mouth full of broken teeth
no wonder I don’t smile like I use to

I can’t feel you on me
and I’m dying for a reminder that you’re still here

I miss you
I stopped having nightmares a long time ago and now I’m just trying to remember what it was like to dream
my chest is heavy and I’m so sorry I couldn’t love you right
Please don’t leave

****** isn’t scary anymore
and neither are the withdrawals

I’m not afraid of anything except losing you

all of my friends hate me
well so I guess I wouldn’t really call them friends, huh?

and it’s fine
I think my wife hates me, too

that one caught me by surprise..

I guess I stopped checking for razor blades and forgot how tragic needles could get

I wish I could **** myself without feeling so guilty I puke

I wish my ex would die and my ex best friend stopped looking so ******* happy

I wish I didn’t hurt you and I wish my mom didn’t die and I wish I hadn’t hurt her either

wow I love you and this is so ****** up

I wish I didn’t believe you wanted me gone too..

throw a ******* pity party I guess
I only get to once a year

so much has changed since I met you

I  live in a different house now, left the old one behind
but I still keep my mom's key tied around my neck, an apology for all the things I couldn't take with me

I haven't driven down my old street since my dad left
he still calls me sometimes but I wonder if I'll ever really see him again
or my brother

I bought a new car, a Honda, go figure
and it almost feels like the last trip I took with my mom when I drive it
West Virginia, and how I thought we'd still be driving for days

and of course there's Her
I wore a pink cactus shirt when I married her
stayed in our home town for our honeymoon

so much has changed since I met you
and I miss handfuls of last year
and being a kid, coming home to my mom in our old house
but I'm happy here

I'm happy now

I'm scared
almost all of the time of almost everything

I haven't felt at peace since a lot of things went down
and I'm still learning to live through that

I wouldn't write about it if it didn't still hurt

relapsing after being clean for any period of time is trying
and almost all the time I take it too far

being in the city scares me
I am terrified of running into old ghosts

and being with you scares me too
because I am convinced good things are not meant to be
but I'll be ****** if I give up just because it's scary

I’m going to marry this girl one day, and here’s why

she has shown me that she’s not willing to back down from a fight
when things get tough she gets tougher and we deal
she pays attention to small details and works to show me every day that she thinks about me constantly and that this will never only be one sided
when I told her I was an addict she applauded my good days and she stood by me in my bad
and when I told her I was scared I’d relapse again she bought Narcan and stayed up to measure my breathing
I have never for a second had to doubt whether or not she would be there because she always is

And I will spend the rest of my life trying to show her that her love was not in vain

I am too critical about the smallest things
it’s not hard to set my blood to boil
but I’m a short burst before I’ve forgotten where the anger came from

My girlfriend is the most gentle human I have ever met
she never wants to agree on little things, like how to spend the afternoon because she always wants to do something better (together) she loves quality time that includes physical affection and I’m probably The most hands off lover she could have picked
But I’m tryin to get better about it for her

She’s all early mornings and Extravagant dates
She and I are total opposites in more than one way

But she is the most incredible person I have ever known and I wouldn’t change a **** thing about her if I could

I am most comfortable acting reckless
it is hard to seem so put together when I’m spinning out of control

But I like the way it feels losing sleep thinking of you
we bought a bigger mattress and you still take up 3/4 of the bed
And I don’t mind for a second making space for you

You are the only person that has ever made me feel safe stepping into unknown
you are the only one who has ever stayed

thank you. I love you, too.

my dad laughs as he swears I learned whole sonnets in the way my mother spoke before I ever let a single word drip from off my tongue

knew all about her kind of crazy before I ever knew exactly what that would mean for us

the days she wouldn’t leave her bed
except to crawl desperately to cool tile

hold her own hair back and wonder again when it would all be worth it

the last time I saw her alive she wasn’t a quarter of the person she used to be

and I’d sit up for days wondering again what I had to do to make it worth it

watching her rot away inside of her own skin

my sister thinks I’m heartless
that I can throw away all of the pieces parts she left behind

but I cannot bare to choke on these words any longer

I hate the way I sound so much like her
staring at a ghost every time I look in the mirror

I am haunted by all the things I did not do for her

all the ways I let her down and left her to die alone

and I sit here for hours and wonder again when the pain will be worth it

I’m addicted to feeling numb

and my ex is right what they say about me, I’m so sorry for the girl lying here beside me

time didn’t make it easier and I think I’m still sick, I think I’m getting sicker

