I want you to love me this morning
I want you to replace the clothes on hangers in my closet
I wish you'd come back and remember me like it was winter.
I know that I haven't written about you since the summer
And that it was supposed to be the last and angry love letter
But the velocity of strokes in which my pen creates always circles back and I find myself etching your initials into my skin.
When I was younger, I promised myself I'd never cry over any boy.
The tomboyish version of my younger self always thought sobbing over boys was a pathetic act of desperation, accomplishing nothing but sopping sleeves and swollen eyes.
It wasn't until you left months ago, that I realized, the tears that streaked down my face were cleansing my body from everything you've ever touched.
I have scrubbed my skin in the shower trying to get your name off of my chest.
I have rinsed and repeated more times than you can count on your slender fingers;  that always used to ache whenever I held them for too long.
Sometimes, people stop and ask me how long it's been since you last loved me.
I tell them I was never truly yours
But I would still sit on your bookshelf and collect dust with the poetry I wrote you,
If that's what you wanted, but I know you'd always cover me with coffee stains and cigarette butts
I know it's wrong
But I can help the anger from seeping out through the bottom of my pen
I hope one day, you feel comfortable enough to love someone
Without making them bleed
I hope one day, you give up manipulation
And running red lights
I hope you realize this is the last of the last
And I hope god begins to paint pictures of me laughing with my head tilted back and the smile broadening on my face when I learn how to let people in
I hope they jump with me.
I hope it's you.