and i want you to look me in the eyes, read every line, and see exactly what you've done to me.

you said you weren't going to be around anymore so why are you everywhere?

i am sixteen and i want to be gone.

More than a little broken.

Sitting in math class realizing we are perpendicular lines who will never cross again.

i am dreading the ride home.

smile like you don't wish you were dead.

And i can't breathe again.

Dreams of my dark-eyed, dark-haired, alabaster-skinned boy chased away the pain last night, while the soft morning light and the silence of a house when it is far too early for life soothes me at last.

it's almost midnight and your memory is slowly killing me.

i was never one to become bitter over something like this, but you bring out the worst in me for a laugh.

go to hell and take your ***** with you.

i am tortured at night as well, by the ghost of you in my sheets.

and everytime the pain hits, i reach for pen/paper/keyboard like a ****** addict does a needle.

because poetry is my drug, and i hopelessly need the fix.

i wish i could break every bone in your body,
just to show you what you did to my heart.

I do not know how to get lost in you.

You trail your frozen fingertips across my arms and curl me close to you and smile, making jokes and creating your own nonsense words and phrases, drawing me in to your almost-black eyes.

I laugh at your imagination and rub your wrists as you draw circles on the back of my hands and lean on me, letting me relax into you.

Yet, I do not know how to deal with a boy who doesn't constantly try to touch more intimate places, who doesn't constantly talk about *** and isn't always asking for more.

I do not know how to deal with your tender compliments and small smiles and how you always say being cute is a personality trait, too.

All in all, I do not know how to deal with you, my only place to rest besides in words.

But I can try.

You ruined me and now you are ruining my poetry, stomping your way onto every line and using the only thing I ever found comfort in as a way to twist the knives within my back and heart.

I can't breathe when I see this-

5th period and I want to die.

You are now torturing me on purpose, i swear it.

Because now you are with her around every corner that i ever occupy, every hallway that neither of you ever walked down until now.

And maybe once you're finally gone, I'll start feeling better.

Or maybe your absence will **** me.

i have seen scarred wrists and burns and bruises marring the bodies of beautiful girls, countable ribs and thigh gaps and jutting hip bones.

boys destroying themselves in puffs of smoke and empty pill bottles, dry coughs coming from ruined lungs.

but nothing triggers me like you do.

i just want to drink myself gone.

i have lost the will to move from this empty bed.

all i want to do is sleep, but my mind quietly begs you to come lay next to me.

i know you won't, so i torture myself with thoughts of you with her instead.

I still feel like I'm suffocating beneath the weight of your memories

And I hate you and I hate her and I hate the empty cavity in my chest where my heart used to be

And my own insecurities are eating me

God please help me.

I am finally finished with you and everything you are.

(So why do I feel like my heart has been ripped from my chest?)

You are the walking parasite that made my story into a tragedy.

everytime i see you with her i die a little more.

every lie comes rushing back, about how she was "just a friend" and you "didn't even think she was attractive."

i despise you both.

Please just pack your ****, take the gifts back, and ******* leave.

The brilliant blue of the sky today made me think of the color of your eyes in the bright light coming through your car windows, and how she was right next to you driving, blissfully unaware that you were torturing me with pictures of your face.

I am as much of a victim to my own nature as anyone else.

and now that i can no longer stand myself, i find solace in you.

dark eyes and dark hair and long legs and artists hands, all pale skin and a lanky figure stretched across my couch, gesturing and laughing and resting a cold arm across my shoulders.

tips of fingers tracing across my own flesh like slim ice cubes, soothing and tickling at once, and my pulse finally slows and i get lost in someone else for awhile.

you plan to get high on easter and nearly every other day, you rarely speak but let soft touches and tight hugs convey what you can't say.

you told me you had never loved anyone and may never love anyone, and your favorite memory is of a cat you had as a child.

you smiled, but your eyes were black holes.

You probably shouldn't love me.

I will write about every detail I adore, paint you with brilliant vocabulary words that you will never hear come out of anyone's mouth, and idolize every breath you take.

I will romanticize your eyelashes and hands and the way your lips curve into a smile, slip you into every simile and metaphor, and my work will have you in every beat.

And when you inevitably crush me and let me down, (like everyone else), I will write our ending like some beautiful tragedy, and every so often, a nostalgia-inspired piece about you will arise.

So darling, darling, please. Do not bring me up just to crush me beneath my own glass dreams.

"This will be the last time that we see each other. And someday, 'i love you' will be as friends from a million miles away.

Good-bye Taylor. It's time to let go."

And now you're leaving to go fly planes and I don't know what to do anymore

You said you didn't want to be alone.

You did not want to lose your chance at being safe and content for a whirlwind romance with a girl you'd danced with in the dark.

You said we were like Romeo and Juliet, only I was Romeo and she was Paris.

And instead of throwing it all away in the fires of passion for a chance at romance, a chance to make our story end better, you chose the safe route.

You chose Paris.

And I sincerely hope,
that you cannot forget,
my cloud nine eyes and sugared lips.

My thin fingers on your chest, eyes flashing under neon lights.

I hope you cannot forget me and every sweet nothing spoken with damp hair and starry lashes.

And I hope everytime you touch her hair, you feel mine under your fingertips.

And when I finally let my broken dreams fall from my too-thin fingers, you were not there to catch them.

And when you finally stopped saying you were sorry, eyes like a stormy sea, you smiled like the sunrise.

And then you forgot me, like I was the clouds making your world gray, finally blowing away.

And when you kiss her at the end of the aisle, I hope you think of me.

And I didn't know.

How could I have?

How was I to know that my ocean eyed, long haired raver boy was her fiancee?

How was I to know that when he was kissing me in the dark, neon lights all around us, that she was waiting for him?

Yes, he is marrying her.

And no, she will never know my name.

Like I never happened.

You tasted like cinnamon, like summer.

You were a shade lighter than caramel, and your eyes were forever swirling, green and gold and chocolate.

When you made me promises, I dared to believe them.

I was wrong and you are a liar.