We sat on cold park benches and traded memories like ghost stories
and exhausted fairy tales, throwing snowballs at the post office
across the street. I sucked on icicles because my throat hurt from
the cold you gave me, kissing my lips chapped from to many words
and we traded gum (you had watermelon flavored bubblegum and I had spearmint dentyne).
I used mcdonalds napkins to wipe away tears that kept coming
and your voice was sandpaper on my cheeks and-
oh, we're leaving bloody footprints in the empty fountains
and running from our dreams (again). your hands are cold
on my face and my teeth nearly rip through the filter on my cigarette.
I write you letters that I never send and their
blood stained, apathetic, words scrawled in blue ink and
green sharpie and sometimes I write you poetry and leave it on
your jeans and your t-shirts but you shove them in the washer
without looking and they smear off into the water.
You run your fingers through my hair, and I close my eyes
while you kiss my neck because this is supposed to be a dream,
and the scissors I'm using find my fingers and I peel back the skin to see
if there's anything (you.still.love.me.right?) underneath.
i'm still waiting for you.