Red wine and a worn leather notebook, it’s all I have when I sit here, without you.


You think I’m fine but I’m not. I’m not fine and I was going to tell you, but that wall, that damned wall between us came up again.

I want to tell you how I love you. How I don’t really know how I’m supposed to live without you if that time comes.

I want to tell you how it hurts me, hurts me to know I’m not the only one. I can tell in the way you touch me, it’s different, it’s

colder. I miss your warm touch and the way our eyes used to meet. They don’t meet anymore, did you know that?

Our hands touch but our mouths stay shut until something meaningless and stupid pops up. I need more than meaning less, cold words from you.

I’m so cold, I wish I could be cold on the outside, too. Gone, maybe. I wish you’d pull me out from inside this grave I’ve built for myself but I think

I might be trapped in this abyss forever.


Between the sheets

I can’t fill up the empty spaces inside of you, but I can fill the empty space between the sheets.

I do every time, knowing the second you leave, I’ll be left with tears and a body that just won’t seem to clean.

The love won’t come off, my skin bleeding you through my pores, open wounds I don’t even think I want to close.

I think another, prettier version of me may be filling those spaces just like me, but

I’ve fallen in love with a man who has never understood the meaning of love.That is something I have to take responsibility for.

My love for you may never be returned, but here I am, in between the sheets like you know I’ll always be.

It’s worth it for the love you’re able to give in those moments. Small moments, but I’ll take any love I can get.

Because that’s all I’ve lived for. Love. Even if I’m the only one giving it.


Not realizing the memories I have could be skewed until they’re pointed out to me.

That first kiss, your soft touch. I didn’t say no but I didn’t say yes either. The blurred lines between what’s right and wrong, I’ve never been good at distinguishing the two.

In my memory it was a moment of closeness and love, we were one and I wanted it, I told myself, that’s what I wanted. My first kiss and first everything all at once, magical.

Reliving it in a therapists office, things look a little different. I was scared. I was scared when your hands started moving from writing love letters on my hips to circling lower, higher.My hands pathetically pulling at yours when they got a little too close to where they shouldn’t be. The darkness. The selfishness. It wasn’t for me. It wasn’t for us.

But I didn’t say no, did I? I didn’t say yes, but this one is on me because I never said the word “no.” I don’t think I wanted to, but I didn’t know anything about the ways men can use you and hurt you, the way they could love you and cherish you.

It shaped me in ways I wasn’t aware of. Basing my value on my body alone. That’s all I am, after all. A body to be used.

The cycle continues, because of you.


Have you noticed the way we never have anything to talk about? How the words we use to fill the empty space are just as empty,

a void filling a void, useless words. Why do we use them when they get us nowhere? Trying to force something to work when it’s clearly

already over. I wasn’t the one you were meant to find, and you weren’t the one I was meant to love. I can’t make you love me and that is something so difficult to learn.

Difficult to accept that maybe you’re with me just to fill that empty space, just for a little while.

When remembering hurts

I think I’ve mastered the art of missing you, somewhere in between

the 3am reruns of what I like to think we we were and

the countless mornings and afternoons recalling every line on your face,

the way your lips felt against mine that very first time,

the way your arms felt wrapped around me,

the way your eyes lit up when you smiled at me,

the way your hand felt against mine in your car as we drove to unknown destinations.

I like to think I know how to miss you right, but

it still shatters me to think of you, still hurts when I see her with you,

you look happier and in the times when I’m missing you, I find myself wondering why it couldn’t be me.

It’s not me you’re saying I love you to, it’s not me you’re falling asleep next to, waking up next to, living next to.

It’s not me you’re loving and I can’t help but wonder why I couldn’t be enough.

I don’t think I’m good at missing you at all.

Mine, for you

There are things I no longer wish to understand. They break me, they taunt me and hold me tight in their grasp, no, you cannot forget.

I no longer wish to understand the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the sound of his laugh and the soft nudge he gave me when I said something silly. How easy it is to fall in love in a moment, one short, tiny moment in time.

I no longer wish to understand how easily my heart can be torn, shattered. It’s in pieces and no matter how hard anyone tries, they can’t be put back together. There will always be a large piece missing, the part of my heart he stole.

I no longer wish to understand that no, you can’t get over a love lost. They’ll always be somewhere inside, a voice whispering to you at a random moment in time, a fluttering in your heart when you see something that reminds you of him.

I no longer wish to feel the nostalgia, the pain, the missing you. I would say I wish I never met you at all, but even for a moment in time, you were half of my soul.

I no longer want to long for you, but mine for you is a love I cannot escape.