When he asks you to write about him, remind him that you are not that kind of poet. When he asks you to describe his eyes, stop yourself from telling him how bright they are and how they remind you of the stars you stare at in the late night. Do not tell him they are brighter than any of those stars and while they may not light up the whole sky, they sure as hell light up your heart. Instead, smile and tell him that they are just blue – nothing is very special about them. He will ask you why your hands and lips tremble when you're with him, but you mustn't explain how fast your heart beats when he looks at you, or how sometimes you swear your lungs fill up with smoke when you hear him laugh soundly because of something you said. You shouldn't write about him, because you're not the kind of girl that writes about someone who could be here one day, and easily gone the next.

I've told myself that I don't miss you so many times, it feels like I'm starting to believe it. That's what they always tell you to do, right? "Fake it 'til you make it, baby."
I'm trying to be gentle with my words because I don't want this to be another angry poem. I've written far too many of those and they are always about you.
It's summer now and I'm loving you in raindrops. In swimming pools and stars. The thing is, I don't remember loving anyone but you.
Maybe this has gone on for far too long. It's been nine months and more than half of that time was spent waiting for you.
Waiting for your call, waiting for you to come back, waiting for you to love me half as much as I love you.
It has always been about what you want, and when it was most convenient for you. All of this has made me more vulnerable than I ever wanted to let myself be.
I remember someone once told me that love can be a form of self harm. I always loved hurting myself which would explain why i chose you.
Love is supposed to be gentle, and joyful, not full of sorrow and tears and pain.
Baby, it's always so dark when you are gone. I keep telling myself I won't let you do this, I won't let you leave and come back whenever you want to be reminded of us, but every time you do come back, I get caught up in the moment and the way you're so good with words and I'm under your spell again.
I can't function without you, but the feeling isn't mutual. I miss you the way I promised myself I wouldn't miss anyone. But I think I'm finally done waiting.

There is sea salt all over my hands, and I know I'm not the ocean.
So let's drink tea out of mason jars,
with cold porcelain shards instead of ice,
and let's cut our mouths on every argument we've ever had.
I hope you don't mind if I make a home out of you,
and I'm sorry if my spirit doesn't fit so well inside of yours, you see
I have been carrying dead weight with me like a terminated pregnancy,
and mourning the emptiness inside of me like a miscarriage.
Now it seems like I'm only giving birth
to the sorrow that my heart cannot hold.
Now I'm starting my mid-life crisis early, stating over, starting with you.
I'm writing my past into the sand, waiting for the tide to clean my slate.
So just wait a little but while I hold my breath hostage,
and I will wait for a ransom to come,
and I will pray that it doesn't come barreling down my door, looking like you.

I FINALLY REALIZED THERE'S A WAR GOING ON INSIDE MY CHEST BETWEEN THE PART OF MY HEART THAT HATES YOU AND THE ONE THAT LOVES YOU LIKE IT DOESN'T KNOW HOW TO DO ANYTHING ELSE BECAUSE IT DOESN'T. I REMEMBER LOVING YOU LAST YEAR AND THIS YEAR AND NINE HOURS AGO. YOU'RE GONE NOW AND YOU DIDN'T LEAVE ANYTHING FOR ME TO REMEMBER YOU BY. I'VE SEARCHED FOR YOUR DUST IN THE CREASES OF MY BED SHEETS AND I BET YOU'D BE GLAD TO KNOW I FOUND NOTHING. I FOUND ABSOLUTELY NOTHING AND I'M SORRY I STILL TASTE BLOOD ON MY TONGUE EVERY TIME SOMEONE MENTIONS YOUR NAME. I'M SICK OF HEARING PEOPLE SAY THAT I JUST NEED TO FORGET YOU BECAUSE I HAVE TRIED EVERYTHING INCLUDING TOUCHING OTHER MOUTHS WITH MY OWN, BUT I DON'T KNOW HOW TO STOP REMEMBERING YOU EVERY TIME I OPEN MY EYES AND SEE THEIR EYES ARE THE SAME COLOR AS YOURS. I KNOW I HAVEN'T BEEN ABLE TO STOP WRITING ABOUT YOU BUT I JUST CAN'T STOP TRYING TO EXPLAIN HOW I MISSED YOUR TOUCH EVEN BEFORE YOU WERE GONE, HOW NO MATTER WHERE I GO I SEE YOUR FACE IN STRANGERS AND NO MATTER WHERE I GO YOU'RE ALWAYS ALMOST THERE.

I don't believe that I was forward
but you pointed straight ahead
and I didn't insinuate our ***
but you gave me head in my bedroom
your legs, those legs
should not leave my blankets
your hair smelled like fall does
& your chest made me anxious
you laid there like a goddess
I should have hand fed you grapes
you stole my night and my morning
I should have asked you to stay
but it's okay
now it's daytime and i'm keeping myself busy
you left your smell on my fingers
& it's making me dizzy
I smiled as you left
& when you walked out the door
I saw your car leave the yard
& your ******* on my floor

THE LAST TIME I TRIED TO WRITE ABOUT YOU I HAD AN ON AND OFF HEADACHE FOR A MONTH AND THAT WAS OVER A MONTH AGO TELL ME WHY I'M WRITING ABOUT YOU AGAIN AS IF I DIDN'T LEARN MY LESSON AS IF MY HANDS AREN'T STILL NUMB FROM THE DAY YOU LEFT. I'VE STARTED DRINKING COFFEE IN THE MORNINGS I KEEP THINKING IF I FILL MYSELF UP WITH THINGS YOU HATE MAYBE I'LL BEGIN TO HATE YOU TOO BUT INSTEAD I HAVE THIS ACHING FEELING IN MY CHEST I SWEAR THERE'S A BLACK HOLE ******* UP ALL THE HAPPINESS THAT'S LEFT AND I NEVER HAD MUCH TO BEGIN WITH BUT NOW THAT IT'S GONE I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH ALL THIS SADNESS. MY LUNGS ARE FILLED WITH SMOKE I THINK I'M DROWNING I CAN NOT BREATHE AND I DON'T NECESSARILY WANT TO BECAUSE I DON'T KNOW HOW TO LIVE WITHOUT YOU. I DON'T WANT TO SAY MY HEART SHATTERED THE DAY YOU LEFT BUT YOU MUST HAVE THROWN ALL THE TINY LITTLE PIECES INTO THE DEEPEST PARTS OF THE OCEAN JUST SO THAT I COULDN'T FIND THEM. SO THAT I WOULD BE MISERABLE WITHOUT YOU. I'M JUST TRYING TO FIND MY WAY BACK HOME ALTHOUGH I'M NOT SURE I HAVE ONE ANYMORE, BECAUSE I GOT SO USED TO LIVING INSIDE OF YOU AND YOU LEFT. THE ONLY HOME I EVER KNEW ABANDONED ME AND I DON'T THINK I HAVE THE STRENGTH TO BUILD MYSELF A NEW ONE.

there was a little kitten he was just a stray
just a little orphan with no where he could stay
it was near christmas it began to snow
the little cat was lonely with no where to go.

suddenly he heard the sound of santas sliegh
it was near by not to far away.
santa he saw kitten sitting in the snow
santa stopped his sliegh and stopped to say hello.

kitten he told santa he was just a stray
just  a little orphan with nowhere he could stay
i will take you home said santa.you can stay with me
and alone again you will never be.

kitten he was happy now he had a home
someone who could love him and ever had to roam.
now he lives with santa and sits upon his sliegh
helps deliver presents every christmas day