I didn’t mean to hurt her, I don’t want anyone to have to hurt like this

if you ignore hunger pains long enough, you stop feeling them
I just want to stop feeling this

there is nothing extraordinary about me
nothing worth rescuing anymore

is it ****** up that when i heard my friend had died i cried
and wished i could be so lucky

i feel guilty more for never thinking about my mom
and how in two weeks it'll have been three years
and how i can still see it in my sister's jaw, the way she bites her tongue to keep from screaming

mostly i just wonder how she keeps it up
how i'm supposed to bite my tongue at all the razors come slip from between my lips, slash holes through my gentle girlfriend and my scared brother

i am so scared of how much longer i'm expected to keep this up
i have tried and tried and i cannot survive with this pain in my chest
there isn't any room left for new scars

i want to swallow all the pills i've ever kissed and drop off the edge of this ****** up cliff i've been ******* to for years

i want to know what it's like to finally sleep

i don't want to be rescued, i never did

you are worse than ******

what a compliment, that you could so easily **** off all the good left in me with just a taste

*******
****** was sweeter than you, vinegar and baking soda and something worse than death

I never missed you for a second
I never missed you at all

I forget about your name on my skin and she never mentions you

she kisses the back of my neck before she falls asleep every night and it is almost like you never existed at all


you wrote on my bedroom wall so I moved my bed, she wrote over it

the only times I think of you are to wish you were dead
I wish you felt the pain it was to be with you

but more than anything I feel sorry
you will never know what it is to have my heart

She doesn't write anymore
not since before me
(and you can call that cocky if you'd like but) she's not the same
bitter sweet with nothing sweet about her and desperate for something that sounds like it did before

You
God you sound like symphonies (and I was never really one for classics but)
I can feel my skin come alive with the way you say my name
and of course I will see you through this

After all
I love you

Some nights it feels like my heart will beat its way out of my chest
Not in a beautiful way, just like ripping cobwebs from the corner of my bedroom, trying to make space for something better
maybe something beautiful

Some nights I do not believe I need this heart at all
It is just a fragile ****** thing, like you
maybe like me
and maybe I'd be better rid of it

Some nights I sit and count the times my jaw clenches while I trace bone pressed against your soft skin
I'm trying to listen to the way your heart is comfortable in her gentle rhythm
but I get distracted wondering if she is as lovely as you and that's why you let her stay

Some nights you reach for me, and it is everything I am not to rattle you awake, wrap you in these frail arms, and press you so tightly to me that this fragile ****** heart has no where else to go
left beating down cobwebs from the corners and crawling into my throat trying to scream, trying to be heard, trying to love you

I blacked out in my bed last week, which is almost like falling asleep

until she told me my lips turned blue and my chest stopped dipping

and my head's still spinning trying to imagine the look on her face when she cracked three of my ribs while she begged 911 dispatch to tell her how to make me breathe again

I hate everything about waking up naked tangled up in tubes and wires and a face mask after my little brother dragged me on to the floor so EMT had a clear path to get to me

nothing about this is beautiful anymore
I've got a sick sense of Deja Vu and I still haven't quite caught my breath

I don't know which means more,

that it's been five months since I counted out the grains of salt it would take to get me through my next dry spell well enough to get out of bed..

or that it's been at least two months since I even thought of pin ***** needle point as an escape from ...well, anything

she came and left in these late months, when the sun sets too early and the night stretches on for days

and the night really does seem to last an eternity on evenings like these, when I am missing you so deeply

I found new love, mom, and she doesn't make me feel small for wishing you were still here
and she has the most beautiful heart, and you would smile if you saw us together

she is so gentle, ma, she holds me with so much kindness and I know you would be so proud of me for finding love in someone who has just as much to give back to me

I could never feel empty pouring myself into someone who spends so much trying to fill me back up

I wish you knew her, ma
I wish she got to know the warmth I come from

it's not fair that you didn't get to see me turn out happy
after so long watching me struggle though pitch black nights,
you deserve to get to see your baby alive in the sunlight

