I imagine getting high with you tastes like kerosene down my throat
like numb lips curled back in a halfway kind of smile
like trying to figure out which of these corroded veins will bleed best

I imagine getting high with you like 19 hours of switching between who's on top
like teeth on any flesh you leave exposed
like how many shots does it take for you to tell me you want me

I imagine getting high with you everytime I close my eyes or I see blue webs played out in the back of my hands
I need it like something terrible

I imagine getting high with you in snapshot moments and **** they taste so sweet but not nearly as much as
kissing you sober

the sun is hazy, dripping in behind the curtains
I am scratching wooden table tops, sorting bits of us into piles of each other
you'll take my lazy smile, I'll have your small hands curled into anatomically incorrect hearts
you are lying in waves against my mattress on the floor, one leg is wrapped around and around and around my waist as I work huddled over my wooden table top
the brown or beige fingerprints that determine who we will become when they set into the pores of our skin, marking the traits that belong to us alone, are unevenly built into sand castles
I speak as quickly as the sound of razors against the divets in my wooden table top, "a one night affair with her won't change how I love you, and I am desperate to know what she feels like under my skin"
you do not whisper but nearly scream the distaste in the idea of another woman in my veins, where you have been memorizing the paths to my fingertips
the plastic straw that brushes the edge of my nostril is striped, looks just like my left arm, instead of spotted like your upper thigh
I laugh too harshly and agree to stay to the quieter things
you convince yourself to believe me

the first time I cheat on you with a mistress sharper than the way you spit my name out of your teeth these days
I'm in the parking lot down the street from our house
the backseat of a blonde boy's blue SUV
I use an alcohol wipe, sterile needles and a cotton ball
I measure the water to poison ratio so that I know that it will not **** me
when I get home we lie in the grass in front of our apartment and watch the sun, it's hazy, or I'm just high
I hide the pin ***** under the ******* my watch and listen to the hands tick away the orange in the sky until it is dark

the last time
I am at a stop light on the way to your house, we're going to a meeting together
but I hurt so badly my teeth chatter as I pull with them the head band above my elbow
I pour a cap full of poison into my chemistry project and mix in enough water to watch it melt
I tear the filter out of my cigarette and count to three before pulling all of the dripping amber sunset into a needle that costs the rest of my sanity
I say your name in my head three times, can't find a vein, won't register, I never liked roses anyway
when she kisses me it is almost like saying goodnight
her voice sounds so much like yours and then I see you
piling into the backseat of my silver pick up truck
I whisper that I love you the most
you convince yourself to believe me

the first time you kissed me
I could've fallen out of the chair I sat in
begging to feel the weight of you against me

you kept your distance

the only things that touched
were our lips
and your hair curled over my cheek

the first time you asked me
"what are we? what is it we're doing? and what do you want?"
I swore that the idea of you falling asleep on someone else's chest didn't steal all of the sanity from my brain
that I could imagine the rest of my life only existing when you needed me

it's funny how much I didn't mean it, but that's exactly where we are now

the only things that touched
were my lips to the phone receiver
I can't remember exactly how many times you didn't answer

the first time you asked me to marry you
the first time I asked you to run away with me
the first time we fought with our fists and then

the only things that touched
were your lips together
when you packed up all of the things you could reach

and still keep your distance

you deleted every reminder of me off of your Instagram
the pictures of us on your graduation day
prom
our anniversary

I wrote you a love poem to commemorate three years
of falling head first into empty photo albums

I still have the picture of you the day we started dating
the day you drew me a tiny snail while you searched for the courage to ask me for my blood red heart

I remember when your hair was blonde
and brunette
when it matched your eyes
with small streaks of honey gold
like firefly trails in the dark

still have the pictures of your swallowed pride
my sweet girl
what weren't you willing to trade for the nights we fell asleep in each other's arms

you deleted every reminder of me from the poems you wrote
patted over our matching scars with foundation that didn't match your skin color
they are blotchy like the letters you wrote me
stained in tears and too many "almosts"

but I still catch you standing at the door of my gate
outside my castle made of tomorrows
not quites
but I know they are coming

just like you

And then I met you,
My ****** Queen

My too sick to sleep
Ode to bad dreams

I swear, ******* NEVER MEANT A THING TO ME
as long as you say you want me too..

and baby I know you  do
you kissed me so sweetly
never left a mark on me

made it easy to convince you weren't nearly as toxic
woke up after every death scene

you changed everything

"our song"

the fragile broken rhythm of an unsteady heart trying to float above 32 bpm
surrounded by all the tangled machines counting how close to death I have strayed
when I stayed on the living room couch for two days
after choking down 26 pills in the shape of my anger

the sound of barely 100 lbs hitting the floor after two too many shots of somehing stronger than your courage
unsuccessful cpr and the way my ribs snap under the weight of our guilt

the silence swimming in the background of your converations with police sirens

the comments on your instagram  of tiny pin ****** securing my hand to yours

have you ever heard it sober?
our song
the sound of razorblades clattering against ******* stained mirrors
shattered from the last time I got high alone
that's seven years of bad luck, you know

and perhaps that's why you had to watch me die four times
and perhaps that's why I had to learn to live alone

we always had fun
throwing darts at each other's backs

trying to make sure
something would stick

and I guess we got comfortable
sneaking out of windows
and
sharing each other's hearts with everyone except
each other?

and who knew that seeing you stripped bare
meant meeting all of your ghosts