At night when I look up I still see the constellations I named after you, they’re still there, but you’re not; and it’s just another reminder that you’re gone.
You only called me when she wouldn’t pick up and you kept calling that love, you almost convinced me it was.
But i loved you anyways.
I loved you until I was empty and still, then I found other ways to love you like thinking of you at 4.am while you were too busy falling in love with her.
Sometimes I have to follow your ghost to the house that became abandoned the day you left so I can feel at home. I can’t tell the difference between that house and my heart anymore.

It’s 4.am and my whole world just came crashing around me as I realized, you’re forgetting about me, and there’s nothing i can do about it.
It’s times like these I wish you still loved me, or that we met sooner, I knew about you and how similar we are, how our minds work the exact same way.
Maybe then I wouldn’t have swallowed a bottle of pills when I felt like I had no one.
You never had to push me away like this you could have just let me go, but you didn’t.
Why didn’t you let me go?
And you still don’t get it,  i’ve lived a hundred lifetimes and still loved you a million ways in each. I wish you knew that I can’t look at anything beautiful anymore cause I can’t share it with you.
Today I screamed “I ******* MISS YOU” in the same forest I told you about and how every time i walked through it, I felt like you were there walking along with me.
I wish you could feel what I feel.
I wish you knew that I’m still in love with you.

I hope his love lives up to your standards, because my could not, and I wish you nothing but happiness

I remember being able to write poems about you, the words would come like ease, while I pained in writing the words, now I forget your eyes and the way you use to look at me, I forget your scent, I forget how our hands used to fit together, I remember thinking I could never forget you, I remember nothing

I'm fascinated by language. Words that can be used simply, without thought and an exchange is happening. Or it can be a recitation, a spiel, an epilogue of soliloquies passed from language to mind in a scientific magic. It can be raptured words of ecstatic bliss! Or hateful slurs of ******-off ****. It's a rhythm, a movement, a still pond of thought. Language happens whether you want it or not. A simple silence will pray, "Do not approach, please!!" or roar from the depths a loud "I'll kick you in your knees." It's a statement, a charge. A description, a related recital of rundown redundancy, reiterating what we already know. I am FASCINATED with language. And so you should be, too. Cuz it's all in our heads... and it's varied in hue.

I feel like everything that has happened has led up to this.
The loving, the leaving, and the not-really living
Then loving, and living, and just living again.
You hurt me, I hurt you
Then we dance in vicious circles,
We, loveless, hopeless lovers..
You love me but you hate me.
I hate you but I love you
I s there no stopping
To the madness we've become?
Do we know the answer?
Do we want to know?