when i say i don’t care, i’m lying. congratulations. you broke my heart. i want to feel my pulse again. i want to bite down on her shoulder like warm skin is the last thing i will ever taste. learn to read between the lines. i’m in love with a girl i could never have. we are both too flirtatious with death. when you read my writing, can you see me? i suppose i’m afraid of dying with the faces of people i’ve hurt plastered against every lamppost on my street. missing. if i wasn’t me, i think i would avoid myself at all costs. don’t fall in love with me if you don’t desire immortality. love either does or doesn’t last forever. i’m not sure which hurts more. i’m so full of ****. these metaphors will be the death of me because sometimes i write and it feels like i’m drowning. i’m a shipwreck. if my heart beats any louder you won’t be able to focus on everything i’m trying to say. wrap your knuckles in-between each one of my vertebrae. please break me. i need to feel something again. the ballad of a tortured artist. nothing we haven’t seen before. why should it matter? do i? have i already lost? have you ever looked forward to waking up in the morning just to hear that song again? that’s what being in love with her feels like. i am learning to love my hands most when they’re empty. appreciate my flowers more when they wilt. treat yourself gently. it gets better with time even when you cant wake up in the morning without hitting snooze. like the night he rolled his eyes and told me to go home. i was with him, wasn’t i? will anybody read this? will anybody care? do i even care? i hope nobody tries to follow me because if i had any idea where i was going i like to believe that i’d have been there by now. did you hear me? don’t follow. every 18 months i give birth to new silences with names like paul and ethan and kayla and I Still Haven’t Found You Yet. i can’t keep pretending that i’m not tired of these teeth sitting in my lungs. some things are just impossible to say. how will i survive? the holes in my sheets are all named olivia. i want everything served to me violently, every day lived as a car crash. a punch in the chest. a blatant lie. i’ll swatch your blood on my hand first to see if it complements my skin tone. i haven’t let a man touch me since. i just wanted to help you love your darker parts, i never meant to become one. i am a fossil of a life once lived but not anymore. words don’t cut anymore they just ricochet and i am still so scared by loud noises. i am out of my depth here. if you love me, please tell me.