The last 3 letters of the spring

The bridges had burnt a long time ago; you haven’t even noticed
I know you tried to save the ashes
I guess the bird got tired of dying and rising and dying again
It’s kinda romantic if you think about it
I couldn’t be a witch forever
you have to burn me at the stake
this is no miracle 
I have no superpowers
If you kill me I’ll stay dead

We only say the truth when we know it's too late to change something:

The bridges had burnt a long time ago; I haven’t even noticed
There was no goodbye kiss at 2 am, no last words, no lingering looks

It’s way worse

I want to pack all my shit and leave
I want to run barefoot through broken glass
I want it to bruise my feet—I want to feel something, something else
I want to fuck a stranger and let him cum in my mouth—I want to hurt myself like that
I want to unlove, uncare, uncrave, unremember
I want to cut pieces of myself into smaller pieces and then, then break down into dust
blown away like a dandelion, but of flesh and bone, it’s all brutal
I want to sink deeper and deeper within myself until all it’s left are long black hairs and poems
I want to stop writing; delete every word; hide every thought—yeah, I want to hurt myself 
I got so good at explaining that I forgot to be understood
I want to scratch my eyes out
It’s all ruthless: my shins her shins
my kisses her kisses
my head her head
my side of the bed her side of the bed
my kitchen my spatulas my ice cream in his fridge her kitchen her spatulas her ice cream
my 10 months her over a year
my warm water her warm water
my soft sweet boy her soft sweet boy
my yoga studio across the street her yoga studio across the street
my Wednesdays her Wednesdays
my hoodies her hoodies
my loft in New York her loft in Brooklyn 
my sex on the windowsill her sex on the windowsill
my shows her shows
my weekends her weekends
my book on his shelf her stuff
my toothbrush on his sink her toothbrush next to his 
my vanilla body milk her tampons

it’s all vicious

I want to throw up 3 times a day and choke on a tiny piece of apple
I want to jump from a very tall building and break into a vortex 
I want to be 18 again and cry in my bathroom, and harm myself with the truth: “I don’t want to be here”
I want to burn all of my clothes and 
my shins her shins it’s all the same it’s all twisted 
I don’t want to be here
I don’t want to be here

I don’t want to be here
I don't
want
to be