with his breath on my neck, his brown italian eyes exploring my body, he whispered, "i want to educate you, physically and mentally," and i shivered, a whole body shudder, longing and lusting, wanting him to take me by the hand and show me the way.

subway
ed sheeran, especially give me love, our ******* wedding song
black and white photos
england, you wanted to show me everywhere
6"2'
the fault in our stars
always
italian, why did you even feel the need to say ti amo
*****, you were drunk when you said it the second time
5.30am
scars on people's wrists, don't be silly, you said it was an accident
collar bones
tumblr
dreams, the good ones were mine, the bad ones were yours
voice recordings
11.11 wishes, the ones you promised you'd help make come true
the word ****
succulents, like on your windowsill
bastille and cars, you would always sing along in the passenger seat
postcards
airport and train station reunions
all those songs i played just for you on my guitar
my sister's birthday, why did you have to choose that date
you're perfect for me, you swore you weren't a liar
***
the anne frank house, where you were ******* texting me from
february 26th
melbourne's federation square
your name was in a movie and i started to cry

the night he told me he loved me, he held me in his arms and said, "are you crying?" as he surrounded my shaky body, and i told him, "no, i just really do ******* love you, too."

i emptied myself of tears, ran my veins dry of blood, and etched mindless scribbles into my head in an ink so dark that your face disappeared. i reached out to touch you in the black but you were never in reach, separated by borders both invisible and tangible. wanting your lips on mine, i murmured, stay with me, and wondered why you wouldn't.
only after did i notice the horror on your face; the bruises in the shapes of my palms on your chest, the shadow of my fingers lacing a cage over your heart; the words i'd carved into my own skin, an endless taunt begging you to go away, but it wasn't you who i wanted to leave, it was the monster inside of me.

in your backyard, a summer evening, daylight dropping low behind clouds and trees on the horizon, and light from the kitchen window illuminating a slanted square of freshly cut lawn. you and i, we drew as far back from your house with your parents and the rest of the world as we could, hidden in the far corners where we couldn’t be seen, leaning against the fence and smoking cigarettes amongst your mum’s rosebushes. this is where we liked it. this is where we filled fancy glasses and sipped stolen champagne - or you sipped and i quietly poured most of it into the garden, wondering how much wine it would take before it started killing the plants - and contemplated what we’d do with the rest of our days.
i had some ideas, and they all included you.

won’t you keep my photograph in the pocket of your ripped jeans, tucked in tight and close so you can always hold me?

we made a resolution with our heads bent close together in the fading dusk and danger zone of parked cars on a highway. a pact and a promise we'd keep. we put our pinkies together as a shake that meant yes, always. always. silly and stupid is who we were, leaning past the steering wheel and the straps of our seat belts to find that spot in my neck.