Loving you was either falling and getting right back up or suffocating waiting for the paramedics that never arrive.
We were a hurricane inside of a desert drought,
I was caught smiling into blue eyes of the storm
and it hasn't stopped raining in my peripheral vision ever since.
I was the dog behind your shed that you shot so many times but refuses to die because it has never loved anything more than I loved puking on our first date.
Loving you was like running my fingers across a map but never finding the X that marks the spot because it was under my shirt the whole time and you're some kind of twisted open heart surgeon.
And Happy ******* new year
I hope you got your wish
No matter how many times I blew out the candles the memory of your floodgate lips hasn't stopped drowning me in my sleep.
Loving you was like throwing stones in glass houses that still echoed your name.
And It was like reading this poem to a room full of blind people who have never seen love first hand but know exactly what I'm talking about when I describe the freckles on your shoulder blades.
Like being 5 years old and breaking my ankle over and over again
Like that hotel with a no vacancy sign lit up like your smile even though it has been empty since it's been born.
And I will love you until the clock hits 365 and decide that it's enough.
Because I was in love with the person you were pretending to be and not the demons that kept you up at night.
I could put your baby picture on the back of a milk carton but you're never coming back and I should stop looking.  
But love has a habit of hunting you down
And I'd cut my own hands off before I'd ever stopped the search party.

Soft shriek where the pain hurts
Loud scream when your words hit
Swift kick to the chest when I know that you meant it
Playing over and over in my mind like I'm on a cinematic hit list.
But I miss when we were quiet And absent  we cannot thrive after calamity and we cannot live hell bent
And not when the days that we spent were full of romantic torment
I wanna touch between your tendons
I wanna scream into your arteries like I'm in an empty tunnel and it echoes back into my sleeves
DONT GIVE UP ON ME
DONT GIVE UP ON ME  
DONT GIVE UP ON ME PLEASE
and don't... give up... On us..
But if you did. I'm sorry it wasn't enough
And you couldn't hold on
And you couldn't choke up the words to tell me you were already half way gone before I woke up.
And my eyes popped open like the hiccup in our path to where we stopped and where we picked up. I guess I slipped up and I let go it was my fault because I stepped up before you even got off the tight rope.
We fought fire with fire to the point of no return.
Why are you screaming when I was the one who got burned.

I guess I take after my mother. The way she walks, talks, screams and disintegrates.
It's not fair, I didn't ask for the comforting feeling of falling off a 300 foot building just to land face first at my dinner table.
And my hand writing looks like an etch a sketch trying to paint a picture of how we're still holding this family together. But it all falls apart so quickly if I give it a shake.

If you cut me in half you could count my scars like a tree stump. And they branch out with my misfortunes hanging on like leaves.
I'd do anything to cut down my family tree
Or for my mother to even hear me speak.
If I could I'd take my fist through my her voice box and wash her brain cells with rubber gloves and dish soap.
If I could just cleanse her ears with my screams.
How could I take after her when I'm the only one that's listening?

You ever wonder what it would be like for your own mother to find you in your room with dangling from your ceiling fan?
I know it's selfish but I can't go one ******* night without thinking about what would happen if I blew a red light
I am already two feet planted at the edge of the roof of a 17 story building shaped like the home I grew up in. Each floor is a year of my life I never got back.
The voices in my head saying "don't do it! don't jump" But I've already reached the ground before I even stepped off the ledge. Nothing's different.
I'd ask to stay home sick but they don't have a thermometer to measure the amount of love you're deficient of.
And they don't have a cure for neglect.
I didn't ask to be born with self destruction
Or to have to make friends with all of my grudges.
They're shaped like the ones that have raised me.
But they never left me less than empty.

My father and I joke about ending it all, we laugh in unison but I know that we both know neither one of us is joking.
If he died he would die in my closet, with the skeletons that kept me alive.
They'll bury him with my secrets that didn't **** me but kept me dead inside.
And in his eulogy I will concoct up a swarm of lies to commemorate his broken promises.
But he can rest with an clear conscious knowing my I'll live the rest of my life pretending to not be haunted.

If this family was a time capsule I would put in a letter to my father every single time he wasn't there to tell me to believe.
So I can open it 10 years later and remember that the fault here wasn't mine to keep
I hope your mistakes sing you to sleep every night you never did for me.
And every nightmare causes your eyes to bleed because every single time that I needed you, you were too blind to see.

If the apple doesn't fall far from the tree why do I feel like I'm so close to bouncing back.

A year ago today the clock struck 12 and you pressed your lips against mine so hard it took the breath right from my throat.
And I was still fighting to find where it hid while your friends pulled you off of me because you couldn't get enough.
Today is exactly 200 days since I've been without you and the irony is cutting right through my liver.
When the clock strikes 12 I will be kissing a bottle in celebration of the fact that it took you the count of 10 fingers to forget me and I will spend this year forgetting you.
I will destroy my brain cells to commemorate how you have not left my mind for a single second.
When that ball drops my mind will be screaming Happy New Year! I'm sorry I wasn't good enough, but I tried.

I delight in listening to the wind.
It’s so content and subtle, yet, so destructive.
Much like love, the way it slowly strings us along with bad intentions.
So reposeful we fall for each other and so maleficently we fall apart.
Too often we love things that aren’t any good for us.
We let emotions manipulate us.
Victimizing us into an impractical mindset,
Where we are convinced that love is permanent and nothing hurts.
But, love is a bizarre thing, much like the wind.
They both exist to eventually tear things apart,
Whether being our homes or our hearts.

I am a raincoat on your way home, sheltering you from the storm. When its thundering and lightening my only wish was the electricity spreading through every single one of my veins to keep you warm. I could write and write but it's never electric enough to keep you sane. And every single sympathetic step towards the end, towards bathtub I wish I was the one who took the pain. I wish I was a toaster accompanying your stares towards the water and I'd slaughter all the distressing thoughts that make your mind wonder.
But the music in my head made it stop. Everything stopped and it was calmed at suicide. But how do you run and hide?
And how do you explain your neck slipping like butter?
The rope sending you into a suffocating slumber.
Do you say it was an accident?
Do you say it was the thunder? That sent you into a frenzy in which you'd never recover.
Now tape yourself together little wind up toy, just for a little while.
Because even rain or shine if someone asks you how you're doing, you always lie and smile.

Last night I had a dream I had slept in your bed but things were different, it was colder on your side and I tried to reach for your hand but I couldn't find it.
I woke up to the feeling of my organs being ripped out of my stomach.
I found your hands.