March was the month that she was gone, and you weren't.
I was here and she wasn't.
And I'm sitting next to you in class, trying to pretend that I don't know that this is wrong.
But you know me better than that.
We hold hands while she's missing you.
We make plans because she's currently not kissing you.
And I'm dreaming.
And you're falling.
Or maybe I'm dreaming that you're falling.
Just for me.
You don't know what a night I've had.
My eyes vomiting tears into tissues because of your smile.
March was the month that you decided that maybe I was worth a little more of your time, and I wanted to throw away every clock in the world so you couldn't keep track.
We played games like little kids, we were just a never ending game of tag.
Chase me, I want you to chase me this time.
I keep tripping over my thoughts about you.
You make me never want to get up.
Let's fill the holes of what could've been with laughter excreted from lovesick lungs.
If oxygen cost money, I would buy your love instead.
March was the month that we both forgot the world.
March was the month that I forgot I was the other girl.
Now I can't help but to think about what she would do, if she knew,
Just how much
I wanted you.
March was the month that I remembered that you were my forbidden fruit.
My fifteen minutes of fame was up.
March was the month I knew, that by April, March's love, would be dried up.

Written by Alyssa Szczelina
4-18-15

Cold December nights.
Street lights and an alleyway.
Slick wet pavement shines from what should have been her radiance.
Shoes off and she's boneless.
Body made of rubber from all of the forget-me-not poison she drank tonight.
Tattered clothes and a thrift store conscience.
Blackened lungs and a liquid heart.
It conforms to any shape man its poured into.
She's walking to the studio apartment she tried to make a home out of.
But she has failed because you made a home inside her mind.
She looks for you in the ruffled hair and pearly white teeth of every man she meets.
Lets herself melt on the barstool as they buy her another drink.
Cinderella went to the ball and lost her shoe, but she went to the bar and lost her mind.
Pointless conversations are the soundtrack to her life.
She's spent her days cleaning up the mess you made with vacuums and Prozac.
Tequila and a strong dose of denial.
When will you learn not to snap fragile things?
Sleeping in the bathtub,
tears become bubble bath.
Numb is a good word.
Drink is a good question.
And you are her truth.

Alyssa Szczelina
4-18-15