eighty-four

I’ll see your douchebagery, and raise you one heartbreak.

eighty-three

Let’s walk on the edge of danger. Let’s flirt with the idea of destruction. Let’s play in the ring of bad ideas. We’ll never be safe; but honey, we’ll be bored. 

eighty-two

Take me there, I beg you. I’ll deal with the bruises later. Guide me to the very brink we both wanna see me jump from. I’ll be too infatuated to blame you when I’m falling. 

eighty-one

The labored breaths between us were enough to make my questions, your promises.

eighty

My heart’s relentless though. It refuses to be caged. That kind of strength is really just weakness. 

seventy-nine

You’re a book I annotated too carefully. I highlighted the adventures and sweet words, and wrote notes in the margins of what I thought it could all mean. I was diligent, in search of grand meaning or profound conclusion. But page after page, the novel of you turned to nothing more than shallow fiction. When I reached the back cover I found quotes from girls past, ones I couldn’t imagine existed, and before I knew it the story had ended and it was my turn to evaluate. 

seventy-eight

We all just want plans to cancel, people to ignore, and messages to delete. The human condition is a strange thing: wanting what we can’t have, only to reject it if it comes our way. 

seventy-seven

Unbelievable. You’re absolutely unbelievable. Give me a moment to define that, though, adjectives can go multiple ways. 

seventy-six

Apathy was a mindset I never once could conquer. Something in the back of my heart tugged at the notion that maybe there was still time. I look so far into the future that I miss what’s right in front of me. 

seventy-five

I'm waiting to ignore a conversation we will never have. How can I be over you when you don't give me a chance to practice my cold-shoulder. 

seventy-four

Let’s get drunk and order copious amounts of takeout. Let’s laugh until we cry and cry until we laugh. I wanna delve so deep into your soul, you have no choice but to stay in my arms forever. Baby, the world is filled with a thousand unpleasantries. Love shouldn’t be one; don’t let this moment turn to ruin.

seventy-three

Someday forehead kisses are going to express humble adoration. Someday handholding is going to express quiet possession. Someday twinkling eyes are going to express genuine intrigue. Someday everything you did impassively by practice is going to be done intentionally by admiration. 

seventy-two

I am disgusted that we both probably fall asleep to the same images of you kissing her in the kitchen and holding her on the couch. 

seventy-one

I want to make forts adorned in string lights. I want to read poetry quietly by candlelight. I want to drink cool wine by fireplaces. I want to watch old movies in fleece blankets. I want to take midnight planes to faraway places. I want to eat ice-cream and watch the sun come up. I want to live and explore and laugh. And I want to do it all with you. 

seventy

Escaping is tricky. Are the memories you’ve made where you are right now enough to be left as the past? If you leave now, if you ever come back, everything will be different. The daily bond you make with your environment will suffer and nothing will be the same. So, if you’re escaping, do so cautiously. Do so quietly. Do so wholeheartedly. 

sixty-nine

There’s no one in my room. There’s no one in the apartment. I crawl under my blanket, curl into a ball, and close my eyes so tightly that I too may be someplace else. 

sixty-eight

As I lay under a cable knit blanket and string lights adorn my bed, I think of how miserable it is that 3AM texts make this room come so alive and when I finally fall asleep the silence is deafening. 

sixty-seven

The lump in my throat, the shiver in my chest, and the shaking in my fingers remind me that sweet, drunken sleep is my best shot at ignorance. 

sixty-six

There’s something deep in my gut, clenching and twisting. I can almost hear it saying ‘stupid girl, I told you nothing good happens after 2AM’

sixty-five

Always good. Never good enough. Adequate for a 3AM Snapchat, but insufficient for a 3PM text message. All I ever wanted to do was love you; all you ever wanted to do was let me; all we ever got was heartbreak.

sixty-four

The contractor’s hitting on me, I’ve broken all the tools, the blueprint is just a mess of pretty symbols, and still people yell at me to build my walls up higher.

sixty-three

Your apologies offend the heavy beating of my weakened heart. 

sixty-two

So yes, I do care. I care deeply. I have the kind of fragile heart that simply will not give up. No matter how battered or how wrenched, it’ll give and beat. Even for you, even though this is no longer your problem. It’s becoming offensive that you think yours can possibly care as much as mine.

sixty-one

You stood outside and lit cigarette haphazardly hanging in between lips that should've been on mine. I stared. I couldn't do much else. You were so approachable. And so unapproachable. A walking contradiction of everything I wanted so desperately to figure out. All I wanted to do was walk up to you, place myself under your arm, and have you look at me like I was something to be admired. I thought about this as she found herself wrapped around you.