What happened to all those,
I love you's,
And I couldn't live without you's?
Are they all just gone?

I do envy those who claim they have never been lonely. I envy that they have never felt that pain like I so often have. But I also pity them. I pity those who haven’t fallen to the lowest depths of human sadness. I pity those who have never climbed down the ladder of depression into the deepest well of suffering. Because if you haven’t experienced the misery, if you haven’t experienced the total absence of everything good, how can you expect to appreciate the joy?

You were always
an early bird, and I wasn't,
but my favorite thing was
to stumble out of my slumber
and hungrily look at my phone for a text saying
wake up
to which I would hurriedly respond,
though three hours later,
and you knew I would,
so as soon as I did as you predicted
you would command me to
drive the less-than-ten-minutes to your apartment
so you could cook me some
breakfast,
and we could get lost in each other.

You made me eggs and bacon
and always a biscuit with my choice of topping,
and you'd put on whatever CD we
currently found relevant,
that one time I know it was Ne-Yo,
and I chomped on my plate full of yummies
so cheerily
as you made me listen so closely to
lyrics you knew I would
just
get.

10 AM and I was somehow
thrilled to be out of bed,
enjoying the way the sun peeked behind the clouds
and stroked my cheek
as we shared a smoke on your porch.

You were the kinda guy that
made me like mornings,
that made me
feel the weight of the words in songs,
that made me appreciate art
and notice how pink
the sunset was,
that made me want to read the newspaper
so I could pick your brain and
pay attention in class so I could
tell you what I learned,
that made my world brighter
and my burdens lighter.

You were you and
you made me a certain kinda me and
**** do I sometimes still wanna
wake up
and eat some eggs while you
tell me your dreams and
your stereo plays.

We are critical.

We find flaws in
everything we see
because nobody
wants to write
about perfection,
even though sometimes
we wish we could just stay
staring into that
unblemished surface.

2. We are never satisfied.

We live our lives upon
mountains of
scrunched up
bits of refill and
ideas we gave up
trying to
express.

3. We never forget.

We write words about
eye contact made
three months ago
that we replay over
and over in our minds
even though it
stopped
being relevant.

4. We are fickle.**

Our emotions flash
from one
to the other
like strobe lighting that
disorientates us
until we feel as if
the world
will never be still.

5. We are exposed.

We don't know how
to keep our feelings
to ourselves so
we'll write them
down for
you to find
'accidentally'.

6. We are vulnerable.

We wear our
hearts on our sleeves
and won't lift a
muscle to fight back
if somebody tries
to break it
because we thrive
from the pain.

7. We will never stop.

We will never stop
feeling and
we will never stop
hurting,
we will never stop
breaking and
bleeding and
loving
even though the cycle
is endless
and we know what's
coming next.


We are addicted
to agony,
but we agonise
for the art.

I had to look up
the word
'dating'
on Urban Dictionary
because I didn't know
what we were,
what we are.

And it said things like
'a socially acceptable
form of prostitution' and
'feelings of
puppy love that usually
dissolve
in a few weeks'.

But this is
not
puppy love.
This is not going to
dissolve or
fizzle out or
whatever,
you're not a
fizzle
you're a *******
fireworks display.

And you turn
everything in my head
into this
multi-coloured
turbulence and
I can't keep up with
how much I
adore you.

But the thing is
I don't know
if your view
is as good as mine.
What if you're
looking at something
a little less
beautiful.

What if I'm your
fizzle.

What if I'm as
temporary
as the flame you use
to light the
cigarettes
you find more
addictive
than my touch.

If that's the case
I'd rather
I left you
craving.

Because
if I'm your flame
you're my
forest fire
and you're burning
it all down until
the only thing left
standing is
you.

And I'll walk for
miles across this
carpet of ashes
just to feel the
softness of your skin
against mine.

And I'll cough
and I'll splutter
on toxic smoke
but you'll just
breathe it in because
you never realised anything
was even
lost.

You don't see me
crawl
you just know that
I'm here,
I'm here
I made it
I'm yours
I'll always be yours
because there's
nothing else
left.

And maybe
I can be
content with that
if only
you will see
that
you could burn down
everything
and I still
wouldn't put you
out.

you're the skip in my chest
and the gasp in my breath
and i really need you
to let go of this hold
you have on me.
you're the stalking of my shadow
and you know it,
everything i will ever say or do
gets filtered through you.
let go of me
i don't need you to survive,
you **** me as a whole
and lately i've started to realize
that the bruises and the burns,
the remains of every part of me
i find are because of you,
because you hurt me.
because you fooled me with comfort
and buried me in my own mistrust.
when i look in the mirror
all i see is you,
when people look at me
all they see is you,
and that's really starting to scare
me because how do you
escape something
that you've become?