drafts from January.

"He didn't want me but he didn't want me to forget him."

pleasefindmehere

This is for you and your jeans,

the length of the couch you settled in and that DiCaprio movie that tasted better with dessert,

although you overcooked it.

The whole night tasted like dessert, but you overcooked it.

She thought on FaceTime calls between cities 

and the rebellious nature of the rare-skinned boy with clean hair.

The girl who drank poison with her milk and cookies,

because you amused her with chocolate drinks and rustic compliments, so she propped Oxfords on a table & smoked your pretty eyes.

pretty lies*

You stole a kiss that set her head on fire.

So she trudged through wiry dates with half-sincere smiles & fumbled into her bed at the end of them to hear you match her gruesome opinion on jerseys & fake handholds.

All the while batting her eyelashes at long drives & empty gas tanks.

She tried to stab you with a hot iron, cook her mark into that skin.

But you proved that you were fireproof

and only pulled her closer.

You liked the scent of warm skin & money more than salad dates & tie brands.

She was marked by needles that turned to gashes that turned to holes,

bandaged by witty smiles & muddled intentions

that smelled delicious

but hurt like hell.

And you wouldn't hold her hand

because the fear of commitment was like cinderblocks on your lungs

so she let you set them carefully on hers.

For a whole season she slaved over you,

pleading for a gust of wisdom to avalanche you under good intentions,

while you grabbed girls' smiles by the bitter ends, 

and promised her that she was your oxygen.

She loved you for it like fire & paper.

Each so wickedly used.

But you consumed her while the edges burned and wielded a beautiful shape out of her

but watch closely, darling, she's almost gone.

The beauty only lasted 4 seconds.

She could've been preserved.

But there's no fun in that.