so she's 16 now.

blow out the candles,
bring in the guillotine.

it's a bird, it's a plane,
it's a girl flying through the solar system,
she's lost,
she's alone,
and she can't find a place to land.
she can't find a place to call home.

i've been writing all these things
about the live of people
i have never met,
and maybe never will meet,
because they are trapped
in my mind,
and my mind,
is to scary a place to venture

i saw them
last night though.
i'll tell you
what they said

to be honest
i never want to fly again
if it means
i'll have another chance
to leaving you

i just might take the offer.

you smiled as i kissed you, and as i said goodbye, and as i waved from the top of the escalator. you mouthed i love you and blew one last kiss. it didn't matter though.
we both know it's just a mask.

"i just think
it would be better if we,
you know,
took a break"

three am messages do not a clean break up make.

good job, douchebag.

"we need some time apart,
to sort things out,
to figure things out,
to make sense of all this."

don't try to confuse me with your repetition. i know it just means that you want a new fuck.

the first night you left, i cried myself to sleep.
the second, i ate a box of
white chocolate raspberry godiva ice cream.
the third,
my friends and i
celebrated your absence.
"i figured things out
we've made sense of all this
we sorted things out"

that first "i"
was all i needed to hear
to know that you'd
had your taste of the other flavors,
and you'd decided you wanted me more.

too bad sucker

i'm done with you.

and then they stopped talking to me.

maybe they'll come back again.