too afraid to admit you ****** up
so you carve the apologies on your skin
hoping that somehow the pain outside
will help **** the pain within.

Both hands in my pockets, a blank page tucked in my shoe,
Call it a list of every little thing I wouldn’t give for you,
Traded the city for salvation, but found neither kingdom nor crown,
We were too young for such silence, and far too old to settle down,
Now standing on a subway platform, New York buzzing overhead,
My skull sick with the ghosts off all the things we never said,
Pale skin caked with shadows, dull eyes lit low with fear,
Please bring me back to you, or any place that isn’t here.

i remember the night we drove ten over the speed limit to make it to starbucks before it closed, because coffee always sounded better at 11 at night with you. and the mornings we woke up a little earlier than usually to grab breakfast before school, or sneak away to have lunch together. i remember the first time i skipped school to spend just one more hour with you, and all the times i ran late to practice because "five more minutes" was always so **** worth it. the memories run through my veins and i wish it was codeine because at least when im asleep i forget you arent mine. and i remember the last time i kissed you, but i think we forgot to say our goodbyes...

we promised that when we left this
town we would be leaving together.
i should have known forever meant never.

My silence is a barbed wire I choke myself with.

dating a writer
is like guessing the weather.
you think you know what you'll get,
but you never do.

you never know
because

she'll create a hero
from your weaknesses

and she'll write a great character,
from every last flaw.

she'll create a thousand plots  
from your worst nightmares.

she'll take every last thing you hate
and create something you'll love.

she'll turn your anger
into confessions of adoration,

and she'll make you,
everything you're not.

but worst of all,
she'll leave you wondering-
is it you she's in love with,
or things she's created from you?

but here's the beauty of it:

if you date a writer,
you'll never die.

your kindness is patronizing
keep your pity to yourself
i'd rather lose you
than lose myself

I cried taking my
birth control today
because I don't know the next time
I'll even see your face
let alone
feel your body
between my legs