i don't know how to feel about anything anymore

really hoping that i'm getting over continuously throwing myself into the vicious cycle of being temporarily stoked on something only to discover that it's bad for my sanity and lack of emotional stability to get attached too quickly to pretty much anything aside from pizza

but honestly, i can't imagine wasting my breath on someone other than you

always strange looking back in the archives of the moments where my skin touched a blanket that would feel unfamiliar if i were to run a fingertip across it now but for some reason felt so much like home back then

here here here here here
let me list everywhere you're
not here here here here

trying to think of topics for thesis and it's not going well:
change
solitude
empty
full
confused
lustful
hateful
repetitive
destructive
unintentional
intentional
condescending
careless
overwhelmed
stuck

i'm sorry i continue to write

incapable of even fathoming the idea of being alone so the temporary solution of an unfamiliar bed and a new body seems like the easy way out, doesn't it?
but what happens when the sun comes up and i'm hungover, too weary to carry the weight of his boyish limbs towards a good excuse for the mess we made?
i'm full of regret and too much wine, my mouth is dry from spitting out too many lies, telling myself this is okay for now, this is okay for now
it's fucking not, and i'm well aware that i've destroyed everything i've been trying to cling to with all my might, i've never been that strong-willed
so to make matters worse, i found the crumpled paper you wrote me, remembered how it felt to be handed a heart, bloody and real, and turn it down
the thought of someone caring about me that much baffles me, you know, always has, always will, because i feel like i'm fucking worthless

I've come to the realization that I only miss you at night.
It's desperate and it's pathetic and it's a goddamn phenomenon
that I only care about the way you still remember
how to tilt my head like a compass pointing south,
how to touch my collarbones that dip like the Grand Canyon,
how to count my ribs like you would the Seven Wonders,
how to leave your mark like thin, red state lines on my back,
how to hold my hipbones. Steer them to you.
Drive recklessly, crash into me.
We're already a mess, a little broken glass won't make a difference.