Living Room designed by Frank Lloyd Wright
you know what’s fucked up?
that you can be without someone for six months, a year, five years and have mastered not thinking about them, but no matter how much time passes there will always be that moment where you see a photo of them or catch a little of their cologne on a crowed street and suddenly you’re plagued with a rapidly sinking stomach and the relentless question, “what did i do wrong?”
Don’t do that. Don’t skip stages in your life. You’re 19, kiss a few boys and wear your heart on your sleeve. There will come a time when you’re 39 and stuck in a suit, wondering why the hell you were so eager to grow up in the first place.
you left me so suddenly
that the insides of me felt scraped clean
and i was trying to stitch myself together with
shaky hands and bad dreams and
i was so
fucked up about it
one night even though i don’t ask for things
i texted you and begged you
to please come back because
everything reminds me of the way
that you feel and you told me
“go write some of that awful goddamn
poetry you never left me out of
why not write about this heartbreak
at least it’s something new”
no matter how hard i bite down
even these words
taste of you.