TW: suicide is not the answer
but strangely enough
right now i can't exactly recall what the question was

so maybe that's just how we'll do it tonight


TW: i stopped cutting when i was sixteen but then my best friend ***** me and i slit my wrists wide open when i woke up still high off the roofies she gave me
so actually
i stopped cutting when i was seventeen

and that's only because i met ******
and she taught me a different kind of numb


TW: i'm 170 pounds again and i think about throwing up every time i see a picture of myself or look in the mirror
and i wouldn't want to puke so bad if i could just stop eating but i can't even do that

so tally that one on the list of things i hate about myself


TW: it wasn't enough that i was a ******
i had to be a ******* "******" too

which is funny because despite what everyone keeps saying i really don't want to be a boy at all
i just want you to stop associating the word female with feminine
and stop expecting me to do my eyebrows or care about how my **** look in the shirt i'm wearing


TW: suicide is never the answer

but i'm just so **** sick of being sad
and feeling like i am suffocating but wishing that i actually was

I CAN'T TELL IF I'M MANIC OR DEPRESSED BECAUSE I WANT TO **** MYSELF TONIGHT

OR CURL UP ON THE FLOOR AND NEVER GET BACK UP AGAIN

OR DRIVE 108 MPH EXACTLY WHILE BLARING ALL THE SONGS YOU HATED HEARING FROM MY STEREO UPSTAIRS AND SCREAM AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS UNTIL MY THROAT IS SO RAW AND MY VOICE SO HOARSE YOU WON'T EVEN RECOGNIZE IT WHEN I'M BEGGING YOU TO COME BACK

****
BECAUSE NOTHING HURTS LIKE THIS DOES

THE SPLIT OPEN RIB CAGE IS ALMOST A COMFORT BECAUSE AT LEAST THEN I MIGHT BE ABLE TO STUFF THIS GAPING WHOLE IN MY CHEST

SIX SHOTS OF NARCAN AND SHAKING WITHDRAWS TASTES ALMOST AS SWEET AS THE SHOT THAT KILLED ME
or the shot that left me lying unconscious for three days while the cancer killed you..

OR WAS IT THE PILLS THAT FINALLY TOOK YOU FROM ME?
I GUESS I REALLY COULDN'T SAY SINCE I WAS NEVER THERE

i use to see you in my dreams, Ma
i use to remember the way your hair smelled

ISN'T IT ******* PATHETIC I WON'T EVEN GO TO THE SAME STORES NOW
TOO AFRAID OF RUNNING INTO YOUR GHOST
even though i swear i'm struggling trying to find a place where i can feel you

i use to remember the way your voice sounded
AND I HATE MYSELF FOR DELETING ALL THE VOICEMAILS YOU EVER LEFT ME
AND THE TEXTS THAT SAID YOU ONLY WANTED ME TO MAKE IT HOME

YOU NEVER ASKED ME FOR ANYTHING BUT TO KEEP YOUR BABY SAFE
AND AREN'T I SO SICK FOR BEING TOO SELFISH TO EVEN DO THAT

instead i sat next to your hospital bed
TOO HIGH TO STAND BY YOU ANYMORE

i can't tell which half of bipolar this is
because i want to **** myself tonight
and you're not even here

to stop me

I don't tell other people's secrets
I have too many of my own that I'm still hoping you might forget soon

I am dangerous like falling in love with your best friend
and maybe because I am so casually comfortable with the idea of never letting you all the way in

I am the reason self-help books were created

I have "disaster" too literally tattooed on every inch of my skin

"you could be my therapist, but no. I'm not telling a stranger **** about me."
and go figure, but I have never been more interested in all the things you are not willing to say

because this porcelain smile of yours seems close to cracking
and I have more experience with that than you might believe

tonight is the first time in 45 days that I have considered calling to ask to shoot me dead (EVEN WHEN HE CALLED ME TO SAY HE COULD GET ME HIGH AGAIN)

I WANT TO DIE BECAUSE SHE DOESN'T LOVE ME LIKE SHE USED TO
but even more because I don't love her at all anymore

I NEVER THOUGHT I WOULD EVER HAVE TO FEEL LIKE THIS AGAIN
you said you could only love me sober
BUT WHAT DOES ANOTHER KEY TAG MEAN TO SOMEONE SO ******* DEAD INSIDE

YOU CRIED THE LAST TIME WE KISSED
and I didn't want to use behind it
BUT I CAN'T TELL YOU HOW STUPID I FEEL BECAUSE I STILL DREAM OF THE WAY YOU USE TO PRESS SMACK INTO MY WRISTS

