And now that you have ruined my love of stars, I turn to broken things, (like our relationship) and galaxies, (dead, like our love) instead.

Facts: the people who made me happy are no longer here. And they would no longer be interested in making me happy.

Memories are just that. Memories. They will not happen again. They just stay with you, like shards of glass embedded in your brain.

Crying will not make things better. It will not make you feel cleaner. It will only make your eyes hurt and remind you that he is no longer here to wipe your tears. And even if he were here, he wouldn't.

the sound of the gunshot will be the final scream i could never release.

you have hurt me for the last time.

*i'm ready to walk into the ocean, and never surface again.

As your fingertips traced my freckles into constellations, I wished I could have loved you, instead.

i know that i'm all wrong for you but i can't help but miss you like hell.

the necklace you gave me has your last name on it, and i can't help but think of the days when i really believed that someday, it would be mine.

And you know what's insane? Our method of beating time was setting the broken clock in my room to the time he got there, closing my black curtains tight, and then sitting in my bed, pretending everything had stopped. Pretending like the sun wasn't going down outside, like the world wasn't still moving around us. Acting like every clock in the world didn't exist, because my room was suddenly the only world in existence and there was nothing else. Because that moment is saved forever, in both our memories and the book of the universe, and that clock won't tick until he's back for me. That moment is going on forever in my room, time stopped until his return, and I want nothing else.

you are what makes me want to die, and what i live for at the same time.

i just watched forever slip into fifteen minutes. and then i watched fifteen minutes turn into nothing at all.

it was strange, sitting there realizing we fought a running clock for almost two years. seeing what had once looked like forever become more like seconds, and knowing we lost, because we never could have won.

we fought the clock for almost two years. but time always wins, in the end.

I want to strip us of our skins, the things keeping our hearts apart, and hold you so close the spaces between our ribs are filled by one another's.

today is the last chance i have to say good bye.

i hate endings and i hate closure. because closure means accepting that it's all over, that it's the end. and seeing the end hurts worse than leaving blank pages.

Blood is the color of my love....paint your world in the crimson shades of my affection, and replace every drop of red with your sweet nothings.

and right now, i just want to hold you so tightly that you fill the spaces between my ribs. i long for you to become the blood in my veins and the air that i breath, because i want all of you...even the parts invisible to me.

3 a.m. and my demons are dragging me in.

Dr. Pepper and memories of you.

I really should stay away from boys like you.

Who take me to their rooms and don't go anywhere near the bed, just put their arm around me and tell me about themselves. Who touch my cheek and look at me for a moment when they talk about things they love.

The beautiful, innocent ones with stars in their eyes. Who introduce me to their parents and hold my hand and hold me and don't try anything in the dark.

Boys who I really, really don't deserve, who eventually see that for themselves and leave, taking a piece of my heart with them.

Boys like you, honey.

i'm thinking of the galaxies in his eyes and the stars in his lashes and the dark silk that's his hair and how soft it looked, how soft it was and how the fringe was up just a little bit and how for some odd reason, it made me think of feathers. and of how soft his hands were, how uncertain and when his arm was around me and he bent and kissed me but moved back like he'd been burned and how his laugh sounded over the phone and how his lips danced around my name...how huge and dead his pupils were, how lost when he looked at me-but not really at me, past me, through me-for the last time..

i love you even more when you hate me.

You've got outer-space eyes when you hate me.

remembering your long lashes and wide eyes-brilliant, with the stars shining in them-makes my heart stop...

you've got a galaxy in your eyes, *but it isn't mine..

why aren't you in my arms?

i still can't believe you had the audacity to come back.

and now, you've come back.

with nothing but a ****** apology, and an invitation to your bedroom.

You left me with ears full of lies and a shattered heart. You told me you'd never leave, and now you're gone. You said you loved me. You said she was just a friend. That she wasn't even attractive. I knew you liked her before you knew, and you tried to hide the fact that you took her to every schoool dance this year that you went to. I tried to pretend like I didn't notice. You pressed me into walls and couches and fences and kissed me till I couldn't stand, sunk your teeth into my lip during our fights, and swore at me for being stupid before swearing you'd never leave me alone again, because I really do need you and I do a lot of stupid things without you. I know I wasn't good enough. You took her to the place you said you would propose to me at. She wears your jacket everywhere, either because she really likes it or because she breaks the heart of every guy she dates and got ****** in the practice room at school and you really don't want to end up like the guy you stole her from. I hate her face and I don't mean to, but she knew about us and she still ripped you from my chest. I know I said a lot of venomous things to you. I believed you when you said you wanted to marry me. When you got on one knee and asked, I said yes. Clearly, you've forgotten that. I wonder if you're going to marry her now. Yes, it probably seems I moved on fast. I was kissing girls and boys and swapping love notes with saliva and telling someone new I loved her within weeks, but we both know how she is and neither of us meant it. I'm with a new boy now, one that's happy with me and doesn't constantly talk about his first love and lie to me about some other girl. He's mine and I'm his. But you hurt me a million times. You hold her hand inches from my face or put your arm around her like you used to do with me. You shoved me aside, literally, to run to her and throw your arms around her. You are a senior and you graduated yesterday. Well, good. I hope I never see your face again. And within a month of school starting, she'll have replaced you with some other guy.

