小確幸

January comes and all I have left is this ache in my chest where you used to lay your head. Will you send me your birthday wishes at least? Or tell me that you remember on my 19th, once everyone’s left, and we lay there on my confetti-covered floor? The pink glow from my Ikea lamp illuminated the side of your cheek, your jaw, your nose, your lips just right, and I kissed you where the light hit. Now, l see your face in camera flashes in the back of my eyes. Now, I’m turning 21 without you, the lamp broken in my living room. Now, our photobooth prints remain hidden at the bottom of my sock drawer. Every so often, my fingers graze the laminate and I wonder if you still have the other copy in a box on your desk, with the first handwritten letter you’ve ever received from a girl who loved you. 

I loved you. I love you now. I will love you in the future; there’s a portion of my heart that will always belong to you and your calloused hands. You have my love forever in all its forms, in all its tenses, in all its painful ways. 

you’re the ghost haunting the corners of every street

we don’t have a montauk, is there somewhere else we can meet? 

i made you hard, but did i ever make you weak? 

we knew it was ending, so we gave each other two weeks 

theres so much i want to tell you, but i only ever do in my dreams 

where i lay myself bare just to prove that i feel

i’ll cut myself open again and again just to prove that we were real 

i remember, therefore i grieve; i love, therefore i bleed 

so blame it on the art, blame it all on me

there is not enough dirt on this fucking earth to bury my grief