she was listening to the songs he put on the playlist he made for her at 4:23am in an oversized *** pistols shirt, barefoot in the kitchen with tears streaming down her cheeks as her hips swayed, a white mug in between her palms as the dark black coffee fills the emptiness he left inside of her, and the clouds of light grey smoke fill the air and replaces the aching silence in her head.

cigarettes and black coffee as food for the ones hungry for love.

and i’m still waking every morning, but it’s not with you anymore.

i’m no longer waking up to smudged eyeliner and mascara, with an arm wrapped around my stomach, tugging my back closer to a chest as i hear steady breathing

it sounds calming when you say it like that
but if people only knew what happened an hour prior, they’d be calling it chaos and no longer ‘relationship goals’

relationship goals.
that’s what people called us.
but i don’t think endless fighting and make up *** could ever be relationship goals.

we showed everyone what we wanted them
to see, but behind closed doors
we were falling apart

i’m no longer going to sleep every night with ace bandages wrapped around my wrist and your warm breath going down my neck as you tell me it’s gonna be okay

i’m going to sleep with my cats and telling my nana that i’ll see her in the morning because i know for sure i will

i’m waking up with a smile on my face with my own embrace
i’m no longer waking up with heartbreak.

i always wake up and write at 4am, and how ironic that i started this at 4:44am.

you always told me that i needed to set a routine, and if i’m being honest with you, my routine had been demolished a long time ago when you decided to come in crashing.

the room is pitch black, but i can still see your face. i can see the galaxy in your eyes and the constellations running down your arms, chest and spine

did it hurt, my love? when the lord casted you out of heaven?

is this why you need to feel like a god? because he never let you be one?

you make my heart ache, and i feel your hands ****** and fussy in my guts that it makes me want to purge out acid. that’s all you’ve been making me want to do lately.

your name is shared with a gun
and i felt your bullet pierce my heart
the last time i said it.

he said her name as if it were a prayer but i don’t think he’s religious. if he believes in anything, he believes in himself. she found salvation in his eyes, and swore he was her savior.

she spoke in tongues when his hand was tucked between her thighs, she tried to not his verses out of context. but ****, it was weighing on her conscience.

there was a warrant for my arrest not too long ago

it was all over the news, and i couldn't help but laugh. why would they put that out? my body standing amongst the blood-stained carpet. they say i'm a murderer.

body found, they found it still in it's clothes in the bathtub but they could still see the mutilation. the place looked horrendous. i knew there was only just a matter of time.

it seemed like those crime series where each episode gets them closer to the killer, but with the way these scenes are being handled, they can't find dna on the body.

they can't find the ****** weapon. all that's there is the trail of blood from the carpet to the bathtub from the victim. out of all places, why did they choose the bathtub? they could've gotten help.

you see, you ask yourself these things because it's ******* logic. i asked myself these things too before my head went under the water.

i don’t know much about love and heartbreak but—

i. i’m in this god forsaken awful party filled with people i’ve never seen before, and i’m trying to find you in the crowd because our hands are no longer clasped tight. my heart is hitting my ribcage harshly over and over again and my chest is locking up. i find you with your arm around her.

ii. i scrub and scrub until my skin is red and stripped of all your bitter truths and acid kisses. citrus and peach are the only things that don’t remind me of you, but now that i’m writing this, i think they do.

iii. i’m sitting on your bed in your *** pistols shirt and you’re playing with my hands. you tell me you love me and that you see a future with me. my eyes light up and i’m daydreaming of a life with you. but then i remembered, it’s 4am and your lips like to lie.

iv. your mama kisses me on the forehead and tells me i’m the daughter she’s always wanted. she also told me that if we don’t get married, she’s gonna have a stern talk with you. did she ever do that?

v.  my hades, i don’t know much about love and heartbreak— but you are always the first thing that comes to my mind when they ask me how i’m doing.