One year ago, a world without you
seemed almost unfathomable.
I thought that if we broke up,
my heart would stop beating,
time would end,
everything as I knew it would crash.

When you broke up with me,
all of my worst nightmares came true,
and now I can't even look back on us
without everything crashing down
onto me,
a tornado of memories
a hurricane of tears
and an earthquake inside of my heart.
The world almost did end,
and I wouldn't have been surprised
if hell froze over or pigs started flying.

It's been almost six months,
and I can't stop thinking of you,
remembering our good times,
remembering out bad times.
The only thing that I can't remember
is when things changed.

When did we stop smiling during kisses
and stop telling each other our secrets?
When did we stop trying to get to know each other
and stop talking all together?
When did we stop trying to fix us,
and just allow ourselves to fall apart?
When did you stop wiping my tears away,
and when did you become the cause of them?

The good times were like laying in a field of flowers,
bathing in the warmth of the sun
and finding shapes in the clouds.
The bad times were like a harsh frostbite
after walking for hours in a blizzard.

Who would have imagined that we would end up like this?
Your number deleted off of my phone,
And not a word exchanged in 4 months.
I remember our new year's kiss of 2014.
The tight grip on my waist,
And traces of a smile across my face.
But now it's only been twenty-four minutes into the next new year,
And I'm already spending it with tears in my eyes.
To think we started off a year together
And ended things only eight months later
Really shows you how much time changes people
And makes them into a person that you didn't fall in love with.
I'm sitting here missing you,
And you don't even give a **** about me.
So go enjoy your next 365 days without me,
And go kiss some other girl to start off the new year.
Lord knows that it won't be me,
And I'll never let myself back into your arms.

I will always remember the day that we broke up.
My tear-stained face and your stoic expression said it all.
The second that you walked away was the moment that
the dam broke and all hell broke loose.
Tears drained themselves out of my eyes from the pain
of you ripping out a piece of my heart and taking it with you.
The piece that was taken was the part of me
that knew how to laugh at the simplest things,
that blushed when you spoke my name out loud,
that wasn't broken when something reminded me of
you.

The internal hemorrhaging was more than I could take,
and all of my strength in that moment was put towards
not collapsing on the stairs in front of my home.
Each step you took felt like a stomp on my chest,
slamming into me with a purpose.
With the same force that you used to break my rib cage,
my palpitating heart fought back with passion.
While my body broke down,
my heart was the only thing trying to save me,
because Lord knows that once you turned your back to me,
you were never going to turn around again.

With one last look back at you,
I saw your eyes, filled with remorse and sadness.
but I thank God that you didn't ******* come barreling back,
because as hard as my heart was fighting for me to stay,
it fought to push you out of my system as quickly as possible.
If you enveloped me back into your arms,
overdose would be inevitable, and it would take
God’s ******* grace to save me from the damage you have done.

Lord knows we were a match made in heaven,
but star crossed lovers were never meant to last.
We’re no Romeo and Juliet love story
because I will never **** myself.
I didn't have to worry,
because you already did it for me.

i wonder if the doors in the house you grew up in
started slamming themselves to save your father the trouble.
i wonder if you can remember the last time you prayed,
and if you had trouble unfolding your hands.
i wonder if your mother knows
about the collection of hearts you hide in your closet,
i wonder if she could tell mine apart from the rest.
i wonder if your shoes know the reason why
you keep them by the back door and not your bedside.
and sometimes, i wonder
if you ever think about that night when i told you,
you wouldn't need to drink so much if you had me.
but it seems like we only speak when you've got body on your brain,
whiskey in your glass,
your judgement is overcast,
and you know i'm too weak to ignore you.
i learned how to translate your texts
from drunken mess back into english.
i am fluent in apology, but i don't ask you for them anymore.
this is just how it is.
it's not enough for either of us
but ******* it we are not above settling.
so i will ignore her name on your breath,
and you will ignore the fact that this means something to me.
i always thought the first time i kissed you,
it would be on your mouth.
i just wanted to be something warm for you to sink into,
something that could convince you to stay a second night.
but i sneak you out in the early morning,
and you take a piece of my pride with you when you go.
i am left to nurse the hangover from a wine i've never tasted,
wondering how this is possible.
waiting for the next drunk call,
for the next time i get to pretend we are lovers,
the next time i get to live out the fantasy i am most ashamed of.
it is the one in my head where you want me when you're sober too.

- m.f.

