How easy do you forget what you left there?
When you stream those chemical trails do you think about the girls you tried to write down but couldn't?
I wonder if you find the pieces I left you under bottom drawers and do you sign yourself away next to my names when the door's locked and I'm the only thing left sitting, watching the window for traces of you?
Did I mark you like you did me?
I left my favourite things for you on the off chance
that you will still taste me when you remember pouring sugar into my tea
on Tuesday nights, or white Sunday 4pms.
I haven't breathed as deep as the day I left you.
I want to tell you how I don't wait up for you anymore,
don't listen for Greek around every corner anymore.
There are parts of us stuck beneath the floorboards, the walls wait with baited breath,
and this skin is so volatile I have to walk through myself just to remind me I'm here.
I breathe you out.
Maybe you are still seeing, me seeing you,
in your head.

Cold the air in morning rain,
Dull the grass and houses plain,
Branches sway in trees so bare,
Little does the world so care.
Clouded gray so clouds go by,
Flowers hide with lonely cries,
Dandelions in frozen earth,
Wait for spring and for their birth.
Snow like slush upon our eyes,
Melts so ***** with no disguise,
Water frozen on ponds so lost,
Winter takes a heavy cost.
Dandelions soon will grace,
With color bright upon this place,
While heat and time renew the earth,
The pretty weeds will prove their worth.

I'm not good at anything
I can't stay committed
If I'm not amazing at it I don't see the point
I'm a quitter and I admit it

I'm not good at expressing myself
I'm too short to really do anything athletic
I'm not good in front of an audience
And my creativity is kind of pathetic

My poems are... whatever
And my social skills kind of ****
I'm really just a push over
And I can't help someone if I really don't give a ****

My attention span is inexcusable
And my memory is nonexistent
I'm too shy to confront my fears
And I'm to insecure to be persistent

I'm not good at anything
I'm not noticed at all
I was once looked up to and praised
But now a shattered porcelain doll

Thrown away and forgotten

You're breaking on your camera hand. Haven't got a leg to stand on.
You tell me
you're making me a colour with your shorthand.
Dropping parts of your mind behind you and I can't pick them up, I can't follow you round anymore.
Kid, you're shaking on the stage again
explain that you can't write this down anymore
and that everything inside your head is a storm.
And I just can't tell you.
I don't have the guts to tell you
that I still smell him on my hair on days when I don't think about you now.
But I can't tell you what I'm thinking
like how you're so wrapped up in your own broken strings that you're not getting me right anymore.
You're not getting me right anymore.

These things I lost down in my chest:
how you made this body your chalkboard fourteen days before we even spoke,
and I don't know what you're leaving with. I can't find the words to leave you with.
Tornado hands. Texas lungs. How this world made you a storyline.
You're an underage drunk on a school night.
Stop dropping yourself I can't hold you up anymore.
This is not a hold up.
This is you forgetting to ask about yourself.
Here are all the letters I never sent you
take them out of me, stop making me write you down I can't write you down anymore please scratch yourself out.

You once asked me if I felt it when you woke up in the middle of the night across all those miles, I told you:
you're a church bell in a hurricane
stuck under all the folded over pages I left you with, and I'm leaving you on a Sunday,
just like all those characters you left sawn off.
And I just want to ask you how many times I have to break myself apart before I piece back whole, and I realise
that we've got nothing left going for us anymore.
Your chipped teeth under my tongue telling me "stop apologising for yourself,"
ripping the keys off a typewriter just take everything I've got.

You can have my apologies love.
You can have my best friend sitting on the tracks.
You can take me whole, take me home.
You're a boarded window, nothing disclosed,
"get away from me".
Candlelight through the gaps on a Saturday night in December.
We're home alone again.
Home alone again.