You don’t have to step on me,
I’m the peach that you spent time
admiring.
The one you plucked from the branch
and held onto lovingly
until you saw I began to rot.
Everything has flaws.
But not you; so instead of taking great care
you tossed me on
the ground and stomped away.

There she is.
My old pal sadness, it's been awhile since her last visit.
She must have gone to see the ocean or the Grand Canyon, but, she always comes back. She never really leaves my side because nothing gold can stay.

I ruined a good day.
My stupid brain caught on fire
and it burned down everything
around me.

You probably never deserved to be
loved the way I loved you.
In the most real way anyone could.
I never wanted anything from you except
you.
I don’t know why I keep
pouring myself into men who don’t care.
Hopefully you’ll be the last one.

I began to take his clothes off the hangers
and pack my stuff into boxes.
Our relationship is over, it feels more
official now that we won’t be living
together anymore.
I tried to continue to stay busy
but I just couldn’t so I sat on the floor
and spent some time crying
over the last year of my life
and how much I was going to miss him.

I fell asleep on the carpet beside my bed;
I need a break from packing.

Sometimes the sun peaks through
on a rainy day.
It creates a beautiful shadow of the blinds
on the opposite wall.

And sometimes all you can do
is make chili spaghetti for the third
time this week and go to happy hour
on a Wednesday.

Thunder covers the
sound of me whimpering into my pillow.
The earth is crying too.

I remember that time we were
sitting across from each other in
blue suede chairs listening to
The Eagles and talking.

At one point he paused and said,
“I should’ve gotten up and kissed you. But
the moment is gone.”

We spent a lot of time together
talking about things we should have done.

Until one day he said,
“I should’ve never kissed you.”

I once made out with a guy
I now consider a friend
in front of a bar until he asked
to go back to my place.
I could barely drive because
he couldn’t keep his hands off me.
As I fumbled to unlock the door he
had his arms around my waist,
kissing my neck.
Once we made it to my bed he
kept saying how long he had been
wanting to do this with me,
and then in between drunken kisses
he slurred, I love you.
I actually laughed and said,
No you don’t, you just love me right now.

I felt a warm breeze on my back, maybe a perfect 75 degrees. The sky was a little cloudy but I could still see the stars. I was sitting on a broken bench smoking a cigarette, watching the fireworks that someone was setting off a block away. Fireflies danced just above the grass and it was quiet, only the faint sound of light traffic in town. And I was alone. But I was happy to be. Normally I wouldn’t sit outside in the dark by myself because I don’t want to become a true crime story but it was so nice out. Then the fireworks stopped and I finished the cigarette so I slowly made my way back to the door of my apartment building and went inside.

I got home from an afternoon spent by the water
and found him asleep on the floor in front of the fan.
I got down beside him and hugged him and he woke up.
I kissed him three times on the forehead and
said,
“I missed you. I wished you were there to have fun with.”
He said, “I know, I’m sorry.” and laid his head on my arm.
I ran my fingers through his hair and told him about my day.

As I lay there on a towel in the sun, surrounded by my friends; I couldn’t help but wish he were there.

I spent the rest of my evening with him getting food and wishing I could stay cuddled up on the couch, but I had to go to work.

I love you so much for
making room for me
in your life.
For staying when you came
into my apartment that December morning
and proving that not everybody leaves.

Last night I watched a video about a girl who dealt with the same thing I do.
Trichotillomania (hair pulling)
But she was able to beat it.
Everything she said was 100% true, and it felt like someone gets it.
It’s something that no one cares about other than you.
People claim to not notice it, or pretend that they don’t.
They laugh when you tell them, because they think it’s a joke, that it can’t be real.
Significant others get sick of telling you to stop, and picking your hair off all of their clothes.
It’s embarrassing, shameful, and frustrating.
And I’ve done it for 8 years.
But this time, for real, I am going to beat it.
I only pulled out one hair all day, so far so good.
Just now I almost put my fingers in my hair but I didn’t.
I’m hoping with time it’ll get easier.