forgive me
but i still think of him
while you hold me

i remember lying down with you on top of me and you pressed your palm in the space between my *******, pushing your weight on my breast bone, and i breathed deep and told you ‘don’t do that’ because you were too close to my heart.

your collar bones make me want to shove you onto a bed and sit on top of you and lay kisses on every inch of your body, and your skin, pale and glowing and unlike every other italian boy i've ever seen, you're different to them
and it's not because you think i am deserving of love and not just ***, and you think i'm beautiful and not just ****
it's the way you look into my eyes and wait for my smile because you think it's the most perfect thing in the world, and how you can't help but touch me every time i bite my lip because i'm so '****** ****' and you want my body but before that you made sure you wanted my heart

you used to buy the case
before the rest of us had the *****
you walked right in to that asian market on 3rd
and placed the beer on the counter
they once asked for your license
you told them you had a dui
they never questioned you again

Everyone might well be in some ones diary
a little piece of sliced life
sliced of lemon and squeezed
we like compartmentalising,  what's yours?
a lost love so ****** and so pure all at once
I was a teenager when you were a full blown woman
and still I love you, not for lemon slices or ***
I love you because you exist and existed for a moments time
taking me into yourself and adding me to your diary.

The reason for my sudden disappearance.*

I will never forget how it felt to be on top of the world. I felt like a mermaid, like the ones that guide the ships through the sea, misleading and ultimately leading many men to their demise.
On the front of our speed boat in the most popular tourist destination in my small town, with the wind blowing through my hair, time stood still. I felt invincible.
Hell, back then I was invincible. Every teenager likes to be a melodramatic little ****, and I was no different.
It was the summer before I started college, the summer where I would depart from all my adolescence and emerge in the adult world.
Right now is where you can mentally insert the sound of a record player being violently stopped.
That summer where I felt on top of the world was the calm before the storm.
Falling off the top of the world hurts, and here I sit with my only friend being Atlas, trying to collect myself.
Who knew there would be a type-writer in hell?

I wish someone would have warned me how rough everything would be. The movies make it out as if the transition between being a child and an adult is smooth and gradual, but for me, that wasn't the case.
I went to bed a child and woke up wishing I hadn't taken the time for granted.

You know its love when the ring of your doorbell sounds like a melody after his fingers push it, when he's already inside before you get to the door. You know it's love when your welcome mat looks more appealing with his ***** shoes on it and when hello is on the tip of your tongue but his is already in your mouth. It's love when you prefer to see yourself in his eyes than any other revealing glass. It's love when when your favorite song is the sound of his humming when he's deep in focus, and you can't pull your eyes away from his pouted lip when he's lost in thought. When you enjoy the way his hands neatly wrap around his fork, the way his jaw moves when he speaks or chews, the way he pours his coffee. You know it's love when he stares at you just as long with your clothes on as he does when they're off. When he says he's in love with your thoughts more than he's in love with your skin. When the silence is full, when you aspire to love yourself the way he does.
.
.
.
You know its over when the doorbell stops ringing. When his shoes and your welcome mat are no longer familiar with each other. It's over when his hand never meets with your doorknob and when 'I love you' is on the tip of your tongue but his is already in someone else's mouth. Its over when you can't see yourself in his eyes because he never makes contact with yours. It's over when you start reminiscing, when you start  gazing at walls for hours, when you start touching the skin of everyone you meet trying to remember the way he felt. You know its over when your thoughts stay bottled up because he's no longer there to spill them to. You know its over when you no longer appreciate the smell of coffee because it reminds you of the way he poured it. It's over when you wake up in strangers bed trying to get him out of your mind. It's over when you realize that the love you shared is one that you'll ever be able to find