i've been walked like a dog with the noose around my neck used as a leash and stabbed with a sword dripping wet with regrets. these retreats stain the pages i emptied my heart out onto, kind of like the kids my age with those glass bottles do.
the only difference is while they're throwing up all of that poison at four in the morning, i'm throwing up your name, every last bit of shame, and the parts of me that i will never reclaim. they wake up with a headache and a hangover on sunday afternoons but i've woken up with same one everyday for the past four months that comes from something that was probably just lust.

the thing is, i'm getting better.
you can see my lips curve like the slight waves in a lake on a rainy day instead of looking so flat like the boards of the floor inside an old abandoned house that resembles my heart.
you can see the sparkle in my eye like the spark on a lighter when you're trying to set your lungs on fire instead of pieces of sheet metal that you can see hell reflected into.

every once in a while i'll have a thought of you, and then i remember her too,
and i know you're not the person i once knew.
i smile these days and we both know that i never used to.
i hope when you see a graveyard you think of me and know that the memories of you are now buried six feet underneath me.