When I’m sad I crave french fries

They taste like happiness is supposed to feel
like grease dripping from your lips as you sit back and enjoy yourself
like indulging a craving that everyone says will only make you fat and unattractive
and this
feels like a goodbye

French fries don’t ask you to talk about your feelings and
French fries don’t tell you ‘no’ when you reach for them
French fries only comfort and tell you that it’ll all be okay
because spending a few bucks on McDonalds is always better than taking a razor to your skin
the threat of gaining a few extra pounds is nothing when you think that I could be running toward a precipice with no hope of stopping
No desire to pause in my motion until I am airbourne
because Moriarty said that falling is just like flying
until you stop

French fries are always warm

They cool over time but by then they are making their way through a system made only to squeeze what nutrition can be found there
They don’t keep me up at night with cravings for more
because when I eat French Fries I’m only trying to sit here and live in this moment
because French Fries don’t tell me what I don’t want to hear and
French Fries don’t pull things like me like a string around a loose tooth and
French fries don’t slam the door

When I’m angry they taste like tears

I haven’t cried more than two tears since the day my heart up and left me
I’ve tried to tell everyone that being unable to cry doesn’t mean I can’t feel anything
except when it does
and maybe that just means that I am hollow and dry on the inside as well, maybe it means the soul I thought was old as my great grandmother’s is simply an empty space
But I don’t want to believe my being is half of something else
to be filled by someone who can leave any other day
I don’t want
to be desperate
but the grit of salt on my fingers feels a lot like missing you
so I lick it off
because they say that salt purifies and I haven’t felt clean since this time last year when you
got drunk and told me that you loved me

So I’m sorry if I can’t get to you through all the french fries
I’m sorry that I can’t reach far enough to grasp at straws and I’m
sorry that eating fast food is the only way I can find release and
I’m sorry that sometimes I think that maybe it’s for the better, you know?
because all this is just ridiculous and
we were supposed to get married and
I knew it was stupid to think so at the time because everyone says that high school can’t last forever and I’m
a senior

I’m sorry that I made you happy

because happiness is the only thing more devious than the male mind and
I told you that I would gladly let you move in if your parents disowned you and
I told you that I was thinking about you through spoken word poems I never got around to writing and
I told you to bring a blanket to that roof you watch the stars on to get away from your demons and
I told you that it didn’t matter to me if you relapsed
and
still you act like I’ve never said a word

but French Fries fill me from toe to crown and I
know now
that the taste of them fills me better than bitterness ever had and
that finding release in fattening strips of potato is better than
wishing I was dead every moment and

I’m sorry that I can’t do this anymore

So everytime I go to McDonalds and order one, two, three orders of large fries
know I always order one for Chelsea,
but I eat the other two for you
because to me they taste like Burger King
and an order of French Fries