If you were a book,
I'd read you again.

If you were a ride,
I'd wait in line.

If you were my dream,
I'd never awaken.

If you were a star,
I'd never look down.

If you were a flower,
I'd never look up.

If you were mine,
I don't know what I'd do;
But I'd do it.

i’d rather write about the freckles on your back than think about all of the ways in which you quite possibly don’t love me.

i feel sick at the very thought of you picking me apart the way you did; fingers grabbing and stroking in a catastrophic symphony of skin and vulnerability.

let’s read between each other’s lines; share my sentences and punctuate my paragraphs with your mouth; because i can breathe easier on the mornings where i wake up wrapped around you.

because my moods change like the ******* seasons and the spinning in my head doesn’t want to stop.
                                         you tell me that i should probably get a therapist because no one that thinks about all the ways in which they could **** themselves has an ounce of mental stability.
                                          i tell you that i have been to four.
                                          names faded into a blur with hazy snippets of conversation remaining.
20mg.
                    30mg.
you tell me that trust issues and scars aren’t endearing and i tell you that neither is counting up the potential number of pills needed to dissolve your body into the living room carpet.

let me sink inside your skin and make a home in your flesh;
i tell you about the nights where i lay awake in the bath turning the water red.
                       tragic, isn’t it.

you tell me that this isn’t how my head should work and i tell you that i already know. everything you could possibly tell me i already know.
i know that 400 calories a day isn’t normal, and my hands shouldn’t shake all the time.
                                             i know.
please let me stitch myself into you, even just for a while; until i no longer feel dizzy and my world stops spinning.
i don’t need you to tell me that it will be okay, because honestly i don’t think it will be and, that in itself, is okay.
                                                                ­                 let me stitch myself into you, because my own skin can’t take it anymore.

let me call you back when my voice stops wobbling and my vision straightens out, but honestly, i’m terrified that it never will. what if this is it. headaches and tears and shaking and blood.
                                             and the debilitating, gut-wrenching feeling of pure and euphoric emptiness.

                                              tragic, isn’t it.

In the end,
It turns out we were addicting.
Like a good dream,
That you never want to wake from.
Sweet words said between us,
Sung like a lullaby
To keep us asleep.

In the end,
It became a nightmare,
Of stories untold
And burning disagreements.  
The star that shone bright between us,
Turned to ash.
And we woke up,
Afraid of the dark.

In the end,
We weren't what the other needed.
And I suppose that's ok,
Because for a time
We were perfect for each other.

Let’s start with how beautiful you are
You’re a firecracker strapped to a bottle rocket,
Tied to a battle axe, wrapped in lace *******
I want you. I wanted you last year.
When I see you, my tongue gets lost in my throat
My hands forget which one’s left,
My body goes limp, and whatever I’m doing
Becomes a mistake
You’re a margarita on a beautiful beach mid morning
With three days off, and the smell of barbecue in the air
You’re a chocolate covered strawberry served with cold egg nog
Next to a warm fire at Christmas
And I am a wreck
I’m a car wreck, baby
You should just drive around,
and let the paramedics sort my insides out
when my heart broke, it shattered like a car window
into a thousand pieces in every direction
and there I let the pieces stay
and we’ve only begun to see the damage
if there’s anything left, I’d give it to you
but I can’t promise there’s anything worth saving
this all started before you
I don’t even know if it can be fixed
I don’t even know if I can salvage
You need something more intact
My last driver was a little reckless
Drove it like she stole it
Drove it like she planned to crash it
Like she planned to die along with it
And between her and some others,
I’m afraid I’m a little spent
And may need some time to mend
You’ve got promise, you’ve got plans
There’s nothing but carnage down my road
I’d only end up damaging you too
Like most of the people who’ve tried before you
This isn’t easy to say, it’s not smart or manly
I want you more than you want me
I’ll regret this for a long time
Hate myself for even longer
But I’d rather run and wonder
Than hurt you. And hate myself even more
The fact that I’m writing this at all is all the proof you need
To know I don’t deserve you, and you’re better off without me
I just really need some time alone.