AND HOW ******* **** YOU LOOKED WITH MY BLOOD STILL ON YOUR LIPS

and maybe this has more to do with the fact that you only ever made me feel lonely
AND I AM PERFECTLY CAPABLE OF DOING THAT ALL ALONE

so this is about the next time I don't answer the phone
and you can thank the rig on the top of my book case

there's a hickey on my chest
and I know you are the one who left it there
because it is signed in the letters of your name

and if you come over...
I'll show you how it matches the black scratch ink between my shoulder blades

you called me, rambled nonsense of love lost through the telephone before saying you'd only see me if I promise not to write about it

as if you've ever known a moment with me that didn't one day end up on paper

fastforward after dinner, we're in the Costco parking lot
and somehow I think, we're both still hungry

you ask me if my new tattoo has anything to do with the way you get naked before the door to your apartment drops shut behind us
I promise not everything I do, I do with you in mind

but it's a quarter to eight and we're in the backseat of your car
(and if I had a dollar for everytime we wound up here I wouldn't even have to write anymore)

I am crushed between seats that do not lean far enough forward, when you finally notice the music has stopped playing

this is the first time in four years you have ever seemed uneasy in the quiet

so I kiss you until your body relaxes
you have cried three times since you took your shirt off
you don't stop telling me you love me until suddenly

your hands are everywhere
and I have permission to write about tonight because obviously this means we are still in love

fastforward 24 hours
I'm back in your car after a stop to the pub and there's enough liqour in me to drown out my voice

we fall asleep holding hands while the heat blasts like a furnace ready to burn down this so well put together home

that's two nights in a row I have lost my way home and somehow found myself tangled up in ... well not really sheets, I guess
maybe just each others clothes?

alright skip ahead another day
you're asking if I'll see you and for the first time in four years my answer is no

we promise a rain check and then next day I'm drunk again and only think
about kissing you until I fall asleep sweaty and with a pulsing headache

I'm thinking about leaving my job so I'll have more time to admire the way you look with all this confidence

it's only with you that I will ever say no to getting high
because with you I already can't feel my face

and I guess you could say I love it

my ex girlfriend is still the only girl I think about kissing when I get high
and I've been getting high a lot recently but I can't tell her that

so we don't really talk, but a girl I really like thinks I sound **** after two nights of staying up shaking
and puking until I've reached my lowest weight since I got sober

and the girls at work like me around but hate watching me scratch
my brother asked me if the scratching means I'm shooting up again but I haven't touched a needle since the last time I had ***
and boy has that been awhile now

but I guess needles are the only things I think about kissing when I'm sober
so it shouldn't be too much longer before one sneaks its hollow tip into the side of my wrist ..or the top of my foot

and my boss asks if I'm still drinking too much to be considered something other than dependent
and the truth is, I dont remember most of the time
if I'm still stopping after the second glass
because I'm always so tired and I'm always asleep by 5 p.m. but I'm always waking up sick from something

I can't tell if I just forgot to eat or if I'm crashing or if I miss you

I hope that I dont miss you, but I think I do
don't I?

You, sobriety, are my longest lasting relationship.
Even though I'm not exactly sure where we fell off.

YOU, ex girlfriend, are not really sober if you still smoke **** four times a day. **** is still a drug, whether or not you treat it like medicine.

And yes, alcohol (in the minds of those who matter) is still a drug, whether or not I treat it like medicine.

And no, this is not the long way of telling you to quit coping the safest way you know how. But stop telling your friends that you're better than me because at least you have some clean time.

The thing is, we both know what liquid ****** tastes like.. mixed with blood and running from the bee sting in the crook of our elbows. So please stop thinking you're better than me.

At any rate, at least I'm not breaking the law anymore. No one is going to send me back to jail for the six pack I keep in the fridge.

Today could've been eight months. And I will admit that it does make my stomach turn thinking about how much I'm willing to give up to feel whole again.


