Jul 2015
It took me one year, six months, twenty-three days, and thirteen minutes to stop thinking of you.
To stop constantly digging my unmanicured fingernails in my palms every time I saw you show up on my newsfeed and I’d like to think I don’t know why I haven’t just ******* blocked you.
But I do. It’s hard to admit that I’m so in love with you, seeing that you changed your mood from “bored” to “hungry”, is worth the splintering pain I get in my chest. It’s embarrassing to know that while you’re thinking about the growl in your stomach I’m thinking of the hunger in your eyes the first time you told me you loved me. you loved me. you loved me. god, I’m so ******* tired of the word “loved”. So now that your favorite shoes are scuffed you don’t love them? Now that your piano is missing a key, you don’t love it? Now that your grandmother is six feet under, hollow-eyed but still in her famous Christmas sweater, you don’t love her? Where did it go? Did it vanish when your shoelaces frayed, when you couldn’t hit that particular note, when grandpa stopped smiling? when I stopped smiling?
It took me one year, six months, twenty-three days, and thirteen minutes of melatonin margaritas, long-sleeved Julys, late night poetry, early morning trash and you, you are not worth it. You are not worth failing math because i can’t concentrate everytime the teacher says “X”. You are not worth spending my whole third period wondering if that’s how you see me. You are not worth the look in my mothers eyes when she finds me screaming in the shower at 3 am and you are not worth the same look on my little brothers face when he asks me why I’m never hungry anymore.
You are not worth the paper.
I have killed so many ******* trees in the last eighteen months hoping maybe they’d **** the memory of you, but the only thing dying is the light in my eyes and ******* I want it back. My dad told me yesterday that I smelled like smoke. I told him it was cigarettes. I did not tell him about the light in my eyes, or the embers in my shoes because how am I supposed to explain that the first time you kissed me you lit a fire in me.
How do I tell him the wind of your “I don’t love you anymore” blew it out.
But I do. It’s hard to admit that I’m so in love with you, seeing that you changed your mood from “bored” to “hungry”, is worth the splintering pain I get in my chest. It’s embarrassing to know that while you’re thinking about the growl in your stomach I’m thinking of the hunger in your eyes the first time you told me you loved me. you loved me. you loved me. god, I’m so ******* tired of the word “loved”. So now that your favorite shoes are scuffed you don’t love them? Now that your piano is missing a key, you don’t love it? Now that your grandmother is six feet under, hollow-eyed but still in her famous Christmas sweater, you don’t love her? Where did it go? Did it vanish when your shoelaces frayed, when you couldn’t hit that particular note, when grandpa stopped smiling? when I stopped smiling?
It took me one year, six months, twenty-three days, and thirteen minutes of melatonin margaritas, long-sleeved Julys, late night poetry, early morning trash and you, you are not worth it. You are not worth failing math because i can’t concentrate everytime the teacher says “X”. You are not worth spending my whole third period wondering if that’s how you see me. You are not worth the look in my mothers eyes when she finds me screaming in the shower at 3 am and you are not worth the same look on my little brothers face when he asks me why I’m never hungry anymore.
You are not worth the paper.
I have killed so many ******* trees in the last eighteen months hoping maybe they’d **** the memory of you, but the only thing dying is the light in my eyes and ******* I want it back. My dad told me yesterday that I smelled like smoke. I told him it was cigarettes. I did not tell him about the light in my eyes, or the embers in my shoes because how am I supposed to explain that the first time you kissed me you lit a fire in me.
How do I tell him the wind of your “I don’t love you anymore” blew it out.
my feet are burning
