iheartabortions

i have forgotten the sound of seasons passing, your voice when you loved me and the touch of a goodbye that never lasts. you leave with fists clenched and doors shut silently, you leave without a word because it's the spaces between your raised words that bruise the most. i whisper words with two syllables and you lodge a loudspeaker in your throat for every goodnight which translates to stop it stop talking shut the fuck up this morning i woke up at the bottom of the stairs, crumbled into nine months of walking backwards and i have been fooled into thinking that bitch really is my name baby, baby, ssh. be quiet. holding fis

i don't know anything about science but i know a lot about time travel and if i could, i would grab her hand while she wrote her first poem, stand beside her as she tacked it to the fridge. i would whisper secrets about fairytales, explain to her that some days will just smell like your grandmothers perfume and your grandfathers suit. other days, you'll smell flowers that aren't really there and instead of fridges, you will learn to tack smiles in spaces where they no longer fit. i would tell her about the deer by the well, hand her a map so she could find her way home but i had better lessons to teach her like how to inhale

the atlantic gave birth to you like a tsunami. late nights spent buying tiramisu for pretty girls with green eyes. playing with her fork like she was sewing the seams of clouds together. we spent too long floating on hardwood floors with blankets wrapped tightly like a second skin, trying to protect things that might someday be broken. using fear as the only insurance against heartache and loneliness. pretending like we weren't already familiar to those things like we were to crumbs on kitchen counters, so we swept loneliness beneath the rugs and told it to stay. we were using words like forever without being able to count the distance betwe

I want to bring paper to bed so I can wake to the outline of your body moulded into my sheets, transfer it to canvas and give a copy to everyone who has ever lost their smile because, you have the power to give it back.

i was never old enough to understand the concept of distance or time or how things pull and hold us apart and keep us there. we were at opposite ends in so many senses. i don't remember much but i remember being away. away from you and all the time that i spent creating more distance in spaces where there was already way too much. i remember feeling content and happy when we spoke and now, i wonder if i was always too uncomfortable with happiness to ever let you give it to me fully. i remember you disappearing and then i did too. i was never old enough to understand that sometimes things will not work out the way  that we plan and

i have been writing bad poetry and it's all about you.

you are lovely. even when you're not which is most of the time. you don't speak often. one word. two words and yet, i hold on like a suicide jumper hanging on for a saviour for a sign that maybe things don't have to end like this. give me a reason not to jump. you speak softly, rarely and i swear, i still wear yellow to catch your attention, i still put a traffic cone on my head in hopes that you'll divert, stop, take notice of the road. please don't swerve me aside. if you could open me up like you open their legs if you could open your eyes to me i promise, i could be more. i could be more than this girl who is sta

there are rivers that take me to oceans and i need to see where they meet at the mouth and kiss like they knew how much effort it had taken for them both to reach that point. there are rivers that are shallow and i tell you that they are your soul. beautiful, beautiful but never enough to drown me.

dearest, m. i asked you to help me improve my math grade so i could count calories. m, i needed to feel empty and i know you'll never understand that. i needed to cleanse my soul, heal, not permanently, just enough to turn my insides out. lovely, m. i still feel nothing but guilt for telling my mother. i often find myself falling and questioning what i was so sure of then. m, i'm not sure i'll ever know who i am. i miss you, m. i'm seeing a boy now. i think you'd like him, m. he spells everything correctly and he eats like i do when i dream. his voice is the silence that i've needed for so long. quiet, m. there are times when t