Maybe it's even worse
when people compliment my poetry
Saying things like
that was so beautiful, and
you are so talented
Because there is nothing
******* beautiful about ripping
apart your heart and looking
for something, for anything to find
worth not hating
And it takes no talent to sit in solitude
and think and think and think
until the only place for you to
put the words you can't speak is onto
some crumpled up piece of paper
And they wonder why all poets live lives
full of love but more of loss
Living breathing and eventually dying
for someone who burned like the sun
and stung like frost.

For as long as I could remember
Your favorite month was December
You found solace in the solstice and
Snowfall and didn't particularly mind
Rosy cheeks or numb fingers

I had thought it odd that anyone
Could love something so cold and
Destructive and see it not as that -
But as gentle and serene

And I realized this was the very way
That you saw me
And I never questioned how such a warm
Heart could love so many unloved things
Again

Hearing his name pass through her lips was like lighting a quarter stick from both ends and taping it to my chest
And for a moment I remembered that once upon a time you were hers and she was yours
And you shared things like secrets and kisses and even bigger than that - love
And I remembered how one time your heart had beat only for her and my heart didn't beat for anybody because it could barely beat for itself, and suddenly I didn't want to remember anything else ever again

Sticking my nose in places in which it did not rightfully belong had never failed to be a flaw of mine
And along with that came an absurd amount of assumption making and curiosity
Like when I sat at the back of a cluttered classroom looking around at all of the people whose backs were turned to me
And I watched the girl who wore black shirts and ate assorted candies as she feverishly tapped her feet against the floor
Wondering what she was trying to distract herself from remembering
And I looked at the boy who never raised his hand for anything and while role call was being taken was barely audible as he spoke his name
Wondering who it was in his life that made him so unostentatious, and why
I glanced at the girl who sat in the corner of the room, the girl who always came to class with an armada of water bottles, now guzzling a soda pop
Wondering what other old habits she had given into
And then I looked at myself
With this pencil in my hand and all these thoughts in my head that only the insides of my eyelids would have the pleasure of meeting
Wondering if anyone was wondering about me

Falling in love with him was
as easy as collapsing into bed
at night and taking comfort in
all of your own familiar scents

And as routine as waking up
and expecting to see sunshine
peeking in through the cracks
of your blinds

Falling in love with him soon
evolved into finding solace in
his arms and serenity in his graces

And eventually you found yourself
subconsciously reaching for the
warmth of his skin and the
mess of his hair in your sleep

As you began expecting less
and less sunshine in the morning
because you took more comfort
in the knowledge that he would
always be at your side

Even if you awoke
before the sun

Suddenly
I remembered every single reason why
I ever fell in love with you
As you pulled me towards my bed
"I've just fixed the sheets," I had said
And without the slightest hesitation
"Let's mess them up again."