you liked me before i was pretty.

everything was perfect,
except for you.

it rained on the walk home. 



2. 

a mouthful of forever’s
were tucked behind your tongue 

in exchange for a mouthful of lies

bursting out of mine.



3.

you were 7 different people.

i know one of them gave a **** about me
at one point.



4. 

you had a nice smile

and i was lonely
but just because somebody desires you, 

doesn't mean they value you.
and when i walked out of your house,

I realized that you had lied.



5.
we shared winter kisses on the mouths of bottles
making memories we would not remember
you had dark eyes that i saw light behind.

but you hated yourself
more than you could have ever loved me

and so i let you go.



6.

it was love at first sight between ***** iced teas and cigarette smoke.
we were poetry weaved of red thread
and acid sunrises.
my father told me to love somebody who had a passion in their life

- your passion was me, 

and so i let you go.



7.
i kissed you even though I probably shouldn’t have
in the kitchen of an unfamiliar house
but you were the best mistake I could have ever made
my blue valentine;
you stayed when I thought you would leave
and so my heart is yours

there are shadows inside of me,
residing in the crevices of my skeleton
weighing me down.
i remember you planted promises of flowers
in the crooks of my bones
but winter has come
and the cold feels like home to me now.

it was one of the most simplest of pleasures, lying in bed with a cigarette pressed between my teeth. sad girls smoke more, or so they say. the ashy menthol lingering on my lips tastes like you and the burn marks on my skin feels like how you used to tell me you loved me only when you made me cry. that summer is over and i am still picking up teeth that you knocked out of my mouth when you tried to pull me apart. love is a subjective thing, but how can you love something that is hurting you the most? you are the tar in my lungs.

the loneliest ive ever felt
was in your bed

i wrote you a note
in the margins of a piece of loose leaf paper
crumpled from indecisiveness
nervous hands unfolding, folding
scribbled static and meaningless metaphors.
i wrote until the taste of your name left my mouth
and i bled you out into every letter that i traced.

now you are more than tired eyes
and bruised knees.
you are more than scattered pieces,
and the stardust we had shooting through our veins

but something more permanent
keeping these naked moments
tucked between my lungs
and behind my eyes
and within words that you will never read.