But your touch on my skin was the thing I probably missed most because after self medicating I rubbed away a tear and my finger felt like how you’d trace circles on my back and the feeling lingered on my cheek.
Remembering the warm, soft and everlasting feeling that your fingers dragged into my skin and into my hear.
Because the next time I smoked a cigarette I remembered how that afternoon your lips tasted like ash and after I asked you blew it off and then later you were traced with the smell all over your clothes because you had a few more.
Because I can’t listen to certain songs without remembering that afternoon we giggled and screamed as we jumped around my room dancing with fake guitars to ****** music videos.
Because I couldn’t lay in my own bed the same for a year the same because I remembered which side you claimed as yours the day you came into my house and I always couldn’t touch that side because I thought you’d be there and I’d only feel your presence if I were to lay there.
My bed now lays in a new location because I couldn’t shake the idea, even now I can’t.
Because I can’t go to certain places with friends because we shared our love there because I can remember the parties and dates to the park to avoid our parents and even that awkward movie we saw together because I was anxious and you thought I was pathetic so I told you I’d go and after to reach for your hand to only have you pull it away.
Because I remember when she met you with me and I couldn’t understand after all this time why she was so excited to be with me.
Because I remember how my heart sank when I heard that you’d gone to see her alone and when she became your friend and then I became a fool and you used her name after you finished spitting on mine.
Because I remember waking up and panicking because I thought you’d killed yourself the night before, you didn’t listen to me, you wouldn’t answer my calls and you broke up with me and then the next afternoon I broke down crying in class because I saw your name finally appear on my screen.
Because I remember the first time you took me to your friends party and your best-friend questioned why I wasn’t sitting on his lap and I hesitated not because I wasn’t comfortable with him i wasn’t comfortable with me, I tried my best to not sit properly.
Because every-time I step into my room I remember how you always acted in this mess of a room, laying on the floor acting the *** and the time you hid my phone and helped me look for it so you could just be with me for a bit longer.
Because I can’t forget the time you went away and once you got back we’d broke up 3 times and I couldn’t ******* see you because the night you got back I got **** drunk cause I didn’t want to lose you but you were only away for 2 weeks but couldn’t see you till the 3rd because I was grounded. I remember how we hugged meeting in the middle of the street to my house and then us racing to the field by my house and taking pictures and running around.
Because I remember how you held me while you watched my favorite movie and I thought you weren’t paying attention until the end you turned to me and said: “you know, I agree with Jim Carry because he said to Clementine when they were on the ice ‘I’m right where I want to be’ and I am”.
Now I can’t watch that movie because I cry only twice rather than at the sappy parts. I cry when I hear him say that quote and when the credits appear because that’s when you held me tightest.
— started keeping a log of things i think of you when i’m high.
-j.p.

We spend so much time editing ourselves,
correcting every little thing that displeases.
Even my poetry is revisited,
trying to pretty up all my diseases.
But I no longer want to appear "neat" or "tidy".
I want to show the world all the things I am hiding...

It is difficult to do the right things,
some times I would rather sin,
but then I remember
Who gave me new life again.

I lay in my bed too long when I wake,
trying to read my bible,
but like the disciples
I fall asleep...

I am too ******* myself, thinking I need to be perfect.
Other times I don't try hard enough,
out of fear that it isn't worth it.

I struggle to forgive, others and myself.
I struggle to realize only I can choose to not live
in hell

I want to restore relationships, but sometimes I fear it
hurts too much.
I am working on remembering
Who is my source of love.

My biggest admission, is that I try to control.
I want to tell God how to write the story,
thinking my words are some how better or more bold.
When in reality He is author of every single thing.
I am reminding myself I am lucky to even be written
into a single page.