I) Tell me about the beautiful boy you fell in love with. Tell me about how he bought you lilacs right before he broke your heart, and please don’t apologize for the ache in your chest each time you walk past the florist on Sunday mornings. I’m sorry you thought his eyes were your forever; I’m sorry you thought his arms were your only home.

II) Tell me about the way he spit out lies instead of kisses; and curse at the fact that he threw out all of your letters. I’m sorry about all those nights you spent etching pieces of your heart onto paper; I’m sorry you couldn't sleep for months after he told you that he loved her.

III) Tell me about how you’re getting better; talk endlessly about the fading lines on your wrists and tell me about how you've finally erased the acrid taste of his kisses. I’m sorry he will never be lucky enough to lose himself within the creases of your lips again.

IV) It’s been a year now my darling; and yesterday you told me you’re starting to see, that you’re the only home you’ll ever really need.

missing you doesn't come in short, ragged gasps these days.
I breathe better when I'm sleeping // the coffee in my mug  doesn't remind me of your skin // and I've finally learnt how to find love within.

And as I watched her lecture me
on love and loss and all that's in between
I couldn't hear her.
I couldn't understand.
Because I knew, she was talking
to herself more than me.
For my love and loss and
all that's in between
Reminded her of what she's forgotten;
Of who she's loved
Of what she's lost
and all that's in between.

Nothing would be better
Nothing could be more
That life of empty wine bottles
Rom comps on the tv
You nuzzled deep into my chest
arms around your waste
A filled living room couch
So drunk
Dreaming thoughts
of you, and you of me
So drunk

Green tea equations and cigarettes and
a distinct lack of food and
dark night lovely lonely walks and
maybe tomorrow
she will wake in a life
where she can love all parts of herself.

Can you feel that?
What a wondrous sensation.
She takes cold hands and
questions and buries them
in that empty stomach that
sings loudest when she fails
at sleeping. This girl with worn patches
and an overwhelming sense of
irony; there's too much to her
but still she is not enough.