i never thought that the
big apple could feel so small
and i swear that sometimes
it feels like you never left at all

because, claire, even as you stand
3000 miles across this country
flipping your mic next to the big stars
partying in mansions with big money

it's our love story from so long ago
that echoes down these midnight streets
and it's your voice in your songs—i admit
i listen to them and they still drive me crazy

it's how your voice haunts me
at every single stupid house party
and how your words still remind me
during my every attempt at peace

i begged you to stay even when
you were already walking away
and when i whispered those words
you didn't even know what to say

i'm not the only one who knows that
that one song is about me
and at this point, i'm sure
even my best friends pity me

everyone knows, in fact
you probably even know
since you've moved on now, the real question is:
how the hell do you expect me to ever let you go?

when i asked
if this was the end
you said
"i don't know"
and i heard "yes"

if you
had stopped talking
for long enough
i think you would have
heard me breaking
but instead
you went on
with your conversation
as if i wasn't crumbling
to pieces in front of you
my nectarine soft heart spoiled,
the juices running
onto the floor,
hands messy
from trying
to hold us together.

before i bought these airpods
we used to share earbuds
and sit on the swings—

there was a nice and calm
between us every time we laughed
even as my phone fell and its screen cracked

you know, i hated beautiful clichés
(and i loved romanticized tragedies)
until we became one

My heart started shrieking when she said love could not save us. “How else can you explain this?” I protested as I pulled my bleeding heart out of my hollow chest. “This old thing swears to be yours, and yours only” I said with a lump in my throat. “Here is my heart, it is fragile. Break it anyway, if you must.” I cried.

The flowers she picked for me still haunt me. “How cruel of her. To **** a blooming flower for a lover she soon will ****, softly” I thought, but my dancing heart did not agree with me. “Yield” Pleaded my heart. “Yield! Surender yourself to her”. And so I did.

you shot across my sky
like a rare constellation
now yours
is the only touch i'm craving

our eyes meet
and i drown completely
each moment with you
leaves me aching so sweetly

feeling drunk off every kiss
i wonder if you know
that yours
is the only face i miss

so little time
with so much i long to do
i'd run straight into trouble
if it led me to you.

I will break all my limbs
to have her mold me
as a clay sculpture

To carve her knife
into my skin because
this is how art is made

To have her look at me,
study me, conceal my flaws,
till I am finally perfect

To be owned by her,
her creation to
admire and love

In magic folklore, as tangible, as real,
in the world I see now,
I heard no more of the everyday person, but
a shocking scream I’d never
forget, what a weeping beauty that
in a instant, of golden glow,
has highlighted everything of ugly
& saw everything for as it is, it was never Holy.

having your lover
trace your earloves with their
fingernib is as intimate as
reading.