i started popping pills when i was twelve and
pretended they would save me until i couldn't
feel them anymore, and i'm scared that i'll only ever
love you like that, because i'm beginning to feel
numb when you're around, but i get headaches
when you're gone. &when; the time comes that you
have to leave, i want to be able to let you go gracefully

(i'll spend the next three months whispering your name,
trying to remember what it felt like to want to say it instead of
to need to)

the other day a well respected friend of mine
asked me why i smoked cigarettes
as i was sparking up to light one

i was slightly taken aback by this question
and i never really thought about why
so my immediate response was,
"it’s just something to fill my time with",

but upon further introspection
i realized i smoked because
it was a slow suicide
not abrupt,
but long and drawn out

and i am too afraid to **** myself
quickly

Our lips are silver linings and the fingers we bounded
to one another are no longer infatuated with friction.

We have rubbed the wrong ways, walked towards roads we
have stopped at  more than once.

Our tongues have tasted skins and open wounds;;
but never did we tell the story of a healing scar.