I heal so slowly without your touch,

Though I try not to need you so much.

You’re a forest fire; I’m just the spark,

Burning alone in this endless dark.

Each thought of you ignites the flame,

A warmth I crave, though it’s never the same.
Without your presence, I feel incomplete,

A flicker of hope where shadows meet.

I’ll admit it—I’m still codependent,

But you’re my balance, my transcendence.
Even when you close every door,

I only seem to want you more.

Your absence echoes through my chest,

A constant ache, a restless unrest.

You’re the gravity I can’t escape,

The unseen force that gives me shape.

I cut the rope; you fell from the tower,

But I still miss you in every hour.

Even now, as I think of you with her,

The thought of you alone makes my heart stir.

I let you go to find your way,

Believing love would bring you back someday.

But I’m locked in the memory, unable to flee,
Forever lost in the dream of what we could be.

You’re the choice I’d make a thousand times,
Even knowing you may never be mine.

I walk the edge of hope and despair,

Clinging to moments when you were there.
How do I move when you’re still my air,

A part of my soul I can’t help but bear?

You say nothing, but I can read your face—
A map of longing you can’t erase.

I see the words you’re too scared to speak,
Written in silence where our eyes meet.

Even as you walk a path I can’t follow,

Your heart’s compass points to love you swallow.

You’re not here, and it doesn’t feel right,

Like a song without rhythm, a starless night.
Say the words, and I’d be yours right now,
Even as she wears your love somehow.

Her touch may linger, but it’s not the same—
She holds the title, but I hold the flame.

I wonder if she sees the man I knew,

Or if the real you is hiding, too.

I dream of a love that time won’t destroy,

A bond beyond reason, untouched by the void.

I told you things I’ve told no one else,

Now they’re locked away on my own shelf.

If you called, I’d break every vow—
This fire burns quietly, but it burns for you now.

Each secret shared was a piece of my soul;
A fragile offering to help make you whole.
Though I’m silent, the embers remain,

A love unspoken, but never tamed.

Thanks to you, I figured out
What true love is all about.
I'll never cry again, the way for you I did.

A string tied you and me,
We were the best of friends and enemies.
We hurt eachother like no other unknowingly.

I've cried a lot in my life,
from laughter and all kinds of strife,
but never the way I've cried because of you.

You've brought meaning to my gaze,
Picked me up and told me it was okay.
I'd cling to you, your words like an embrace.

You've stitched wounds and cut me deep,
I'll always remember the secrets we'd keep, Thanks to you, for all our highs and lows

Because of you I'll always know,
just how far I can go.

Never make someone the center of your universe.
For eyes cannot see red flags, when blinded by light.

Would you come for me
In my darkest hour?
No my heart won't bleed
It just turns sour
This rotting flesh
Inside my chest
Only causes pain
Turning me insane

I saw eyes on every wall
I swear I saw you fall
Thought you died
But you were still alive
It was all in my mind
Our lives became entwined

I don't wanna write about you anymore
I'm tired of my heart growing sore
Im happy to see you've moved on from me
Im ready to let go and let you be
But the way you hurt me still aches deep

I asked you to come for me in my darkest hour
But you pulled away and my heart turned sour
I tried to rely on you
But you couldn't follow through
Clingy, codependent, smothering, decaying goo
Sometimes I feel that's all I was to you

So now we'll just be friends
And that's how the story ends

I’m alright, I promise. You don’t have to worry.

I know that every note I give to you now sparks fear in the pit of your stomach, and you skim over my sentences looking for words like “suicide” and “I’m sorry.”

When I hand you a note, you examine every word. From my handwriting to the ink I use, you take in every detail. You read between the lines now even on a blank sheet of paper, where there aren’t any lines to read between.

Your eyes are trained to spot the differences now. My life has become a game of Clue where you are the only player.

When my voice cracks, even the slightest bit, your ears have been conditioned to tune in immediately. You are constantly scanning for hesitation when I talk. You watch me to see if my hands shake, or if I bite my lip. You are searching for the warning signs that you think you missed last time, even though I never showed any.

They say that when you lose one sense, your other senses grow stronger to compensate. We say that we’ve become so close, but what we mean is that we’ve always been codependent. We did not bond over shared trauma; we bonded over a mutual fear of being alone. Our anxieties have molded into one huge, chaotic mess. Our fears have become so tangled that neither of us know who is afraid of what anymore. The only fear I am certain of is the fear of losing you.

I lost my ability to feel anything, and you developed a sense of hypersensitivity to balance out my numbness. I stopped caring about myself, so you started caring about me even more. You feel too much when I feel nothing.

I know you won’t believe me, but this is not a suicide note. You don’t need to worry about me. I’d promise you, but I’ve broken so many promises that I know they have no meaning anymore.

I cause you pain. There’s no use in denying it; we both know it’s true. I’m not trying to push you away. Even if I did, I know you’d come back. I have been draining your happiness and health slowly. Now, I am trying to rip off this bandaid all at once.

I’d rather you hurt from this revelation of who I really am. I’d rather you hate me for being someone who takes the easy way out, than hurt you by letting you believe that I have the potential to be in love.

I am capable of loving, and maybe I don’t show it the way that I should, but I love you. God, you have no idea how much I love you.

What I am not capable of is trusting. I love you, but I can’t trust you. I have no trust left, not even for myself.

And what is there without trust? Love itself isn’t enough to build a relationship off of. We talk about love as if it is a miracle. In every fairytale, true love is what saves the princess. Love breaks the curse. Love can turn a frog into a prince, a beast into a man. We talk about love as if it cures all. But love isn’t as powerful as we make it sound. You can’t love someone back to life.

