You asked me to define happiness and I told you it wouldn't make sense if I tried.
You asked me to define love and I told you to stop searching for answers you didn't want to hear.
You asked me to define loneliness and I told you it didn't matter because you would never face it anyways.
When you asked me to define us I finally snapped. I told you that we are the very definition of destruction and your face dropped because I think you expected me to say we were love and happiness and the opposite of lonely but I didn't. I told you exactly what we are.
We are two souls hopelessly grasping at each other in the middle of a graveyard hoping we don't get pulled underground but anyone but each other.
We are the smoke that curls off of my cigarette that makes you cough and tell me I really shouldn't **** myself in such a slow and stupid way.
We are the two am fights and three am I'm sorry's wrapped in a duvet full of regret.
We are the whiskey bottle you throw against a wall at four pm and the phone call to your mother three hours later when you're beyond drunk telling her you're sorry for being a horrible son.
We are that stack of pictures that sat in the back of your closet for five years before you finally burned them without a second thought.
We are this mass of destruction and it is killing us both.
We are tearing us apart one definition at a time and ripping out pieces of our hearts along the way.
Every time you hold my hands above my head and whisper that you love me while I'm kicking you screaming that I hate you and how dare you get rid of those pills without telling me we are defining everything except love and happiness and God knows I'll never feel lonely because the memory of your hands on my hips will never fade.
We are destructive.
We are miserable.
We are not what love looks like, but ****, I don't know what else to call it.

C.a.l