It amazes me that God made mouths,
knowing that they'd talk this much;
                                   judge this much,
                                   hurt this much,
                                   curse this much,
But everybody rambles, everybody spits venom at their mirrored flesh,
people who are just like you, just like me, just like everyone.
We do it anyway.

"She's not you," he said
as if I didn't know
as if I wasn't aware at that moment
with every fiber of my being
as I sat shotgun in his Jeep
that she was everything I wasn't

"I thought I'd be able to forget you," he said
as if I'd forgotten him
as if I didn't remember every stolen glance
every accidental brush of our flesh
every moment I thought I'd imagined

"I'm so sorry. This isn't fair," he said
as if I thought it was
and I had to remind myself to breathe, breathe
to blink my eyes clear
as I watched raindrops hit the black windshield
trickle down the glass, washing it
clean

"I will always care about you," he said
and my will was not enough
to keep my heart from splitting
along the scars and stitches of its past.

your ears were by far your best feature
they could deflect all my nervous trifles and absorb the jokes no one else got, the confessions I whispered through the phone, and the significance of being on the other end
(please remember)
I am not compiling a list of clichés with which to barricade the door when loneliness knocks
This is not a love song,
so please don’t use those ears to search for one

those ears were second only to your tongue
it possessed the unique ability to mold sound into exactly what I needed to believe
the confessions it sculpted
and glazed with calculated vulnerability fit so comfortably in my ear
that tongue was a love song and a mace rolled into one
(please remember)
not to use it to sing my praises, and I’ll grant you the same courtesy

your feet are so beautiful, too
the elegance with which they propelled you into someone else’s day dreams was inspired

with a screech, your tires left me reveling in exhaust
the fumes choking me, I never got a chance to say
that coffee from the place you used to-
we
used to like
is bitter now
it tastes the way goodbye did as it rolled off my tongue and chased your retreating back
I add more sugar
but the clinking of the spoon echoes the “I love yous” whispered to someone else
the sound fits in her ear the way your hand used to fit in mine
the spaces between my fingers now resemble apartments whose tenants have been evicted
the landlord hardened by rejection wears a coat sewn from the time and wears a mustache curled into the shape of desire
these lonely flats are plagued with shadows
(that’s what happens when the sun is so **** close you can taste it, but there’s something else in the way)
(please remember)
this is not a love story

(please remember)
I don’t want you back
I want coffee that won’t stain my smile
I want my favorite songs not to be harmonized by the sound of your breathing
I want my posture not to sing a Taylor Swift song and
I desperately want not to be the girl writing you poetry
(the kind that you would never listen to anyway)

your ears were by far your best feature
everything else is blurry to me now
I can’t picture your edges anymore, or differentiate where they separate from mine
Your ears were second only to your tongue
Your feet are so beautiful, too
With a screech, your tires left me reveling in exhaust