I don’t know if I even want to save myself anymore, and you can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved. I am so grateful for your love, but your love alone is not enough.

I’ve always said I’m a realist; you’ve always said I’m nothing more than a pessimist in disguise. Maybe that’s true, maybe I do see only the negative side of things. But those negatives have kept me safe. I prepare myself for the worst so that I can never be disappointed, only pleasantly surprised. I can never be let down. In a way, I guess we’re both right. Pessimism has been my reality. This numbness has been my reality.

When you’re done reading this note, please tear it up into a thousand tiny pieces. Rip it, crumble it, destroy it. Make it impossible to reread. Please throw it away and don’t dig it back up. Please walk away and don’t look back.

If you turn back around, and if I look into your eyes again, I know that I will not let you leave. I will pull you back to me and let this cycle of destruction begin all over again. I hurt myself, which hurts you, which hurts me. It will not end.

When you go through the photos of us on your phone, please go through them quickly. If you have to delete them, then delete them. Deleting a picture doesn’t delete the memory with it. I know that, but it’s a start. One less photograph is one less reminder of me. One day, when you’re strong enough, maybe you can go back and flip through our old albums. But by the time you are strong enough to live healthily without me, I doubt you’ll still have them saved. One day, you will leave me in the past. It’s hard for me to admit it, but I know that is where I belong.

When you climb into your bed at the end of the night, please do not remember me sleeping next to you. I know how wrong the bed will feel when you get up in the morning and notice that there is no warm spot left on the other side. I know how strange it will be to turn over and not roll into my arms. This loneliness will feel like a foreign language, but please, learn to understand it. The words will eventually feel natural on your tongue, even if it doesn’t happen until your tongue is in the mouth of someone new.

When what used to be our songs play on shuffle, please don’t ruin them with thoughts of me. I want you to be able to hear their lyrics without pain. You deserve to smile when songs begin to play. I don’t want you to have to turn the radio off. You deserve to blast your music loud, and to sing without embarrassment. You deserve someone who will dance with you around the kitchen the way that we did once. You deserve someone who makes you laugh, and who makes you feel loved. Despite what you have made yourself believe, you deserve better than this.

These songs deserve to mark happy occasions, not to bring up bad memories. They deserve to be sung to, not cried over. They deserve to be shared with someone who’d mention their titles to you in love letters, not someone who only writes you suicide notes.

We stood on the flowerbeds
rooted in my ripe, velvet spine
We danced in waves of milky lilac,
the world was yours and mine.

For once, my mind was serene
although I heard a tiny whisper.
A whistle-blower distorted and mild;
I think you drowned her in the river,

Striking tapestries unscroll from your lips,
blindly shedding colours as the leaves fall
Lies were tucked snug under your tongue
and so was I, (it gets chilly after all),

You liked to pace ahead,
in a rush to build a promised fort.
I trudge behind you, stitching our skin-
a needle too dull, a thread too short

Thumbs hooked in my sunken stomach;
a snack for every time I strolled astray
but you were laced around my throat,
and so my hunger seemed to stay,

I drank from your stretched-out palms;
I waited for the day that it quenches me.
But a blade of grass in that barren patch,
is all that I will ever be

We went for these walks so often,
(I might as well have walked in all fours)
we danced in waves of milky lilac,
the world is only ever yours

                               a.r.

There's a cigarette between my lips.
I taste the flavor, inhale the familiar scent
even before I flick the lighter to life.
There's something to be said about the difference
between the thought of smoking, and actually seeing it through.
I'd be the one to say it, but my mouth is currently preoccupied.

The first inhale is like a breath of fresh air,
which is ironic, given the nature of the vice.
But there it is -- a sweet escape, a brief release from the world that I've been in and decided that I've stayed for one second too long.
A dark, smoky finger invading my senses
as a cat grazes against your leg,
soft, but heavy; intending to make its presence known
with the gentlest touch, the murmurs of a purr.
It fills my lungs, and in a moment of hesitation
I feel peace as though, at any moment,
I could decide that I wouldn't want to breathe again.

The exhale is slow, the puff slowly escaping,
ascending to the heavens, dissipating like
dew on the grass on some mornings,
the fog that covers the skyline.
All that's left is the ghost of what was,
for a fleeting moment, an affair from the reality I've known.

And when the fire dies down
and the **** gets extinguished,
there is only what remains on my lips.
Nicotine, your name, whatever the hell it is --
I just know that it's intoxicating, addicting;
every time I run my tongue over chapped skin,
it's as if I'm chasing the very last time I've ever tasted you;
And every swig at the cold, hard rim of a bottle
makes me think of sloppy kisses on a cold winter night,
hands fumbling, nervous giggling;
of promises pieced together through incoherent moans breathed onto flushed skin;
Of empty sheets and ***** clothes,
no phone numbers to call, no names to tattoo,
nothing that can tie me to the possibility of a 'next time';
"Because there won't be a 'next time';
there can be no 'next times'."
But I guess --
I chose the wrong day to quit.

The cycle repeats, the toxicity stays,
and yet I revel in the concept of
not thinking, not planning,
just -- being.
In that moment, under the stars:
As if Time had stopped, and the sky was alight,
and I felt like I had the whole world
fit in the palms of my hands.

Because for someone that tastes so, so wrong,
you feel so, so right.

Now that passion's embrace has left me cold.
I find I must stay away:
Deliberately, Intentionally....
With purpose and necessity.
Whenever I begin to cave in,
Lending an ear to those forgotten words.
All my hidden resolve departs.
Sweet betrayal,
How could I ever doubt?
My Dear, My Love, My Light...
Deceive me again.

Everyone says I'm a sweetheart
I am always making others smile
They don't know that I need to make someone else smile
Before I am allowed to wear my own