I hate you for holding me in your bed like it meant more
I hate you for thanking me for sleeping over
like I had been special
like I had done you a favor.

I hate that you made me think that waking up alone in the morning was normal.
I hate that you never really hurt me enough for me to let go.
You are teaching me to abandon things before they abandon me
my first lesson was you
and I still haven't mastered the art quite yet.

I hate that you are always there when I'm feeling desperate
I hate the way you touch my waist and drunkenly ask me to stay
and how I always do
thinking that maybe I was the reason you wore a button down shirt.

I can't really put together my inhabitable thoughts anymore. Everything about you is still left wide open just like the door you tore apart.
I look for you now in everyone I meet.
Searching for a small sign that you are still in my everyday life. That your smile isn't wiped off the face of the earth and you coffee eyes were still within someone else who shared the same taste of music as you. Your hands reminded me of maps which lead me to where I wanted to stay for the rest of my life. Every exhale that came out of you guided me like a lost sail boat and hushed me up to shore. I loved listening to the sound of your voice telling me to sleep, yet reminding me that our time was limited and that I didn't have all the time I needed to have with you.
Absolutely no one can compare to how your coffee stains left on old written notes were like my gold stars. I felt at home in your arms and you were at peace in my head. I want that back. I want you back.

Why don't you tell them why you changed the locks to your new home? Explain to them why the old ones just weren't good enough and make sure you remind them of what can happen in the event of a break in. Like what the hell is the point in changing the batteries in the dying smoke alarm when this house has been under flames for years?

Do they ever ask you what happened to him and why he doesn't come around as often as he did before? Just start going into detail on how he used to kiss the blunt more often than he kissed you. Remind yourself the time you drove all night wishing he thought about you for just a fraction of how often you think about him.

Why are you so tired all the time? Is it because with each minute you sleep, another moment is wasted without him? Or does he run through your dreams looking for you? Looking through you, because beyond is someone heart shattering and beautiful.

Doesn't it bother you when you're stranded out in the ocean just to see if someone with a boat will see you better than a lighthouse? Your radiance will be stranger than some spinning light at the top of your head.

What happened the night they found your car without you in it? Just because your mind races faster than your car does not mean your legs can. Did the cold remind you how much you missed the warming sound of your beating heart? Or was it the pouring rain that reminded you how much you missed his dry humor?

good lighting made me look curvier
like shadows i felt each edge of my body hide away from boys that like to see the soft side i didn't think i had. my small A cup ***** looked like a solid C if you made the light dim enough to an angle just perfect enough to create an illusion. confusion as to why you undressed me i turned out to be such a disappointment.

a hefty price tag made me more valuable
if as if patterned cloths weren't enough. now my fingers turn as green as the cash i blew from these rings that won't come off or the necklace suffocating my desperate screams for beauty and acceptance in a world so based off eyes, then personality.

longer hair made me more easier to hold on to
for each and every boy that has pulled it this way and that just to get me in the right light or mood. as a mouth piece with no voice or a head with no brain or a soul with no emotion; i was an easy void. and as that void i filled it with dying futures.

every night screaming to be eye candy for those who could care less of what my favorite color was or my last name. comparing myself to other perfectionist out there that must have mastered it all from day one. mixing potions to stay thick, but thin at the same time. or were born into a solid gold Chanel dress with platinum trimmings and high stilettos. so high that everyone else in the room stretches there neck just to be blessed by beauty.  i've always thought about what it might be like to be seen as eye candy. for one night walk out and make heterosexual females question their sexuality and men be somewhat intimated by how i 'got it all'. but no. i sit in my room contemplating on using the eye shadow to blind me forever from staring at an image of what i am. *not good enough.

hot baths, breakdowns, too close, too loud. lost, alone, confused, worthless. self-image, self-confidence, self-love. questions. "What do you want to be when you're older?" "Where are you going to college?" "How are your grades?"
How are my grades? How am I! I'm breaking down every night, crying in the shower, trashing the organized file cabinet of my mind, scouring every inch of my consciousness trying to find out who I am. Emotionally unstable. Lost. Mentally unstable. Lost.
Ask me how I am.

i think at this point in my life I much rather be waking up in a morgue than my own bed.
the morgue holds multiple inviting people. No none smiling, but they're just all dying.
walking around trying to live their existence to the full extent just so when they do die other's can say they lived well.
if as if that lying in bed all day is just practice for the inevitable truth that one day you won't be waking up in your own bed, but a morgue.
just like everyone else.