His lips pressed against my skin like raindrops that fell gently upon my cold body. So gentle, so close. His love for me transformed, it grew until my skies were covered and his world was all I knew. The sensation he gave me was captivating, for I had always loved a storm. His smile hit me like a blinding streak of lightning, and it made me feel infinite. I was so lost in the thundering words that echoed in my ears, I was so incredibly obsessed with his hands and how they held me so tight, and I forgot that storms always come to an end. Slowly the raindrops stopped falling over my body so fiercely, his words ceased from thundering as they faltered to an echo. A memory. The ghost of his lips remained, like my love for him. Since the storm dispersed I sometimes fall in puddles of our forgotten love and I wish for the storm to return. A storm may be beautiful, but it will not last forever.

i’d rather write about the freckles on your back than think about all of the ways in which you quite possibly don’t love me.

i feel sick at the very thought of you picking me apart the way you did; fingers grabbing and stroking in a catastrophic symphony of skin and vulnerability.

let’s read between each other’s lines; share my sentences and punctuate my paragraphs with your mouth; because i can breathe easier on the mornings where i wake up wrapped around you.

because my moods change like the ******* seasons and the spinning in my head doesn’t want to stop.
                                         you tell me that i should probably get a therapist because no one that thinks about all the ways in which they could **** themselves has an ounce of mental stability.
                                          i tell you that i have been to four.
                                          names faded into a blur with hazy snippets of conversation remaining.
20mg.
                    30mg.
you tell me that trust issues and scars aren’t endearing and i tell you that neither is counting up the potential number of pills needed to dissolve your body into the living room carpet.

let me sink inside your skin and make a home in your flesh;
i tell you about the nights where i lay awake in the bath turning the water red.
                       tragic, isn’t it.

you tell me that this isn’t how my head should work and i tell you that i already know. everything you could possibly tell me i already know.
i know that 400 calories a day isn’t normal, and my hands shouldn’t shake all the time.
                                             i know.
please let me stitch myself into you, even just for a while; until i no longer feel dizzy and my world stops spinning.
i don’t need you to tell me that it will be okay, because honestly i don’t think it will be and, that in itself, is okay.
                                                                ­                 let me stitch myself into you, because my own skin can’t take it anymore.

let me call you back when my voice stops wobbling and my vision straightens out, but honestly, i’m terrified that it never will. what if this is it. headaches and tears and shaking and blood.
                                             and the debilitating, gut-wrenching feeling of pure and euphoric emptiness.

                                              tragic, isn’t it.

So here you are again
at the footsteps of the walls
I’ve rebuilt over
and over again
asking me to let you in.

I know
this is not the first time
that you’ve returned from your
wars with the world.
You are wounded and weary
Your eyes look so dead
I can see the graveyard behind them

You've lost so much, my love.
including yourself.

and you know,
if you would just let me
I would tuck all those bombs away,
Throw them to the skies
and let them light up our lives
instead of them
burning and bruising our bodies

but you won't give up arms

yes, you're reaching out
but you won't let me hold your hand

So we both know
this wouldn’t end well
my bones are still shaking
from all the trauma you’ve caused

my love, please understand
my heart is not a church.
You cannot just return when you feel like it
and pray for me to forgive your sins.
I am not a god.
I am only human.
And there is a limit to how much hurt I can take.

Do you think your “sorry’s” are enough
to sew these spaces you’ve sown in my soul?
Don't you know how hard it is to keep living
when all you've been doing
is leaving me behind?

I still love you.
I think I always will.
But please don’t think
I can keep on breaking myself
just to keep you whole.

I'm so in love with you
I'm head over heels.
I've fallen so deep
And I never want to leave.