i'm so ******* scared of what you think about me now.
i spent so much time fine-tuning all these broken pieces
to meld into something you might approve of.
i was so scared to do it for myself.

i don't think i could even hold a conversation with you now.
i'm so different from the girl you said you fell in love with,
and even more different than the one i
became when i was with you.

and i know i never should have conformed.
i know i never should have bent over backwards
for someone that would eventually break me down.
but i did, anyways.

and it leaves me questioning my moves six months later.
it still nags at the back of my mind like a reaper ready to strike.
and i know i should be living for myself,
but you still haunt my thoughts with that ghost you left behind.

i love how it feels to be underneath you.

i send you messages like these because i
know you're at dinner with your friends,
know you're out in public.

we're miles away, but i wanted to
make my presence known.
i wanted to make an impression on you
and make you want me there
when i wasn't invited.

i want to leave you hanging by the end of the night.
i want to start to make it hurt for you.
i want you to realize what is happening and reach
out for more, realize i'm not just smoke.
i am real and i can be lost.

and even if it didn't make you want me
like i intended for it to do,
at the very least you thought of me
for a moment like a front-page headline.

May be I love you.

Or maybe I just love the idea,
Of pressing hard into you,
On cold nights,
When the room’s dark,
and all you can see,
is our panting and labored breathe.
The stink of sweat and clenched fists.

Or maybe I just love the idea,
of drunken mistakes,
on unmade beds,
when whole worlds on fire,
and all you can smell,
is the sweet pitch and sap of smoldering clothes .
The stink of sweat and clenched fists above it all.

Or maybe I just love the idea,
of old age spent alone,
on creaky porches,
when all my senses have faded,
and I can’t love anymore of this world.
Is the end always found alone, in places like this?
The stink of sweat and clenched fists above it all, fighting to the end.

Or maybe all of these things,
but then again,
maybe I love you.

but all i ever wanted was a boy to secretly sniff my ******* and like it
and an over-sized shirt that doesn't smell like me to wear to bed
and a feeling much like what i'm feeling right now