I think I'll let the sea cradle me to sleep.

i've been in my bed, which will always be the bed,
                     as in, the bed,
      where we spent the last of our virginities
in the push of hips and hands and two-note gasps,
and i've been thinking.

i've been thinking of
     all the firsts i gave you and
         all the things you meant to me
and how
  you will always be the boy who
     sat on a table and sang me my favorite song in front of everyone and
          didn't give a **** that his guitar was out of tune.
now that
is a ******* gesture.

i've been thinking that i need to learn to look you in the eye again.

i've been thinking of how
   all i've done for the past three weeks is walk away from you.
       and how just because you walked away from me first
                                        in the biggest way possible,
                                                     that isn't fair.
you deserve more than that
    for how hard you've tried.
i've been thinking that i haven't let myself see that very well.

i've been thinking of how
  right now
    i'm beginning to feel like i could talk to you, and make myself stay,
          and look you in the eye, and not hurt,
or like i could never talk to you again, and still be okay.
i've been thinking that that's a start
                 to something friendship-shaped and okay.

i've been thinking that maybe i'll take a break from you for awhile,
      maybe patch up the sore places in my heart, talk to some new people.
   learn some things, you know?

i've been thinking that maybe i'll talk to you tonight,
      and for the first time i won't be bitter. there will not be underlying pain in my words.
there will be no accusations. no corners to back you into. no hidden hatred. no left-over love.
     there will be just you. and just me. and we'll be fine, one of these days. i'll be fine.

i've been thinking that that can start
    as soon as i let it.

In fact they will stop on rainy street corners
To read us behind glass black and white
Televisions flickering
They laugh at us and toss cigarette butts
Getting into taxis
Off to some important date
In old gilded hotel lobbies
But on the rainy street
Our poetry is lost
'Neath the hustle and buss
Of their everyday feet

[voicemail]

hello, father
It's your daughter.

This is the last voicemail
I've decided to ever leave.
I'm been having some difficulty
in thinking that I'll succeed.

It's been a while but I'm not
here to catch up and reminisce.
I simply have a story to tell and basically it's this.

I started when I was fifteen.
Single edge blades for shaving.
I had found its other use
and the feeling was amazing.

Father where've you been?
The answer doesn't matter to me.
I've grown up and all the cuts have
lead me to bleed out my empathy
and letting scars heal with a special
layer of apathy.

You want to know what it feels like?
I stay up way past my bed time.
One mark before I start the climb.
Dark thick liquid that feels like slime.
Slow. Steady. Make the
motion last a lifetime.

I wonder what life
would be like without me
and honestly my disappearance
is what really makes me happy.

I've always really want to tell you
that even though you haven't been
here I think it's still okay to say
I love-

[beep]