Anyone I have ever loved is a ghost I keep alive in my notebook
By feeding them the ink from my ball point pen,
And let them sleep between the college ruled lines like
Some sort of
Inhumane bunk bed.
And for the longest time,
I thought that would help me cope...
But with every page forward,
I just keep pacing,
Like a misprinted flip book.
Every time I write an "E" that looks like a "3",
It reminds me,
That I should have been more understanding.
The hardest thing I ever did was partition myself from your parasitic dependance-
but it was also the weakest.
There came a day,
When I didn't even know where to put my hands, because,
They were so used to hangin' on your shoulders,
And it's still really nice to see you from time to time,
Even if it is just a figment of my imagination!
Everyone I've ever loved is a porcelain doll,
That got knocked off the shelf,
And shattered into a million. Little. Pieces.
That I'm still finding,
Five years later,
Between all the mismatched socks and dust bunnies under the bed,
And every night I like awake,
thinking about what I could have done to keep you alive,
or in my life,
or anywhere but the little blue bunk beds.