your glorious indifference

to all the loves i've never managed to pull out from my bones

(1) i am always so quiet and shy when you're around. you're always high and you've always liked wild girls with eyes that remind you of fern trees; girls that are 2/3 of the person i never will be. i'm sorry that i never really learned how to reorganize my bones into something that could be enough for you.

(3) you were always so gentle, intriguing and beautiful and i have always been more or less terrified of pretty things that i had no business touching. you were the sin i tasted in secret and everything i wanted to do was get to know the universe behind the veins in your eyelids. i think that at the time your favorite diversion was cornering me, pushing me against the wall because you knew that i was able of getting rid of everything there was in between my bones for you.

(2) my brain was never really attached to my skull when it came to you and my old infatuation for boys who walked with their heads higher than a skyscraper and that only cared about the size of your hips, of your chest. i tried to pretend that we had been born with the same kind of compassion, but all you ever wanted from me was my skin in your mouth, in your hands. you can blame the years i spent licking crumbs from the table, but i built an entire world based on scraps of affection when the only thing you did was hold onto anything that showed you the slightest goodwill.

i feel sick and disgusted when i remember how fast i became soft for you.

(1) i always watch the cigarette you hold between your fingers. the way you inhale the smoke deep into your lungs, even when they are screaming for help. i always watch the way you're addicted to self-destruction.

i want you to know that your tears tear me apart. i would do anything to pull the sadness right out of your bones. i know the way you carry things with you that no one else sees. i know the way you lie and say you're alright when people ask you.

i would do anything to see you happy.

i would hold up the sky in my shoulders like Atlas if i had to.

i would swallow the sun if i had to.

(4) i am a thunderstorm of low serotonin and you have always been unusual, fearless and so existentially honest. the words were never really where i needed them to be, but that was okay because we drank cold coffee at 3:37 in the morning while you sang to me the song you had written when you were drunk. i could swear to god that i felt like my existence could be summed up into something more than some surviving organs and a pile of useless cells. you told me that my eyes reminded you of supernovas and city lights and i could swear that even though we could be barely considered underdeveloped adults, you had spent the last fifty years setting me aflame.

(2) i don't want to be your friend. you were never healthy for me. you never deserved all the words i have written about you.

(1) i'll always find funny the way you were constantly breaking my heart and the way i was constantly letting you. if you so much as stared at me, i'd bruise. i always have been frightened of the things i was capable of doing, of the storms i was willing to start just so i could trace my fingertips through the soft spaces between your ribs. i embodied you in every poem that i have ever dared to write and my god, my god, i hope that one day i am able of expelling you from between my teeth, ribs, and vertebrae.

(3) i always called you when i was drunk and you were always there on the nights in where my hands were shaking more than tree branches in autumn and i was stripped to nothing but vulnerability. the butterflies in my stomach were never delicate with my insides when you were around. you were always so predictable, i always knew you wouldn't stick around for too long.

it's okay, it's okay. i will always think of you softly and wish you nothing but the best, but i will plan funerals for all the memories that include you.

(1) when i was with you, i never felt like dying.

(4) you were so translucent and intense when you told me that i was expected to survive for 27,375 days and that there was still time for me to become what i needed to be. you had lava rather than blood running through your veins and dandelions that sprouted between the cracks of your teeth when you parted your lips to speak.

i always felt like screaming to your face, did you know that you're on fire? did you know that you're fucking brilliant?

you told me to think less and feel more and my god, my god, how did you expect me not to fall for you when you traced my scars with soft fingertips and drew constellations in my freckles?

(3) please, don't keep resurfacing into my life like summer rain.

(5) i was so desperate for a taste of love that i ended up getting drunk on the idea that you could save me. the world had a strange way of giving you light and then taking it from you and in a way, you were just as fucked up as i was. none of us knew how to handle the war zone in our minds. it's okay, it's okay. you couldn't stay and now i understand that you reached a point in your life where you couldn't love anyone but yourself. please, don't blame yourself. just remember that the battles in your head do not define you.

(5) thank you for the moments.

(1) i'm sorry for lying that other day and saying i cared about you when i was already sure i fucking loved you.