I stretched myself
into a line so thin that I lost myself
along the way somewhere between you and him.
I became numb to the fact
that my mother’s cancer was spreading,
and I never said ‘I love you.’
and I stopped forgiving my friends,
for all the times they forgot or didn’t care
I couldn’t handle crowds,
and razors, and that I never slept
when I was alone in my bed.


When he told me he could never
want me they way I wanted him to,
I felt something for the first time in eight months.
But whatever I felt was not for him
it was him handing the piece back to me
only so it could ricochet off of the
Pacific and the thousands of miles between us,
because as hard as I try to rip it back,
and seal it to his heart with kisses and *****,
it will always come back to you