"I need to tell you that while you forget me more and more
each day i think more about you all the time."
4:44pm

i read
and oh, god
how i laughed

i could say so much
but you know i wont


                                                  you know i wont

this is not a poem
more than it is a reminder:
*life goes on

i never read the end
of the book that you gave me
at the very beginning of us
because right now
you are exactly the same:

*you are like a book
i couldn't keep reading

"I still think about you all the time. Dont reply. But i really love you."
7:03pm

a.k.a.

"I want you to be okay. But i dont."

Thanks for the kindness.

i have two different ways to deal with the broken us:

1.
at night, i take as many pills as i can
i crawl to my bed feeling my bones dismantle
my body is full of sorrow
i miss you harder every second
and i think about everything you've done but still
my kind, melted side is praying for you to be okay

2.
during the day, i still have the same routine i had when you were here
now without you
i remember things we used to do and places we used to go
a thousand times
and all of them gets each time more terrifying
and i whisper repeatedly about
how much i wish it takes a long, hard time for you to forget me
that you struggle to settle down your mind
to take me off of your head
as much as i am struggling right now
and i wish that someday, when you think that
i have finally left your mind fully
we meet again

and maybe this time we can make it

my heart died a long time ago
and my brain became a monotonous straight line
but my body insists to keep me awake

i see my reflection
but i cant read myself
i can only stare

perhaps death has reached its higher point
and i didnt even notice

you surely made me want to feel
things i had never felt before
and i did
right there when you were holding me up high
you told me things that now slowly fade through time
and the only thing i can still feel is short of breath
caused by your hands around my neck
tightening
while im hanging on the edge
of this abyss that you are keeping me

i think that
poems about love
and our feelings
for other people
mostly *****
but we are willing
to see it as beautiful
because we have to see
our pain
or our happiness
reflected on others
otherwise we can't understand it
as real
we see ourselves on others
and identify a certain feeling
to feel complete
or accepted
somehow

i dont think of you as much as i used to
but i do think enough to still feel it hurting
i am just patiently waiting
for the day
that i will
think of you
with sorrow
for the last time

i never ever liked phone calls
but when you were here
and my phone rang
i used to shiver
wishing it was you
and smile
now you are gone
when my phone rings
i still shiver
but praying to god
begging
please
it is not you

not again

not anymore

i did all i could
to seem calm

talk slowly
move smooth
look away

you touched me
****, i was shaking

"****, it's so ******* cold"

when she had nowhere to go
she came here and slept in my bed
just before it all started

but i was the only one
who built a home

and my home walked away

i wanted you to tell me about the first time that you saw the sea
how is your sister going and if your piercing is okay
i wanted you to tell me that today you drank a very bad coffee or about the last time you saw someone crying
i wanted you to tell me about the last movie you saw and that today you took a different bus to go to work
i wanted you to tell me that you forgot your coat at your grandma's house and i wanted you to tell me how late you woke up today
i wanted you to tell me that you downloaded a very nice game for us to play together and that you went to a store just to look at yourself in the mirror and i wanted you to tell me how much you want to buy some new mugs online
i wanted you to call me anytime to tell me anything
anything you want: i swear i would be listen close, always. because i care so much.
i wish i was the person who you sees at the end of the day and talks about every little insignificant thing that happend. and over again.

i wanted you to tell me that you bought some beer and so we could drink and i could kiss you and taste the alcohol in your tongue again
and spend the rest of the universe with you, on your bed. (again



i really miss us)

there is no good way to say
i'm leaving you

but it is worse when you don't

i wish i had told you that i hate caper
or about that summer when i was 10
and stayed hours over the sun
trying to do a tattoo with lemon juice
or that i had spent hours telling you
all of the memories i have from my mom
and about the day my brother died

you know so much about me
but i wish you knew me better

maybe you would have stayed longer
maybe not

who knows

i know i shouldnt touch your skin
or kiss you because
im not as clean as you expected (and here i mean
im musty and my smile is rotten)

and i knew i wouldnt last three days knowing
i am not enough for you
still, i am lasting a year and it
hasnt been that bad

(f)all
i like you so much, and if i
was ever confused about something
i swear i understood the gap between
attraction and affection
i swear
i swear

i hate what i look like and
what i am
and i hate my own scent
but you
            are
                 not
                      like
          me.


and we are terribly similar