One.
We passed a notable check mark.
The swirly twirly pieces of manipulated metal would put a smile on Buddy the Elf's face.
Their fabrication mirrored ours.
We swirly and twirly.

Two.
We thought smoking green at the **** recreation would be the least originated pun to occur. Notable check mark unflagged.

Three.
This temporary home has me craving for permanence.
I desire for your voluptuous voice to kiss my ears for a sense of familiarity.
Your printed face will be engulfed in flames.
I am a lady and we behave best under cliches.

Four.
It's the first night we won't video chat here.
The first day I will introduce myself as single to strangers and old acquaintances.
Your voice box will not be directed towards me tonight.
The first night I will not have to leave the room in order to be enchanted by your melody.
The air is stale with living mates and stories of home.
My story of home was our ending.
The room drew to a pinhead silence.
The voice of light cracking came from everyone's chests.

Five.
Socrates is impossible to pay attention to when the argument being presented is the dispute you and I. Who in the end is more wise?
Who has won this butterfly bullet shoot me in the face one more time so I remember what sensation against one's heart is like.

Six.
I saw two of them struggling, holding onto dear life.
She ran to him and gave him a passionate kiss.
They mirrored us, trying to sew up the stitching while it was being unraveled at the other end.
They needed to keep the needle and thread poking up and over up and over.
It was love's final desperation.
Final desperation of holding on.

Seven.
Mother was right, at my age my hormones just race just like my emotions.
It's been over a month since we've heard each other's voices.
The word "poljubac" came in as he went in for a kiss along with that your voice.
You loved kissing me.
At the end, they stopped meaning anything.
Your kisses, their electricity was diminished.

Eight.
I ran into Brian.
His sunglasses gave the same luminescence they did on nightly drives getting high and high and higher and higher until we were floating above Lake Shore Drive.
The green line brim on his hat matched the color.of the lights that showed during Christmas time.
It was a time for cheer. Oh ** ** ** the cheer.

Nine.
Looking through these pictures makes me sick.
I miss you.
Can we fall in love for one more night?
Have you call me duso and lay on the lawn chairs and only speak with our eyes?
Can you show me the hidden parts of the city one last time?
One last time.
Your fingertips need to be removed from my body although their prints have already formed scars.
I cut my hip because that was your favorite part of my body to touch.
I sliced it.

Ten.
I suggested that we get matching tattoos, so when you did leave that there would be a physical print of my being.
My physical touch of an idea to stay together forever would be inked in your skin.

Ten.
I'm about to embark on a spiritual journey.
My first lecture will consist on preaching of the Christian god.
Today is day one of this spiritual journey.

Nine.
I'm lying ****.
I lay on the floor and I'm **** as I sit on the floor and lie.
It was the first consistent kiss without you.
I'm lying ****.
I have time to find myself and instead I am shaking hands with my deviling unconscious greeting it with open arms.

Eight.
I have paved a path in the snow.
The bus ran over and rerouted my path.
I'm still lying.
I'm still ****.
I have lost the art of loving thyself and discovering my fullest potential.
I am a hypocrite.
I preach about the belief of discovering thyself as I bury myself in the snow and underneath these lies. The snow angels I made had horns on them.

Seven.
I lost sense of my personality when my phone was not glued to my hands and when I boy was not hanging from my lips, I lost sense of myself.

Six.
They called me into the room.
I was hoping you would be in the doorway as I strutted down the hall way.
Oh please, your grace to surprise me would fill every gaping hole in this heart of mine.
The ones that you left behind, learn to clean up after yourself.
Learn to clean up your ******* mess.

Five.
I cleaned up my ******* mess.

Four.
I'm learning day by day by day.
Today is our first month without the other.
It takes 21 days to break a habit.
I'm starting to stop thinking about you every day.

Three.
This heart of mine is torched, the pieces have melted together.
For once, I feel whole.
I asked of you last night, as bruises were forming from tackle football.
Our mutual friend said you've been better, and I asked him to make that happen.
He promised he would do his best.
The bruises were forming, they felt wonderful as the blood rushed to my skin, the blood rushed to my brain and heart it felt good to be alive.
It felt good to feel the flow of the blood against my skin as I gracefully stroke my hands across.
I discovered why you loved being in my arms because I fell in love with the feeling of being in my own ******* arms.

Two.
I fell in love, Emmett.
I fell in love with my skin the way it chaps when harsh winds beat it.
I'm in love with the way my nose wrinkles when unpleasant stories are told.
I'm in love with my spontaneity, for once I see it as a blessing.
I'm in love with my tongue rolling verbatim every time I have an opinion that needs to be preached.
I am finally my own preacher.

One.
The swirly twirly pieces of divergent thoughts in my head would put a smile on Buddy the Elf's face.
The notable check marks have been unflagged.
The pieces of shattered heart have melted together.
My skin is now my permanent home.
The tears that are now shed are for reasons I consider joyful.
You are no longer on my mind.
You are a check mark.
One that I shall pass when nostalgic.
You are the one that I wish best upon. I am the one that is best left,
now untouched.