She kisses the boys and girls
that pay the most attention.
The boys play with vapor
and her girls play with tension.
I wish I was the only one
that she will decide to touch
but I am who I am
and, in a way, that is too much.

Sawblade-sunflower petals
wrap around an earthy cushion,
and the humidity hangs in the air
as her beige body is crumpled
and I feel too sober, pushing.

Baby yellow falls apart,
in her hair the flower starts
to trickle onto sheet and pillow,
decorating the absences
that define how hollow
she and I have felt before --
******* like an endangered species
on the killing floor, I whisper once,
I whisper sweet, "Don't you wish
that we didn't meet?"

She kisses the boys and girls
that give the most attention.
I played with vapor
and she played with tension.

if love is not for us what are these butterflies

Chocolate colored Toms, Cool Blue and Navy, too,
North Face jacket, give me some individuality
I wanna feel ethereal; violently, annoyingly
happy. But the sky is as black as lonely cancer
without a soul mate; I know what it's like
to kiss as you erase her.

Hauntingly, melancholic instances ingrained
into my gelatin mind and
stayed.
And the smolder
from the brand on my shoulder
frayed.
I wish I could alter my reflection,
but the mirror I've bought,
somebody else
made.

Dear you,
I wrote you a letter last night in the middle of an anxiety attack. I didn't know it was addressed to you until about halfway through, but it only makes sense that it all comes back to you. I guess I wanted to write everything that was going on in my head onto paper, to stop thinking about everything and everyone, including you. I keep saying I'm happy for you that things are getting better for you and that you're happier now but I think everyone knows I'm just pretending that I'm not in ruins that you left me for dead. I hope you think about me sometimes, I hope you remember who I used to be.
Love, always,
Me.