Saying goodbye to you is like getting hit by a train;
Not because it hurts, but because it could mean the end.
The mortality rate of being hit by a train is 90%,
So I've decided that the likelihood of never seeing you again is like that.
There's a chance that I may say goodbye, and that will be it,
But there's also a chance that I may say goodbye and will leave only with battle wounds.
My last kiss with you could be so painful that it will leave me with scars forever,
Or it could stop my heart in its tracks.
I could hear your voice whisper my name in the dimlit dorm room one last time,
And feel all of the bones break in my body,
Or my spinal cord could sever and leave me just like that.
Either way,
I think I still want to take my chances,
Because scars fade
And bones heal,
So there's a 10% chance that saying goodbye to you,
Will not be my last chance to say it.

I keep wanting to write about you,
And I think it's because we haven’t talked in a few days,
But honestly I’m not sure what to write.
When I think of you,
I see your smile grinning so brightly at me,
And I feel your hand holding mine tight.
But I don’t know what to write,
Because when I think of you I just want to talk to you,
And hear your voice and your laugh,
Even though you’re usually laughing at me.
I don’t know how to write about the respect you show me,
Or the fact that you always want to know more.
I don’t know how to put into words the way you make me forget about the bad,
And fill me with good.
I keep wanting to write about you
Because I met you at the wrong time and I fell too hard.
I want to write about you because I don’t want to let go yet.

If you tell your friends you want to **** yourself,
They'll either leave or tell your mother.
By telling your mother, then at least they did something,
By leaving, they won’t have to deal with it.
But once they leave they’ll push you to a breaking point,
And you’ll find yourself clutching the gun to your chest.
Because they left, they’ll have to tell strangers why they didn’t stop you.
They'll eventually find themselves thinking the same way you did,
Because their used-to-be friend tried to killed themself,
And they acted as conspirators to an attempted homicide.

You told me that I had a great smile,
And that my little crooked front teeth were cute.
You told me that you liked my laugh,
And you’d imitate it in a voice full of admiration.
But then you kissed me and things changed;
You were distant and I couldn’t ignore the bounce in my giggle.
You didn’t joke with me and I started hiding my grin.
I started to hate the way my name sounded on your lips,
Even though it’s still like a lullaby in my head.
Your voice does this thing where it makes my heart beat quick,
And my eyes start to water.
I didn’t think it was possible to find love and hate in myself,
All at the same time,
Because of you.