I guess I'm scared because
When you hear my voice
You don't hear wedding bells calling,
Only empty howls for naked nights.

When you stare at a light in a dark room
Everything else in the room seems to disappear.
Maybe this explains why every time I look at you
The world around me seems to disappear.

One. No matter how much you scrub at yourself in the shower, you will never wash the feeling of his hands from your skin. You will learn to be okay.
Two. His lips tasted like strawberries and you'll never be able to eat them again without tasting something sour.
Three. Getting under someone else won't fix your problems, but it will help you forget.
Four. Hearing her name will spark a fire so intense in your chest that you'll think all of the flowers have been burnt, but I promise you they will grow back.
Four. It will pass.
Five. He'll never get tired of the way your body feels underneath his.
Six. Let him miss you.
Seven. Let him be angry that he lost you.
Eight. Let him hurt.
Nine. Burn his t-shirt. Burn his boxers. Burn the love notes. Burn everything and let the ashes be the last of him.
Ten. He'll get bored of her too. Don't let him crawl back to your bed.
Eleven. You'll let his empty coffee cup fall to the floor and you'll let it smash and then you'll cry as you pick up the pieces and you'll write a dumb poem about how your heart was his mug and he let it smash and then you will delete it and then you will heal. It will be okay. You will make it.
Twelve. Your first heartbreak will never prepare you for your second love.

And when he kisses you,
you will not be surprised.
Although the timing was random,
you knew that he wanted to,
and you knew that he would.
His lips will part from yours,
he will smile,
and he will kiss you again.
It won't be soft like the first one.
You will not stop him.
You want this to mean nothing.
As his tongue traces your lips
you will retrace your thoughts,
wondering just when you will tell him
you don't know how to make love
without being in love,
but there is no love here.
When his hands begin to slide under your shirt,
you will not stop him.
You will begin to wonder if you are a tease.
You will begin to wonder how angry he will be,
you are not asking for ***, are you?
This is just a kiss,
A kiss is not consent.
You will realize your heart is racing.
You won't be able to tell what's moving faster,
him or your thoughts.
His hands will travel to your lower half,
and you will pull back from the kiss.
You will want to say something to his face,
but it's already heading downward.
You will not stop him.
Instead,
you will swallow and find yourself conflicted.
You want this to mean nothing.
As he begins to unbutton the denim,
you will realize your breathing is so sporadic
that you're getting lightheaded.
Your body is not getting excited in the way you want it to.
You want this to mean nothing.

It doesn't.

As his breath ghosts over your lower half,
through the remaining fabric,
you realize you chose the word ghost subconsciously
because you know this moment will haunt you.
And when he goes to pull the fabric away,
you will stop him.
He will be confused; he will be flustered.
He will ask you why,
and you will sit up, pull your pants on,
and tell him that you just can't.
He will be mad.
You will drive home with all the windows down,
you want to the wind to blow you away.
You will shower with cold water,
you want something else to send chills down your spine.
And when you finally lay down,
you will pull your blankets tight around you.
You want your body to regain its warmth,
its own warmth.
You want this to mean something,
it does.
You close your eyes,
and you will tell yourself:
"I make love to myself every day.
I wash my hair, I brush my teeth.
I drink water even though I hate it.
I sing along to songs in the car.
I watch the sky change colors at night.
I draw pictures of animals,
I take pictures of the sun.
I wake up.
God ******, I wake up.
I am my own best friend.
I am here, and I am not alone.
I have me.
This is all I will ever need,
and I mean it."