you wake up
his hair is spilled across the pillow,
the sun slants across his cheekbone
and his breath is slow and even.
he smells like an open field
and his body is wrapped around yours
so he keeps you warm.
you think,
there is no moment better than this,
that he is too perfect to exist.
but you wake up gasping,
skin soaked in sweat.
you lie there for a long time,
in your completely empty bed.

“i am tired of dreaming about you,” i try desperately to sound indifferent, but my eyes are watering and he knows he knows he knows--

he smirks, closing the gap between us with only a step. “i am the only thing you will ever dream about,” he murmurs.

it’s 5:52 and my first thought is obviously of you
my eyes are wide and i go online to see if there’s any possibility of conversing
the first thing my eyes see are two sentences that my heart cannot withstand
the realisation that you’re moving on and i’m still stuck in heartbreak land
why is it that the good ones always hurt you the most but move on the quickest?
it’s 5:55 and at this point my mind is racing
flashbacks to a time that seemed to be golden
the first instinct to draw a crimson red because you still provoke a sickening anxiety oh how my head is in agony
but i suppress, knowing that i shouldn’t have to ask myself if that’s my blood.
and you answer, and somehow i forget what i 5:52 brought me

nights i used to spend lying awake are now spent in a slumber i never want to arise from
the detriment of sleeping for more than eight hours has since vanished, that's what sadness can do to a body
the exhaustion that comes from factors of my brain that i cannot control and a pain so deep rooted in the cavities of my heart propel me into a twelve hour slumber that feels like twelve minutes
dragging my feet on the ground like deadweight, my god i am deadweight
deprivation of serotonin can **** ones strength and energy, i have never been so tired
heartbreak throws a body into a boxing ring and tells it to fight the champ, while the body has been starved of all life
exhaustion has become my new state of being, someone save me please.

pain is beautiful, right?
that girl,
you see her over there-
what a **** shame.
she’s so sad...
maybe she’ll be my next
community service project,
maybe i’ll turn her pain
into shockingly bright beauty
see the boy over there?
his chestnut hair is disheveled ,
clothes rumpled like
he’s been wearing them for a week
straight.
roll up his sleeves-
those bright pink cuts are
still glistening ,
razor-straight like he used a ruler,
desperate
for even his pain to be perfect ‘cause
oh god who would accept it
if it wasn’t?
look at that wintery pale girl about
ten feet away...
look at that collarbone,
defined jawline!
aren’t you jealous of her self control?
her ribs are jutting out from
under her cheery yellow shirt but
as long as she has a “beach body,”
it doesn’t matter that
her organs are eating themselves.
don’t tell me pain is beautiful.
you can’t see what’s going on
beneath the surface.