Hey, ex girlfriend, I hate the way **** smells mixed with your perfume. That's the reason I don't come around much these days.. but I know how much you hate the smell of whiskey on my breath so maybe that's why you don't seem to notice

I was 16 the first time a boy I trusted threw the phrase "I love you" like a hand grenade

"boy", because my mother taught me it doesn't matter whether real men wear pink as long as they are gentle with these vital pieces of you
calloused hands can still be soft
it all depends on the way they touch you

and in fact, I was 16 the second time too.. a different boy, bigger than me like the first
he didn't struggle to nail my hands to the boards beneath me
maybe because I was never strong enough to left his knees off my chest
Or maybe there wasn't much fight in me that day either

I didn't cry when I woke up naked in my best friend's bed that same year
And I didn't cry when they kicked me out of school because roofies sounded like ****** to their ears

so if I say their names out loud who am I giving the power to? is it ironic the way he has the same name as your father.. looks strikingly similar to a man who has never ***** me, just ripped his own daughter's heart out when he didn't stop someone else from doing the same to her

I was old enough to know better when I started going home with girls that only fed me pills in the shape of their lips
it was my own mistake when I started kissing strangers the way I kissed whiskey bottles

I was 18.. she told social media it was the best *** she's ever had.
19.. her hands aren't even calloused but I've never felt skin so rough
20.. I'd rather be in jail for the rest of my life than explain to my therapist that you weren't taking advantage of me if I'm the one who led you up the stairs

I am casual in the way I mention the finger shaped bruises they left on my thighs and my wrists and the rope burns around my heart after I tried to hang myself when I couldn't catch my breath after the weight of his knees on my chest
I promise that this are not things I dwell on
these are not memories that I am still bitter or angry over

and in fact, it wasn't until I recognized that it was my voice that has been screaming all this time
that i was even willing to name you.

until my best friend overdosed on the landing at the top of my stairs

and she cried and cried and screamed and she had nightmares for weeks and we slept on the couch until the dark by the bathroom wasn't so scary

"I never want to see you like that"

but I guess I had other plans
and she cried and screamed and she threw things at me and I was evil, so evil I think I hollowed out my chest to make room for the bad, the poison, the death of myself (and ultimately our relationship)

and I tried to die on purpose a couple of times, but never the times I was with her.
but there was nothing sweet left of me and she was so tired of drinking from my bitter lips
and breaking ribs

so playing at death's doorbell isn't cute anymore, it makes her sick to her stomach and I have the videos to prove it

but now all the bad stuff is gone from my body and my chest is still empty because I packed up my mangled heart and patch quilt lungs in your trunk of things and i never see you anymore
and I don't know how to call you and say that I need it all back

I am made up of thousands of tiny cracks in composure

I have a scar on my right wrist from a pair of handcuffs, when a cop was a little more than cordial with me
I've got at least two from running face first into counter tops or door frames..
I could name four off the top of my head that my ***** ex girlfriend left me, they look like shaky trails on a treasure map. maybe her excitement got the better of her, but I got her best..and worst
I've got a constellation of pin ****** across my shoulders of acne scars that'll never heal right after my seventh trip to lockup
And now that I've gained and lost my full body weight in five months, I've got three dozen pretty pink stretch marks I'm afraid won't ever turn white

And I guess besides that I have whole novels written down my sleeves.
Most of my arm doesn't even look like an arm anymore
And the only good I can say about that is, I was 17 the last time I had to cover up my "mental health days" with bright blue mickey mouse band aids
that's four years of wearing my wrist band that reads "I have healed now"
My patchwork is messy, I have to admit, but it holds together nicely

And now that they're all just gentle interruptions..nothing gory or too scary to see..I wear my own skin so comfortably
I'm not proud of the disaster I left on my own body, but I'm not ashamed that I made it out alive either.

"I have healed now" but I was there when you burned your own house down to try to feel warm again, and it's been four years but I remember the way that cold touched my bones, I wear this scrapbook of knife work so you know that the good days are coming, one day they will only be scars, one day they will only be memories
even if it takes time

I make a habit of frequenting the bar across the parking lot
in hopes of casually bumping into you

I rehearse in my head the way I'll avoid striking up conversation
leave my number tucked between bills in the host book on the table
stroll out the door, I promise myself I will not look back

My therapist says my unmedicated mania is dangerous
because I turn into disaster, the way I'm longing for your smile

Today's my birthday and I'm finally old enough to sit quietly alone with a glass of bourbon, the way my father does
I scratch my fingertips raw on the table longing for the clicking of graphite nails
But I cut them to the quick when I spent two days worrying about what you might think if you saw my hands

and my driver spit dip and asked me about my life
things she probably doesn't even know about me
Which is fine
she was undressed before I took my boots off
she waved goodbye from the door of her apartment while her nicotine hands traced every curve from her pink lace lips to the dip where her thighs meet

I have only ever described myself as hungry when it comes to her
And she is the only girl I could ever wish to devour
Completely

how could I live with myself waking up beside her bones
fractured and splintered under the weight of I Love You's that only last until the next mating season starts

