For you.

I hate that I was never as much of a part of your life as you are of mine. I hate that I gave so much of myself to you, and all of you did was say goodbye. I hate that when you try to hug me I can't even look at you in the eye. I hate when I'm about to let you go, you act like everything we had was a lie. And I hate that you never wanted me, yet you still won't let me go. I hate that when I found you, I wanted everyone to know. I hate that you broke me down so much that I spent a whole night in tears. I hate that even though I say I hate you, a part of me still wants you here.

Your love isn't mine

I am a mess in your arms as I stare at your face. I try to memorize the way your bones cut into your cheek like they're trying to make a point and I wonder if that gap in your chest ever makes it hard to breathe. You are so pretty. You are pretty in the way that blood can sometimes be the perfect shade of red. You are beautiful in the same way that my bed feels perfect for my body when I am too sad to move four days straight, I try to count the colours in your eyes, all dark brown and gold and sun, fighting each other for first place next to your pupil, and I wonder if you ever think of me like I think of you, and before that thought even finishes, I know the answer is no. But I smile at you anyway as you lean in to kiss me. Because I think your heart is very tender, even if it isn't mine.