I woke up today with the same emptiness I have woken up with
most mornings
for the past eight months.
Just like I went to bed last night,
wearing my loneliness over me like a blanket
like I do
almost every night,
since I said goodbye to you.
And I wonder why,
I can't forget about all the people
who have treated me so poorly.
Why small scratches at my visage
left massive scars
that bled for weeks.
And I wonder what I am doing wrong
to be someone
so undeserving of love,
when all I have been trying to do
is put broken people back together,
but maybe
that is my first mistake.

never fall in love with the girl who writes poems about you
she’ll end up caring for you more than she cares about poetry
and that will mean destruction for both of you
she will compare you to the stars and the breath out of her own lungs
and she will count the minutes until she can be with you next
this is entirely troublesome, especially if you don’t feel the same way
although if you don’t, a heartache will be cause for more inspiration
I suppose love is a win win situation for writers-
fall in love, you have inspiration
fall out of it, you have inspiration

never fall in love with the girl who writes poems about you
she will get to attached
she will love you too much
she will fall in love with the curve of your spine
and the form of your smile
and the structure of your bones
and the placement of your words on her mouth
and the way your hair falls floppily out of place
and the way you don’t love her at all

never fall in love with a writer
never fall in love with the girl who writes poems about you
never fall in love with me

I write poems on my skin for you.
You say you love me and then leave
and I write you poems on my ******* skin.

The ink sinks through all the layers that cover my bones
and almost poisons me.
It worries me that I don't even care
and even more that you wouldn't either.

There were certain things in life in which I was absolutely certain;
you were one of them.
You were one of those things that I thought would never leave.
Constant, like the ocean.
But the tide came in and you got washed away.
And I was left with nothing but uncertainty.

And you left on purpose.

When I think of you two words come to mind; reckless abandonment.
Only I was the reckless thing and you were the abandoner.
And I feel completely foolish for missing you.

I wrote a haiku on my skin for you;

Those who I love leave
Recklessly and forever;
tide sweeps you away.