I kept drinking because it was the only time I felt alive.
I kept drinking because I needed to stop thinking of jumping off the edge.
I wanted to drown myself in something other than the melancholy feeling that surrounded me.
I kept drinking to forget about the scars that covered my body, sometimes I think there’s more scar than skin.
I kept drinking to forget all the places his hands had been even though I said no.
I kept drinking because sometimes I didn’t want to feel alive, I wanted numbness. I wanted to feel numb and blurry all over.
I know shits different now but I hope you’re well and you’ll always have a special place in my heart and I know that doesn’t mean much to you because your heart is sitting in the corner of my room where you left it.
I know it’s different between us now and you don’t understand why I walked away but you deserve someone who can love you as much as you love me.
When shit hits the fan I know you expect me to stay and work through it with you, but darling I’m a runner and I’ll always be looking for a way out.
I’m sorry I couldn’t be what you needed but thank you for loving me.
People are people and things change yeah I’ve read that a million times but I never thought you would be one of them. I didn’t dream up a scenario where I lose you. I wasn’t holding my breath waiting for you to walk away but you did anyway and it hurts like hell. Losing you hurts like hell.
I can see it now us running from our demons my God how they have grown into the people we love, into the things we know.
We’re at the back door of your house and you pull me close.
We are not in love
this is not a love poem
This is about you trying to find something in me worth living for.
This is a poem about us trying to cling to the earth even though it seems bound on exiling us.
This is about that time someone touched me and took a little piece of me. This is about how I’m still trying to fill that part of me.
This one is about how he’s been living in the bottom of a bottle since he was sixteen and he only comes up for air once a year, my birthday. This one’s for him wherever he is so he knows i’m still dying but I am surviving and I guess we all have to start from somewhere.
This ones for the boy whose heart I broke last year because I was bored. I’m still sorry and I hope you found
This is for the nights where I trace my scars and imagine what I would look like with more, if my body could handle anymore. This one is in hope that I go many more years without adding another scar and maybe one day I can learn how to stop missing the feel of that blade.
This ones for you and my hope that you find a guy worth your time. I hope you learn to love yourself inside and out. I hope every photo you take of yourself makes you smile and that one day you won’t need to fill yourself with drugs and alcohol to feel alright.
This one’s for my little sister who I swear is perfect and I hope she never feels like the poems I write.
This one’s for Sarah Bleasdale for being my lighthouse without even knowing it.
This one’s a thank you for anyone whose ever loved me.
She sounded agitated at this point in the conversation she continued to say, “I just don’t understand why you keep waiting for someone to love you. You need to learn to love yourself first, fill yourself with self-love.”
She was right and I hated when she was as right. I hung up the phone and took another swig, the tequila burned as it went down. I pretended this was self-love that this was all I needed.
It was such a weird time in my life because the things that were supposed to make me happy made me depressed and the things that were supposed to be bad for me seemed to be the only things I would partake in, which included loving you.