I'll laugh.

and i want to apologize for not loving you like i should have, but for the record *you don't love me either.

i wish i were holding her hand for a reason other than to hurt you.

you looked like a young god in black.

i'm sorry, baby. things really weren't supposed to be this way.

and sometimes, i think about how i'm not very good at loving without the sting.

because my love is a tiger, a thornbush. my love is ****** teeth in the dark and hungry marks all across your skin, lovebites.

my love makes you ache and swallows you, searches for the most vulnerable, broken parts and occupies them.

so please understand, that i do want you to happy. and i really don't want to see you hurt. (but in the very same breath that i tell you that i hold your joy above all else, my poison mouth drips with possession, with making you mine.)

please **** me.

today was the last day i may ever see your face.

*and i am having pretty mixed feelings about that.

and if i were ruled by something other than my heart, i swear, i wouldn't be doing this.

fingers locked together, but something feels different. looking over and thinking, "oh."

*because the hand connected to mine isn't yours anymore.

i'm waiting for my fingers to forget how they felt laced with yours, and my palms to forget the warmth of you against them.

it's been 34 days and i've forgotten the feel of your lips on mine, as well as bits of our very last conversation.

*and i'm really not sure if that's a relief or a tragedy.

dear S.

I hate you. I really, really hate you. Every time I see you, I want to break all the bones you have and light your paper flesh on fire. I want to shatter your dreams like you shattered my happiness. I want to take away anything you have ever loved and will ever love, because you took away the only person who ever had my heart. You cracked three ribs ripping him out of my chest, and it seems you bruised my lungs as well. I am left with broken-glass memories, puncture wounds from snapped bones, and scars beneath my skin. So *******. ******* for being the springtime girl he always deserved. ******* for being the lamb he always wanted to protect. ******* and your big blue doe eyes and your fluffy blond hair. ******* for being the innocent little ***** he always deserved. ******* for being my complete opposite. For being a daisy while I'm just a thorn. For not having devious, hazel, almond-shaped eyes and long, wild brown hair and pale, fragile skin. ******* for offering him something I never could.

******* for pretending to be a friend when all you wanted was to steal the only person who ever made me feel.

And I especially hate you for making me into an angry, bitter harpy. Because I was never a violent person. Never this vicious. But you've shown me a jealous, furious side of myself that I never knew existed.

Someday, I hope some pretty girl who is nothing like you rips him out of your chest and breaks everything you try to hang on with. I hope she flaunts him in front of your face and leaves you with destruction and ghosts of things you didn't know you could miss so much. Then, you'll be just like me.

Another broken, beautiful thing, dead at his feet.

i would never ask you to return to the hell that is my mind, but i can't help but resent you for leaving me alone in here.

i would rather let the memories i held so close to my heart fester and **** me, as a wound, than lose them. because losing these pieces of the past would mean losing any ghost of you that i may have left.

it's been over 27 days since you last touched me.

my skin cells are all new now,
like you were never here at all.

and i will never understand people wanting a clean slate, to meet someone else all over again.

because if we met again, i would never have had you at all.

and i would rather sit alone and let our memories **** me,
rather then lose them,
like we never loved at all.

i remember how you actually helped this insomniac sleep at night.

(now the hole you left in my chest keeps me awake, burning and aching in a way that makes me afraid to close my tear-misty eyes.)

and i have a million problems to drink away this weekend.

*a family history of alcoholism is one.

god i just want to light the world on fire.

(will you hold my hand as we watch it burn?)

i wish i had a vice besides *love.

every good boy leaves because in the end, i
am not what they wanted at all.

they wanted white-picket-fence springtime girls, who wear dresses and smile like innocence and blush when you hold their hand in public, shy.

not me. not rose-thorn walls and ****** teeth. not a girl who cusses and fights and claws at anything that lashes out at her. not a girl who won't let them fight her battles and stands on her own, lacing her fingers with yours because you are hers and she will fight tooth-and-nail for you, and she wants everyone to see that.

they want someone they can settle down with and have a nice, cute house and a pretty cherry tree and pretty little kids and have homemade breakfasts and listen to the birds sing in the morning.

they do not want a girl who sleeps till noon and drags them off on wild adventures and wants to go everywhere. who hates the shrill chirping of birds and uses black curtains to hide from the sunlight daring to slide through her windows. Who can't cook to save her life and holds on far too tight.

no, i am not what you wanted. but i can't be anyone else.