I told you I was
leaving and you asked me
why. Do you actually want
to know? Are you asking
me because you will miss
me? Are you asking me
because you are sad? Do
you care about me? I
want to tell you that
I will be back. I
want to tell you that,
if you are sad, you
don't have to be. I
would never leave forever. I
could never handle being away
from you. Should I tell
you that? Or should I
drag on this facade and
see how you truly feel.
You asked me why I
was leaving, and I still
haven't answered. Why am I
leaving? Do you love me?
Oh God, I hope so,
because I love you more
than anything.

Do you remember the time
I came to your show
and watched you play
for the first time?

You moved so rhythmically
and you seemed so happy.
I couldn't stop smiling
at the way your fingers
strummed the guitar
so smoothly,
or the way you jumped
up and down
when the chorus started.

Do you remember the time
you came to that party
and we got wasted on that
liquor
that tasted horrible?

It was beautiful
how you didn't care
about the taste.
You drank so much that it
dripped down your chin
and onto your shirt.
You took it off and
left it on our bench,
and i slept with it the
entire night.

Do you remember the time
my mom saw us walking together?

She pulled over
and asked us if we needed
a ride.
It was so beautiful how you
danced along with us to that
****** music
that I know you hate
so much.
I loved that day more than
anything.
That was the day that I realized
I loved you.

Do you remember the night
you told me about her?

You said that she came to
your house.
You told me that you got
high with her,
and about how you were scared
when your neighbor came over
and threatened you.
I hated the way
you laughed.
I know you only
laugh when you are
genuinely happy.
Does she make you
happy?
Is she what you
want?
Do you love her like I love
you?

I can't help but think that when you're
     with her, you're not thinking of me. You
say you miss her and my chest tightens.
     When you say her name, my heart
stops and sinks a little because I
     wonder if you tell her about me. I
wonder if you've told her about the
     time you came over to my house at 2
am with that bottle of *****, or about
     how we talked for hours about your
family and how you hate God. Or
     how about the time we went to that show
together and everyone was sweating
     and jumping and how you searched for
me through the crowd? I wonder if you've
     told her about how our bodies were
pressed tight against each other, or
     how you were whispering the lyrics into
my ear like there was no one else there.
     I always wonder these things, but I
figure you probably

     don't.

You're stuck in every corner
of my mind. Even here,
in this car in the
middle of the day, you
sink into every crevice and
corner of my thoughts. What
do you want from me?
Why are you doing this
to me? Why do you
want me to suffer so
drastically at the mere thought
of you? All I want
is to be happy but
I can't because your face
haunts my brain and I
smoke cigarette after cigarette trying
to fill my head with
anything but you but
it doesn't help. Please just
leave me be. I wish
you never existed.

Every time I begin to think I am getting

over you, I am proven wrong. If I go a

day without speaking to you, I can point

out your flaws. When you're high you

talk too much. When you're drunk you

get angry. You sometimes don't show

empathy for other people's emotions.

Your hands aren't fragile. You don't like

the smell of incense. You argue with

me over things that are not important.



But when I'm with you, your excessive

talking is cute and interesting. When

you're angry, I get excited. Your lack of

emotion towards other people doesn't

bother me because at times i can

understand it. Your hands are rough

and ******* my skin and I like the

sensation. I don't light incense around

you because I much more prefer the

flicker of candle light across your face.

And when you argue with me, I can't

help but feel love. All I feel for you is

love, and I ******* hate it.

I can't get you out of my ******* head
no matter how hard I try.
What did I do to deserve this?
All I can see is you.
You're in every corner of my brain.
Lurking, lingering.
I can't stop crying and smoking
and I feel so numb when I see you
with her. I hate you. I hate you with
every inch of my being because I
love you so ******* much. Why
do you not feel the same? I thought
you loved me? The way you looked
at me that night gave me so much
hope, but I guess you were just
drunk.

I guess I was wrong.

I'm trying so hard
to get over you.

Your scent no longer
lingers in my bed.

Your voice no longer
fills my ears.

Your face is no longer
visible to me

because you aren't
around anymore.

It's so bittersweet
because I want

so badly to see you
and to have you

smile at me and
laugh with me

and be with me,
but being without you

is good for me.
My mind isn't as

clouded as it was
when you were around.

I'm not happy that
you're gone, but

as much as I miss you,
I have to let you go.

I wonder if
you know that
I love you.

Do you notice
when I stare
at your face

when you speak?
there's no way
you don"t. Do

you notice the
way I smile
when you're near

me? Do you
notice the way
my eyes light

up when I
see you? Or
do I hide

it well? Can
you tell that
I love you

more than I
have ever loved
anything? I try

to find any
hint that tells
me that you

know just how
much you effect
me. I wonder

if you know
how I feel
about the fact

that you're not
mine. I wonder
if you know

just how much
it ******* kills
me.

Why do I always
Write in this state
of mind? All I
can think about is
your breathing and the
way you smell. I'm
in this **** attic
alone, my eyes are
wet and my hands
are shaking. I want
nothing more than for
you to be here
holding me. I want
to be in your
arms so ******* badly
but you're at home
sound asleep and I'm
here with a bottle
of liquor and a
sour taste on my
tongue that I can't
place. I know this is
your fault.Your eyes,
your lips, your fingers,
brushing, whispering.
Why are you not
here with me? Why
are you not touching
my skin, or kissing
the tips of my
fingers? Why am I
alone in this *******
attic with this unrecognizable
sour taste in my
mouth?

so much time has passed but somehow

I still feel like the immature, ignorant

girl that I was three years ago.

I love you just as much, maybe more

than I did all those years ago. Your

voice still makes my skin tingle,

though now it is something

completely different. Time and

intimacy have changed me for the

worse. Your hands danced across my

skin before, we were children then.

I never knew the full effect of it all,

never quite knew the terrible depth

of the consequences that followed

when you press skin against skin.

Body against body. I thought I knew

the extent of it all, but we were just

children then. How could I have

known that things can change so

intensely? It hurts, oh God it hurts.


Do you feel the same?