I tried to take your pictures down,
pulled the tacks
right out of my head.

You're a sticky fellow,
and behind the pictures,
there are scars on the wall.

I want to say,
"Remember that one time... when we..."
But I don't want to remember.

I want you to go away.
So I went away.

You're still here,
but you're not here.

We haven't spoken in months,
but why does it feel like you won't leave me alone

I see you every night,
I wake up and sometimes,
I can still feel you on my mouth,
smell your skin.

You're so far away.

How does something so dim,
burn so bright?

I'll probably never know,
why people sleepwalk,
or what I ever saw in you.

How someone who can be so terrible,
can be so
magnificently wonderful
simultaneously.

You were
temporary ink,
but it feels like
a ******* tattoo.

*I'll bleach all my walls
until your stains are gone