Keeping myself awake until I'm too tired to think of you.
Because when I'm thinking, I'm not dreaming.
And all I've wanted to do lately is join as two.
There's this ache behind my rib cage, and a burning behind my eyes.
These sheets don't smell like you anymore, and I'm sleeping on your side.
This bed is my own again, but I can't seem to forget the way your feet cradled mine, telling me that everything would be alright.
They told me that skin regenerates every twenty eight days.
I still have twenty seven until I'm new, proving to be much more difficult, being without you.

Mistakes made, but what good are promises kept if your bed is the only other one on which I've slept? Bearing the scars on our hearts which we wear like the gold time pieces which we are. All the while making up excuses, although they are much more of delusions; explanations of poor behavior. And I'm waking up with bead head, thoughts of you in these tangles. But there's the lingering one that I can't seem to remove. My name flows through the arteries of your chest. Your name ingrained onto my spine, that way I carry you wherever I go. Longing for the way your lips sound out my name, it's burning that spot right behind my rib cage. Maybe I'll take an antacid, but it doesn't seem to pass and, I think I've begun to accept that I will hear your name in every word heard. I've begun to accept that Ill breathe in your scent with every cigarette I smoke. Your taste on my tongue with every word spoken. I'm sorry I'm such a lush, but your name's got me just as drunk and I can't seem to remember what it's like to be touched by another's hand but yours.

Late night conversations lead to early morning revelations. And there's the familiar ache of trying to erase a past that just won't take. Reminders of who I used to be when I look at you; but all I see is who I want to be when you look back at me. Lovers in past lives, maybe this time we'll finally get it right. Torn between a guarantee and a possibility, but please listen to me when I say that I'm sorry that you have to repeat yourself continuously. Its only because I'm trying to memorize the sound of your voice give me directions, when I get lost in the color of your eyes. Won't you just tell me how to get to where we need to be.

Look at me again.
Tell me how you love the way my legs feel wrapped around your waist.
My mouth has memorized the way you taste.
But I know that it's hard to forget all the things you two have faced.
And the blame that you claim is no ones fault but your own.
All this screaming's got my heart beating while trying to keep me afloat.
I'm drowning in your words, trying to save myself while you look past me.
Distracted by the fireworks, like fire in the sky.
Broken down and used up.
Just like that bottle that sat on my floor for twenty four hours because it touched your lips.
Let me trace the lifelines of your palm onto my own.
Watching the clock as if it's hands will bring yours to mine.

I want to press myself into your skin. I want to wedge my words between your fingers.
Let me see the dirt underneath your nails that have etched your face behind my eyes.
My chest is on fire, my soul is about to burst.
Stretchmarks lay across my chest; I think I might be making room for this.
But I'm so afraid to rip at the seams that run along these sides.
And I'll watch your lips for days, memorize the shape that they make when you say my name.
You've made a home in me, and with each word spoken I've helped to move you in.
We're nothing more than roommates in this soul of mine, but I'm biding my time so that I can keep on this rhyme.
My stomach is queasy, I think I better take this easy.
And I'm sorry that I embarrass you with each and every sip.
So afraid to make a slip.
Running away from you with every shot and chasing him down to make it worth every dress I've ever bought.

I forgot it was your birthday today. But I still remember what it felt like, when you etched your initials into my mind.
Or the way it ached, as the touch of your palm made my chest shake.
Picking out pieces of me, but forgetting to put them back.
Oh, you always forgot to put them back.  
I find myself constantly muttering to myself nowadays, that I release the past I left behind.
Putting myself first and back together now that we're separated by 3,000 rhymes.
I am more than the absence of your voice.
Stitching together the parts that make me whole, but never forgetting the fire that you set to my soul.

And I don’t think it’s fair that you get to ignore me and pretend that I don’t exist. When you were whispering my name the last time we kissed. And I don’t think it’s fair that you get to turn your back on me, while I’m left standing here to be. There’s these left over words still in my hands. They slip through my fingers the same way you slip right past me without saying goodbye. If the conditions of our existence depend on hurting each other then honey, you couldn’t be more alive. And I don’t think it’s fair that you get to act like we were never friends- as if keep away were still a popular sport. And I don’t think it’s fair that you cross my mind fifty times a day, while I merely sit in your palm as a pawn waiting to be moved night and day. I’m so tired of being told to sit and wait, it’s something I’ve begun to hate. But hates a strong word so I’ll say this instead, I’m done biding my time until I’m moved by your hand, and all the while you’re holding hers. Afraid of you staying behind and giving me more reasons to try to rhyme. Pushing and pulling and wanting to have my way, so I’ll sit here with nothing left to say.