And I've been trying for so long to forget the way her palm lights my skin on fire but she told me that I had soft lips like she has never memorized this mouth of braile
like she doesn't already know what I feel like against every inch of her

She sent me home in an uber
and I'm an idiot for letting her convince me I could be safe here

tonight I'm celebrating 21 years of jumping head first through the clouds without so much as a goodbye kiss so we can just forget the parachute all together

You taste exactly the same as you did four years ago and I know that because I broke every rule I have ever made for myself so I could see you naked again

Does that sound ******? What I mean is, tonight I'm celebrating my 21st birthday and it wouldn't feel real enough if I couldn't still smell your perfume in patches in the back of my hair or along the collar of my shirt or anywhere your forget me not fingers have touched

Your taste in music and these black scratch tattoos are the only difference between the sweet 15 year old that stole my heart and the air from my lungs and all the blood from my veins and the nearly 20 year old pin up doll that only wants me when she feels lonely

But baby I've been lonely since I left you the last time so here I am
For you
Always

I swear it's nights like this
(I threw out my NA chips)
And I've had a few too many sips
And I can feel the weight of your heart shaped lips
Pressed against my eyelids

I've been trying to fall asleep for four months
Afraid to forget the way your eyes traced every inch of my fragile being before walking away for the last time

I know I look terrible in green
Rather be draped in this pale skin and
You
Always you

The last time we slept together I almost died when I had to pry myself from your arms
Or my arms from around myself
Or whatever makes the most sense in saying
I have missed you every moment since then

I don't drink anymore because I still don't eat and I can feel the alcohol tearing holes in my insides
And that's already your job
And you're so ******* good at it

I've been trying to plug these holes and their frayed edges with anything that sounds like the way you laugh when you're nervous

So what I mean is
I'm a liar
I drink until I feel light headed but never drunk so I know exactly what I'm saying but I have every excuse to pretend not to

When I'm pleading with the way you swear you'll never stop loving me
And I've seen you naked in the last two months since I've been home
And that would almost feel like a victory

Except

When I'm working
I have to hold my breath sometimes because I'm so scared of what I'd have to say to you if you ever walked in our front door to make you leave

Because watching you sit with in arm's reach might actually be the final death of me

And that would be a miracle

I talked to an old ex of mine about tiny magics and how mine is never dying no matter how hard I try

No matter how many words like bullets you shoot into my temples
No matter how many needles dipped in poison you watch me then dip into my veins
No matter how many times I tear out all my guts so I can hand you my heart again
And no matter how many times you leave it on ***** street corners in the rain

Do you remember how you would kiss my fingertips and how softly we would hold each other as I ran that blessed holy water of a hand down to the small of your back
Do you remember what your name sounds like in my voice

Do you remember
What it was like
Holding my blood red heart
in your hands

Isn't it such a relief that I can show up 40 minutes early to work every single morning because
I'm not out chasing my next high 10 minutes after I roll out of bed

What an achievement that when I hide in the bathroom nobody misses me because
1) I'm not even on the clock and
2) I'm not spending 20 minutes figuring out which of these abused veins will take my ******* with out talking back to me

Doesn't it **** that I'm here again
On these tiled floors
Cold and sick to my stomach
But at least this time my heart's still beating! And every one notices the bright blue tattoo on my forearm before they ever mention the needle point I've been sewing into the crook of my elbow for three years

And it's sad sad sad that I can almost see the look on my best friend's face when she pried my lifeless body off of these same ****** tiles

But today I'm just wishing I was
I'm not really high these days
So at least it's not that

IT'D BE THE ONE LOVE POEM I EVER WROTE ABOUT SOMETHING BESIDES GETTING HIGH ALONE

my sister would commend me on my ability to write something beautiful for once
that stole someone's breath in a way that sounds like "stay with me"
instead of slamming the door in your face

it would probably be a very detailed description of the way your lips move when you're talking ****
and the way your tongue brushes along your back teeth when you're trying not to smile when I do it back
which honestly might be the easiest part to write

it'd be something really gay about your terrible choice in flowers or the color lilac or the TINIEST of confessions that are really too small to hear

it would be stamped in gold stars
and sold as quotes by people that aren't me

and probably aren't you
but I think you'd be okay with that
because then everyone would know how I feel about you

and if I could write a poem like the way you talk to me
everyone would already know anyway

