Fleeting Memoirs

To the Boys who Have Mastered the Art of Running

TO THE BOYS WHO HAVE MASTERED THE ART OF RUNNING

To the boys who have mastered the art of masking open wounds and third-degree burns with dirty jokes, bandages made out of excuses,
Boys who have lived their whole life plotting escape routes,
Pulling too many false alarms,
And running after girls who have already forgotten the sound of sirens and beats of a human heart,
To the boys who have mastered the art of pretending,
Dancing too well in a masquerade,
Watching their lovers kiss their lips on the dancefloor,
As she runs away with another man,
These boys have mastered the art of slipping away by shredding themselves to pieces.

Your hearts are not wine bottles you can just place in the palms of a girl who will not for a second even bother to know your worth.
The day you will have made the wrong move will be the same day you will learn how to swallow every plea that threatens to climb up your throat
And into the attic of your mouth,
You will learn in that very second that you must run away,
Before she can play manic Harley Quinn,
Reach inside your ribcage; snatch your beating heart,
Make you believe that gaping hole of where it used to be is "love",

One day she will take you to the depths of the oceans,
She will learn how to hold her breath underwater long enough to make you believe this is beautiful,
And when she asks you to close your eyes,
Believe me when I say she will leave you there, grasping for air.
This day shall be the day you must refuse to slip into her padlock hands,
Before she can even have the chance to lock you up and throw away the key,
Feed your heart with regrets until it consumes you.
You must run away.

God did not bend stars and galaxies at your feet to mold your heart for one troubled girl to break it in five seconds and six words, "I do not love you anymore."
Tell her she doesn't know what love is.
Tell her that if she knew what love is, none of this would be a mistake.
Tell her that if she ever really loved you, saying those six easy words would have felt like breathing in shards of glass.
But it didn't.
Remind yourself this, she didn't.
Remind yourself that when we love, sometimes it is never enough.
So tuck away your heart; fold it into the crevices of your bones,
When she tells you she loves you, do not fall into the cage of her mouth.
Just stop, stop plotting escape routes and pulling alarms for girls who will only leave you with gaping wounds.
Do not ever let any girl treat you like you are but a cigarette break, a smudge that she can erase anytime,
Because love is not a mistake.

So to the boys who have mastered the art of running,
Turn back around while you still can.