i slide the blade
s l o w l y
across my pale, soft skin.
it burns,
i don’t smile.
but it’s satisfying to watch
the blood pool in beads.
it hurts.
but it doesn’t hurt as much
as the pain i caused you today.
so i do it again.

i hurt people who love me,
i lie to stay afloat.
i say i’m fine
when i’m folding in on myself.
i miss him,
even when i shouldn’t.
i want too much.
i disappear.
i think i’m a bad person.
maybe i am.
maybe i’m not.
either way,
i can’t seem to stop.

your name is more than a name to me.
it’s a pulse,
a reflex,
a sound that lives in my chest
more than my mouth.
i hear it and feel,
not just you,
but everything we ever were:
the late night texts,
the saxophones,
the way you once said my name like it was music.
your name is the word i think of
when people ask what love feels like.
it’s the ache behind songs,
the catch in my breath
when someone else says sean.
sean.
s e a n.
they don’t know what it means to me.