I keep finding bullets stuck between my teeth
The same ones you bought the day you decided the ceiling would look better covered in blood.
Maybe that’s why everything I say
sounds like it’s is trying to **** me.
But what do you do
when you stand in front of a mirror
with a gun to your head
and your reflection smiles back at you?
What do you do
When you stand in the middle of a busy road
And every driver is a different version of yourself you’ve tried to ****.
Every version of yourself
No one could love.
My mother used to get in fist fights with the mirror and expect to win
She says I look just like her
Maybe that’s why I wake up and can’t recognize who I am.
I checked the obituaries this morning
Trying to find myself again
It’s a habit I picked up from you
But I never thought your name would end up there before mine.
Sometimes I imagine what death feels like
Sometimes I imagine kissing you instead
By now it feels like I’m imagining the same thing.
Someone once told me that begging you to come home
Isn’t the same as praying
Maybe that’s why God stopped listening
and started smashing the windows of every place I thought we could be happy in.
Your smile looked a lot like the light at the end of the tunnel
Right before the train hits you.
I used to squint my eyes when I looked at you
Like I was looking at the sun
Or a car accident I wanted to be part of
I’m sorry I ever thought you could be anything ugly to me
You were the only beautiful thing in this hideous place.
I couldn't look at you clearly,
because I knew I would see my own face staring back at me and
your eyes were the only place I never wanted to be dead inside of.
You can only break your knuckles so many times
Before you cant hold yourself together anymore.
My hands haven’t stopped shaking since you left
I don’t know how to tell them you’re not coming back.
See, I used to say I never wanted to end up like my father
Now I have to say I never want to end up like you,
Which means I can’t leave without saying goodbye
But I tried to write my eulogy last night
And realized it's hard to write about someone I never knew.

I pack my bag. A girl approaches me.
"I love your jacket! "
/I hate my life./
"Thank you! Me too!"                  
I hurriedly make my way across the side walk.
" I really like your boots."    
/I really don't like being alive./
" Thanks! They were at Target!"
I glance at my tattered agenda.
" I wish I could do make up like you!"
/I wish I would get hit by a car. /
"Aww, thanks! You can always try watching YouTube makeup tutorials for help!"            
/I seriously need help./
I scribble doodles in the margins of my notes.
" I wish I could draw like you!"
/I wish I could have my life together./
" Thanks, but it's  predominantly in practicing. Draw like you, instead!"
I crumple papers with shaking hands.
" I dig your sense of style."                
/ I wish I had my sense of direction./
"Thanks, that makes me feel nice!"
I dig the dirt beneath my jagged nail.
" You always look so cute."
/ I always look for reasons to not **** myself./
"Awh, thanks! I try."
I slouch into a computer chair.
"You look tired."
/I'm tired of  my life./
" I'm actually not. I just have naturally dark circles under my eyes, is all."
I glance up at a familiar face.
"How are you?"
/I'm drowning./
"I'm ...surviving. ."

I fell in love with The Smiths
before anything else.
Ever since,
all affection is met with
sheer inadequacy,
and a near insufferable sadness.

Keep it safe
in familiar territory.
Nothing non sequitur.
Nothing out of place.
Don't go sailing off into outer space.
Stick to topics that relate.
(Ignore how everything is connected to everything else -
not everyone thinks that way.)

Nothing out of left field.
You've got to save some face.
There's a reputation (somewhere, somehow) to maintain.
Be polite, pleasant, and plain.
Leave the madness in your brain.
Hide your heart;
keep it tucked away,
and above all else,
don't go digging up those corpses from their grave.

"Wonderful weather we're having.
Isn't it a lovely day?"

There's so much more to life.
That can't be all there is to say . . .

On the day we met
You asked me where I lived
I told you two blocks that way
You laughed and said I live to blocks this way

Today is our wedding
We are dancing to the smash hit country song, "Meet in the Middle" by Diamond Rio
It's super cute
Your right hand in my left
My right on the small of your back
Room for Jesus between us
There is a prescription of steps we are fumbling through
I can see your eyes dancing through the room
Picking out Instagram filters for the memories you've shared with each of the people who are looking at you and whispering at each other, "how cute"
The life you have walked to arrive at this middle that we have found will make you smile
A brand new bride glow in your cheeks

We have run through our choreography too quickly
Neither of us are particularly talented at dancing so we slink into each other
Your arms wrapped under mine and around my shoulder blades
We are dancing like eighth graders
The dance floor fills with your family and my friends
The song is faster than a slow song
We dance slowly anyway
So does everyone else
It is cute

You glance over my shoulder to pick out Instagram filters for the road I walked to find this middle with you
And when you do
This song, "Meet in the Middle" will feel like the biggest lie you have ever told
On the day we met
You were walking towards the possibilities of life, humming to yourself, "High-**-High-** it's off to work we go" a skip in your step a smile on your face
I was shuffling with my head down, whispering, "just one more step, take just one more step"
You are about to feel very guilty for never having realized how hard trusting this 'happy' has been for me
You will be crushed under the weight of my past
I will spend every moment of this marriage, for however long that may be, trying to make you believe this was not a mistake

I lean into your ear as the song dies down
I whisper, "It gets better"
You smile a smile that will define our marriage
While your mother will cackle at my mother,
"Oh aren't they're just so cute."

I really need to shut off my brain.
It's cloudy,
and not a good place to be.

I don't want to *******.
No, I want to be the midnight air
seeping into your pores,
witness the horrors
of your mind
and make them no more
I wish to row,
                    row,
                           row,
gently down your stream
of consciousness
and to arrive safely
at the solutions
to all your heart's
conundrums
and hope to God
that I am one of them.

I'll make love to you,
if you want to, too,
or lie silent in the night,
syncing heartbeats,
never touching you.

But I don't want to *******.

I want to set sail to your words,
to conquer the ebb and ride the flow,
establishing allies and vanquishing foes

I want to know the history
of every mystery
that you find compelling,
to correct your m̶i̶s̶p̶e̶l̶l̶i̶n̶g̶s̶  misspellings.

To be the lyrics to your favorite song
to be the sunrise when the nights get long
Yes, I long to be the object of your sideways looks
and to sleep between the pages of your favorite books

To stare in admiration at your eyes
like constellations
and wish on every star
to know every part of who you are

To have my sun-baked skin
be consumed by the waves
on the curves of your face

To trace and map
every landmark
on your effervescent skin
and be the nervous sweat
that clings to it

I want to let your strong lungs intake me
and let your cool air sustain me
and pray that you might save me
a spot in your heart

I wish to start pulling your mind's
fibers and wires
and to start a fire
under your frozen tongue
and be the unsung hero
who rescues you from yourself.
I want to silence your loudest thoughts
and embrace your silent tears
and I want to make this clear:

I do not want to *******.

I want to be inside you.

in 10 years
your body will be
covered in ink
and i will look back
on the days i used to
make the most intimate
c o n t a c t
with the flawless
ivory silk you called
skin, a version of you
that was young and
pure