The stretch marks spiraling down my hips
and in between my thighs
look like scratches made by my demons
trying to claw out of me.
I promise that I’ve kept them inside of
me for so long that they will never escape,
and my future lover will never have
to deal with the problems that I hold within me.
The thunderstorms that fall from my eyes on rare occasions
leave deep ruts upon my face
so that my rivers could flow with ease.
I promise that you will not drown in these bodies of water
because they know how to hold back
when I am not alone.
The thoughts that the mirror implanted inside of my brain
were so impure that I had to repent my sins
when I walked into church.
I promise that these thoughts have left
along with the man that used to love me.
And I promise that I have learned that
only I can love myself like he said he did.
I painted myself,
but I am no artist.
My heart writes a symphony with the beats
of my anxiety, my fear, my hope,
but I am no musician.
I penned these words on paper,
but I am no writer.
My self-portrait is far from perfect,
for I am nothing close to a masterpiece.
But despite all of the flaws and **** ups,
I promise you that I am still beautiful.
Look at my stretch marks;
They are not the scratches of my demons,
but they are lightning bolts that Zeus himself
placed on me out of respect and love.
Look at my tears;
They are not a sign of weakness,
but a sign that I am alive,
with the feelings of sadness, compassion, and love.
Look at my self-loathing and loss of love;
They did not bring me down.
I picked myself up and rebuilt myself,
my foundation strong and reinforced.
Flaws make up my entire being,
but that does not make me less of a masterpiece.
I made my self-portrait,
and I am perfect.

The very first time that I injected
you into my veins was
the first time that I ever felt true
euphoria.
The high that you gave me
was the single most addictive feeling
that I could ever experience in my life.
My addiction lasted for
one year
six months
two weeks
three days
eighteen hours
twenty-three minutes
and fifty-two seconds.
When my supply ran out,
I crashed head on into withdrawal.
Symptoms varied from
sobbing, to emptiness, to nausea,
to the crippling fear of
no one ever loving me again.
I knew euphoria,
oh, God, did I know euphoria.
But the black hole in my chest
******* me into myself
until I barely knew
my own identity
was so foreign to me.
The darkness claws into you and rips
apart everything that you thought
you knew about yourself.
Losing my drug was like drowning
with burning lungs
and ignored screams
and watching you walk away
instead of saving me.
The weight of the universe sat
upon my shoulders and
held me down.
No matter how hard I fought,
I just could not pick myself up.
The wind was knocked out of me
at the mere thought of you,
and it took just over a month to
stop my blood shot eyes from
shedding any more tears.
The initial detox, however,
was not the hardest part.
Continuously living without
you in my system
took its toll.
At night, I reached out for you
after having a dream that I
spent one last time in your arms.
My mind played cruel practical jokes
when it told my eyes to see you
every ******* where that I go.
My waist still feels phantom touches
from when you came up behind me
and wrapped yourself around me,
becoming one with the girl you loved.
My hands shake and quiver
as if tiny earthquakes are rupturing
inside of me
because they crave your
warm hand to hold.
The bits of you that are still
left in my system are no longer
the drug that I once knew.
You are now a poison
that runs inside of me.
I wish that you would have just let me
overdose
instead of force me to crave you.
Detox lasted for a month and a half,
but living without you has gone on for
four months,
three weeks,
six days,
twelve hours,
seventeen minutes,
and fifty-one seconds.
It did get easier after the initial hit,
but the ache of you
has never left my bones.

The sunlight hits your eyes
and they refract like
a green and golden diamond.
A tiny ring of emerald
in a warm pool.
Looking into them gave me
the feeling that your warm
embrace would.
This was supposed to be a
poem about the things I love
about you,
but you made it into a poem about
the thing that I lost.
Now I just drown in the
memories and I barely
stay afloat.
Oh, the way I disturb the water,
clawing my way to the surface,
Gasping for a breath that
won't end the burning in my lungs.
Every breath is a curse,
and every intake
is a reminder that even the
best guys who have a smile of gold
and a laugh that makes angels fly
can shatter you into a million pieces
with just five words.
"I'm breaking up with you."
All it took was six syllables to
induce the flood of the nile
and the rumble of an earthquake.
A natural disaster of words,
blowing away my sanity
and ******* up my tolerance for pain.
You were a hurricane,
washing away my happiness and
destroying everything that I had.
I was just a mere thunderstorm.
You were always stronger that me.
You forced me to start over
and my monsoon tears washed away
the memory of your face.
The only time that I can see you
is by looking at photographs.
Even then, my vision is blurred
by the rain that leaves permanent stains
on what's left of you.
You are locked away in a safe place,
but sometimes I wish that those
photographs, letters, and gifts
would burn.
You were like a soft breeze
in the way that you only stayed for
what seemed like a brief second
and disappeared without giving notice.
I need to let you go,
but I miss you.