I am angry also that I have composed symphonies for someone who has turned out deaf

when you're his favorite version of the word "******"
translates more towards "greedy"
and you **** him when you're hungry
tonight I'm starving
and there's nothing graceful about our touching
I'm just desperate for that next hit

you still make appearances in my dreams
but only to taunt me with the parts of you I can never have
and I wake up tasting blood on my lips instead of you
and my chest feels tight
and ****
do I need you

fire hungry
ate up all the gasoline

our spark died fast(er than you'd believe)

CHILDHOOD ON MY TONGUE

looks so much like
-red cargo shorts and
-slit wrists long before 13

she, my white girl, smells just like
-bourbon
-and we figured out why everyone calls me MIckey
-cigarette smoke
-and drenching my house in gasoline

actually
I think ******* might be kind of bitter
or you are
it's kind of hard to tell when you kiss me after every line

I do know this
I love you both

and it's killing me

I miss you

like my dad's drinking habit
and how he only says he cares after he's punched me in the face

I miss you

like my mom crying in the hallway
because she can't stand to watch me **** myself anymore

I miss you

and how we fought
and ****** and ******
and fought
and never once did you say "I love you"

I miss you

like..
well,
I guess my point is

I don't.

heart beat. no air. empty lungs. breathe slow. don't move. heart beat. blue lips. heart beat. dial tone. pick up. pick up. sirens. no air. dial tone. voices. empty lungs. no pulse. pick up. pick up. 911. over and over. again. again. again. "I'm sorry". heart beat. needles. short breaths. come on.

teenagers run when they get scared.

he's just a boy. heavy pulse. blue lips. why.

why why why why why

sirens. "I love you". sirens. "I'm sorry". sirens. "I'm leaving now". sirens.

he's gone.
knock knock. "open up". "police".

I can't wake up anymore
WITHOUT WANTING TO PUKE

and my house is haunted
by a dead boy still walking

and he says that he's sorry


but I still can't breathe

today I am more afraid to live

watching a boy I barely know rot inside his own flesh

begging me to stop it

whatever it is that is killing him


my life has come to its turning point
I just wish I could go back


I'm sorry

it's 2 a.m. and I've been sober for a week and that's the longest I've been sober in months and you're asleep on the couch because you are too afraid to go upstairs after Matt especially at night and I have nightmares every time I close my eyes and oh god I am terrified

so I'm starting over

packed up everything with your name tattooed on it
and set it on fire
and I guess that means pieces of myself too..

so like a snake shedding its skin I don't want any reminders of you

I threw away my favorite jacket.
the black one
because it's the first thing you ever saw me wear
and when I look too closely at it I can see the way your hungry eyes ate up all the air between us
and I have never been sweet enough for you to devour

so I bottled up all my love magic
like a molotov cocktail
and watched it crash into the building where we met
the hallways that spelled out "eventually"
and "maybe this time we might get it right"

I'd burn out my bloodstream like gasoline
if it meant I could erase your handprints from around my heart

you exist in every corner of my life
the shadows in the peripheral of my line of sight
it's a shame that flames leave scars too and that's the only way I can think to get rid of you

but I'm getting used to the heat

I realized tonight that I don't love you
and the tattoo of you wrapped around my shoulders hasn't comforted me in ages

but memories are as deadly..

do you remember the night I fell asleep clutching a bottle of xanax and adderall
a concoction from hell
blackout and ****** that I can't trust either of us alone anymore
that's the first time you call me "******" to my face

and wasn't it a surprise that everything only got worse after that

remember when you'd hold me when I was terrified of waking up
and you'd sing so sweetly to sooth the rush of poison in my veins

remember when the blood trail behind the needle was ****
and making love is how we'd describe the way we ****** with our clothes on and the lights out

yeah, me neither

remember the first time we got physical
and it wasn't **** at all

YEAH, ME NEITHER
maybe because it happens all the time now

remember when waking up wasn't the scary part anymore?
because we were more worried about whether we were falling asleep
or just dying this time

you can count me out of that one, too!!
because I have been so ready to close my eyes for so long since you

remember the first time you didn't mean it when you said "i love you"
I wanna be certain we're thinking of the same instance
that I wasn't just months late to the punchline
of this ****** up joke we've been playing on each other ever since we decided to stop sleeping in the same bed

