sext: the last time we kissed was september 28th. do you remember? my lips haven’t touched anyone else’s since you delicately destroyed me.

sext: it’s hard to fathom the distance between us, like my brain cannot believe the sea could be 4,000 miles long, like my heart cannot believe yours would leave.

sext: i wrote an elegy to you in my poetry class. i know you’re not dead, but it kind of feels that way, even though i can still taste you with every cup of tea. i’ve washed that jumper fifty times, but it still smells like you.

sext*: my mother asked how you were and i lied. i told her i hadn’t thought about you in months when i really meant that it’s been months since i could think of anything else.

sext: my hands are on your hips, my hands are around your neck, my hands can’t find you anymore. where are you where are you?

sext: your eyes are vast as plains and deep as canyons, and i can’t look into them anymore without falling.

sext: your faded white car is in my driveway and we are tangled inside of it, your breath hot on my collarbone. you feel like high school, but we both know we’re too old for this.

sext*: if i were an artist, i’d paint my love across your shoulder blades. i’d make a canvas of your chest. i would seep into every crevice of your sculptured frame and you’d never leave me.

Notes passed in class:
Circle yes no or maybe.

Pages torn from diaries and journals:
Tonight I think I might love...

Haikus carved into the metal floor of the hole where your books are hidden during a quiz:
"School's a chore learning
2B a bore 4eva
while even ugly ducks soar"

Texts sent flickerfast explain why we're still fighting.
ME:     And then you said...
YOU:  I don't wanna read this ****.
ME:    OMFG this **** is what you said!

Emails from spambots clot inboxes with poems that are better than those from most flapping quills and tapping claws,
because they have no reason:

"Earstwhile Hardly asked an clocks raging spleeded
Pills pull grimy stovepots into a curdle stoop.
Click Here.  Click Here.  Click Here."