I swallowed a thesaurus the first day of
Summer and swore I'd write until I wasn't so hollow. All I wanted was to get out of this state but I couldn't convince myself to leave my room.

I remember the first time I saw your room. It was clean, immaculate. Even with blurry vision I could see how it all lined up. My mother always said people with clean environments had control of their life.

We clashed; black and white. Yet we got
Comfortable in the shades of grey we
Discovered in late night conversations.

Fate vs free will, you never believed things
happened for a reason. I never believed you would choose to stay.

We grew restless and tired. The leaves used to blush at the way you said my name and then you stopped letting it fall from your tongue.

I started to change colours and we stopped
Finding ways to ignore our problems. The last time I saw you, your room was covered in shredded paper and ***** laundry.

I never meant to burn it down. You didn't
Pause long enough for me to find the right
Words. I'm still choking up synonyms for
sorry in letters I'm still hiding under my mattress.