I swear to the only god that'll ever save me
whoever she is
I'll go back to the misery of meeting every morning like a battle field if it means I don't ever have to think of you again

but I remember everything you ever said
every time you held your head back while I traced your pale skin for a good place to inject our sins
I remember exactly what you tasted like the first time we kissed
after begging for all the percocet I had left

remember the way that I loved you..
and how dangerous it'd be
if I still did

I imagine getting high with you tastes like kerosene down my throat
like numb lips curled back in a halfway kind of smile
like trying to figure out which of these corroded veins will bleed best

I imagine getting high with you like 19 hours of switching between who's on top
like teeth on any flesh you leave exposed
like how many shots does it take for you to tell me you want me

I imagine getting high with you everytime I close my eyes or I see blue webs played out in the back of my hands
I need it like something terrible

I imagine getting high with you in snapshot moments and **** they taste so sweet but not nearly as much as
kissing you sober

the sun is hazy, dripping in behind the curtains
I am scratching wooden table tops, sorting bits of us into piles of each other
you'll take my lazy smile, I'll have your small hands curled into anatomically incorrect hearts
you are lying in waves against my mattress on the floor, one leg is wrapped around and around and around my waist as I work huddled over my wooden table top
the brown or beige fingerprints that determine who we will become when they set into the pores of our skin, marking the traits that belong to us alone, are unevenly built into sand castles
I speak as quickly as the sound of razors against the divets in my wooden table top, "a one night affair with her won't change how I love you, and I am desperate to know what she feels like under my skin"
you do not whisper but nearly scream the distaste in the idea of another woman in my veins, where you have been memorizing the paths to my fingertips
the plastic straw that brushes the edge of my nostril is striped, looks just like my left arm, instead of spotted like your upper thigh
I laugh too harshly and agree to stay to the quieter things
you convince yourself to believe me

the first time I cheat on you with a mistress sharper than the way you spit my name out of your teeth these days
I'm in the parking lot down the street from our house
the backseat of a blonde boy's blue SUV
I use an alcohol wipe, sterile needles and a cotton ball
I measure the water to poison ratio so that I know that it will not **** me
when I get home we lie in the grass in front of our apartment and watch the sun, it's hazy, or I'm just high
I hide the pin ***** under the ******* my watch and listen to the hands tick away the orange in the sky until it is dark

the last time
I am at a stop light on the way to your house, we're going to a meeting together
but I hurt so badly my teeth chatter as I pull with them the head band above my elbow
I pour a cap full of poison into my chemistry project and mix in enough water to watch it melt
I tear the filter out of my cigarette and count to three before pulling all of the dripping amber sunset into a needle that costs the rest of my sanity
I say your name in my head three times, can't find a vein, won't register, I never liked roses anyway
when she kisses me it is almost like saying goodnight
her voice sounds so much like yours and then I see you
piling into the backseat of my silver pick up truck
I whisper that I love you the most
you convince yourself to believe me

the first time you kissed me
I could've fallen out of the chair I sat in
begging to feel the weight of you against me

you kept your distance

the only things that touched
were our lips
and your hair curled over my cheek

the first time you asked me
"what are we? what is it we're doing? and what do you want?"
I swore that the idea of you falling asleep on someone else's chest didn't steal all of the sanity from my brain
that I could imagine the rest of my life only existing when you needed me

it's funny how much I didn't mean it, but that's exactly where we are now

the only things that touched
were my lips to the phone receiver
I can't remember exactly how many times you didn't answer

the first time you asked me to marry you
the first time I asked you to run away with me
the first time we fought with our fists and then

the only things that touched
were your lips together
when you packed up all of the things you could reach

and still keep your distance

you deleted every reminder of me off of your Instagram
the pictures of us on your graduation day
prom
our anniversary

I wrote you a love poem to commemorate three years
of falling head first into empty photo albums

I still have the picture of you the day we started dating
the day you drew me a tiny snail while you searched for the courage to ask me for my blood red heart

I remember when your hair was blonde
and brunette
when it matched your eyes
with small streaks of honey gold
like firefly trails in the dark

still have the pictures of your swallowed pride
my sweet girl
what weren't you willing to trade for the nights we fell asleep in each other's arms

you deleted every reminder of me from the poems you wrote
patted over our matching scars with foundation that didn't match your skin color
they are blotchy like the letters you wrote me
stained in tears and too many "almosts"

but I still catch you standing at the door of my gate
outside my castle made of tomorrows
not quites
but I know they are coming

just like you