I don't love you, not one bit.
But I do love it.

It.
The feeling of you creeping up my side
I'll dismiss you no matter how hard you try
To convince me that you've got nothing to hide.
That feeling of worthiness that only you can provide.
I need it.

Touch me. I dare you.
I love it.

I didn't buy this perfume for you.
But smelling me is the least you could do.
Smell me. All over. You know you want to.
It will make them so jealous; because they all want you.
They want it too.

I know I'm selfish, and I'm so sorry.
I think I'm addicted to you.

Do you dare to break a window?
Oh angry girl.
Your accidental outburst puts us all to shame.

What did they do to you to make you like this?
Is it really my business?
You made it so when you broke that **** window.

You kicked it. With brute force and intent.
What was the window supposed to do?
(Surely not break)
Well it did-

I pray that your regrets last until the next decision;
when another insect crosses your path.
Perhaps then you would choose a wiser action?

Oh angry girl, I will never know what angry thoughts you hide.
"It was an accident, not out of malice," Gail defended.
"How can you kick out a bus window without malice?"
The woman on the other end replied.

If I were air, I’d be the wind on your face as you try to get away on your bike.
Caressing the curvature from your cheekbones to your chin.

If I were brightness, I’d be the flame from your lighter.
Here to light your cigarettes and candles.

If I were clothing, I’d be your t-shirt.
Listening to you inhale defeat and exhale content.

If I were the darkness, I’d be your shadow.
Ever present during the day and holding you at night.

If I were a mystery, I’d be the ocean
You could discover my depth.

If I were a beat, I’d be the ticking of your wristwatch.
A reminder each second that time progresses.

If I were words, I’d arrange myself into a book.
A story to keep you company in the winter.

If I were a spirit, I’d be a ghost.
Silently witnessing how you live.

If I were an addiction, I’d be your last cigarette.
You’d desire to get more of my flavor.

If I were hopefulness, I’d be your ambitions.
In hope that you’d find me buried somewhere in your dreams.

If I were a body part, I’d be your fingernails.
Close to your lips when you become anxious.

If I were a color, I’d be red.
Living within your veins.

But I am not.
You put your hand up to block the wind.
You only strike my flame for a moment, and then put me out.
All I hear are empty sighs
And you’ve become afraid of what is in the darkness.
You’ve learned swim to shore, to escape my vastness
And my loud ticking at night drives you insane.
You’ve read me to boredom.
I feel your presence, but you feel none of mine.
You’ve smoked too much and can’t feel the high anymore,
And you do not dream any more. You only have nightmares.
Your nails are now bitten to the bone.
And you’ve bled yourself dry.

he doesn't like me for me.

he doesn't like me for my poetry.
he doesn't like me for my thoughts.
he doesn't like me for how i look.
he doesn't like me for how i act.
he doesn't like me for how i am.

he looks at me and sees not a person.

he looks at me and sees not a girl.
he looks at me and sees not a poet.
he looks at me and sees not a smart girl.

he sees a wasteland.

he sees a girl without love.
he sees broken skin and flaws.

he loves ruins.
he loves fixing people.

you can't fix everyone.
you can't fix a heart that has so many bandages on it that you can't tell what's latex and what's muscle.
you can't fix me unless i break even more.

do you want me to break more?
you love seeing me break.
that's kind of sad.
pathetic.
you love when i hate myself.
and i hate myself so you won't go away.

my scars are faded.
I hate it.
I wish my scars could be permanent.
tattooed on my skin.
if my scars held more weight,
if they didn't fade after three hours,
I'd be satisfied.
nothing stays, ever.
everything leaves.

and when you consider leaving too,
just remember that
I would never
leave your health in the hands of a broken failure with a blade.