*You’re

I almost wish we’d never met. You stole six months from me, only half of which filled with naive apprehension and adoration. Even then, can the feeling of unknowingness ever truly be happy? Safe? Okay? I found myself drowning in the anxiety of question marks coating my skin, even then. The remaining three months were…

The Way They Leave Tells You Everything.

I shouldn’t be laying on my bedroom floor in my now dried towel at 3 A.M. after my 4th shower of trying to wash you off of me. I shouldn’t be driving myself insane over the questions of who she was, of who she is, of what she is that I’m not, of why I…

I Wrote This For You

I am writing this for you. The you who knows me through and through, despite what you may believe, anymore. The you who knows my speech patterns like the chorus to your favorite song and the inside of my hands like your own personal roadmap to our made up constellations. I am writing this in…

188 Memories And Photographs

I deleted all of our pictures yesterday.  It was like deleting memories Smiles Laughter The times you still loved me. I went through my phone and one by one deleted each of the 188 photographs of you, Of us. 188 memories. I knew I had to do it I couldn’t avoid it forever. Those photos…

The Difference Between The Way You Loved Me And The Way I Loved You

I think I figured it out.  From the very beginning, you had this idea of me, this fictionalized version of who you thought I was. To you, I was beautiful. I was beautifully broken and brilliantly bright. I was this extraordinary mystery you wanted to solve, to cure. I was an adventure that you so…

The Afterthought

It’s really interesting rather funny, actually how we found ourselves in the opposite position we imagined. In the beginning, you were the one chasing after me with your alternative songs and sincere words I was the one giving you, giving us another chance. We both knew I had been the one who had lost feelings in…

Stained

You always told me you were poisonous that in the end, you would end up with inky blood on your hands and dripping from your name. I never believed you. Not for a moment. You were mortified by the thought of your ink staining my delicate skin, my pages. You wanted anything but to hurt me. I…