• try harder
    explain more carefully
    watch your body language
    do not take too much space
    watch his body language
    read his eyes
    read the subtext, the subtitles of his broken language
    take care of his inner child
    make him feel safe
    completely abandon yours
    begging and crying in the hallway
    send another message
    another lengthy letter
    reassure over and over again 
    this time less needy, less clingy, less lovingly
    get a PhD in psychology
    enter psychosis but never text him 'cause boundaries!!!
    learn all about attachment styles
    go to yoga 5 times a week, find another studio—anything just to keep him comfortable and it doesn’t matter that
    you've been giving up everything you ever loved. God forbit he’d think you are stalking
    close the door, but never lock it
    if you can, make sure it’s slightly ajar
    just in case
    one Saturday morning he wakes up ready (for someone else)
    wish him happy birthday even though he’d failed to be your friend that last time you hurt yourself against his walls
    protect his walls at all costs, but make sure yours are low, and fenceless
    delete every word you’ve ever written, God forbid he’d accidently stumble upon your blog and realize you are still in pain
    do not move on
    stay stuck at arm’s lengh, stay loyal, stay in love
    but do not! do you hear? do not show it!!!
    never cry never scream never speak up
    just be quiet and bury it all inside
    if possible stop existing and if you ran into him on the street in the same neighborhood where you work, pretend you don’t kow him, actually no, just evaporate like a cloud that used to be rain
    never stop yearning
    keep writing books and soapy poems just in case he ever considers to consider you
    cut all your hair off and then let it grow out 
    get off pills and start taking them again, different ones, stronger ones, anything just to forget yourself and fall asleep
    spend all your money on mental-health support while watching him buy a new car
    also, very important! never, but never hold him accountable!
    just skip a step and blame yourself; ideally, tattoo on your forehead: Not the one, but still around! 
    let it die! where possible, pretend it never happened, just move on and never talk about it
    and under no circumstances tell him you love him!!! 
    never admit you are unhappy; never ask for his help
    and if you do, say it as a joke, or casually, or nonchalantly
    keep the conversation shallow, never go too deep; the ships are sinking when the goods are too heavy 
    but again, the best case scenario is to throw yourself aboard
    understand every hesitation, every voice crack, read every thought 
    never expect a confrontation
    believe the “I am fine” but follow up anyway
    however, never trust the “nothing” ‘cause it’s always “something”; it’s just your job to figure that out
    act ok when he moves on, no jealousy, no crocodile tears, no drama
    act ok when he erases you like a bad dream and never reaches out 
    act ok when he is figuring it out with her while he is in the red in your book
    underlined!

    There is a reason he left, and it’s you!

  • The crying 
    smelling my hair in the hallway that second time you left
    kissing my shins that last time you stayed

    Telling me about her

    breaking my trust; breaking your promise—never figuring it out 
    Taking everything from me—funny how the tables have turned
    wasting my words, my light, my joy
    making me feel stupid for caring
    calling me crazy
    being my safe place
    lying straight to my face
    avoiding me on the street
    making my yellow flowers mean nothing

    Telling me about her 

    the stupid dismissive “oui”
    dancing with her on my grave
    leaving like a fucking coward, not once, not twice, three times is a charm
    sharing a bed
    Feigning as my soft sweet boy—in truth a two-faced whore
    letting me want you, want you, and wanting
    reading my letters, not writing back once
    giving me flowers twice, that's it, that's fucking it
    making a promise 
    never walking with me
    leaving the life—on my account
    lingering
    always being tired, hangover or something 
    “yeah…”
    the stupid cheerful “oui” 
    Not answering my messages for 2 days, then ruining me and my Sunday night (I didn't sleep btw, for like 4 days after that)
    Spending weekends together—and was I supposed to know what you meant by that? I did.
    Never watching my shows
    Not fixing anything 
    Never trying 
    Locking me away in a mental box labelled “bro” and “DANGER - she loves me!” RUN!!!
    Mirroring my microexpressions in a random bar
    Never being sorry…
    Hiding behind not knowing and “a convoluted joke” or “a girl I am dating…
    yeah, off-and-on more than a year now, I guess”
    Building more walls
    smelling my hair in the hallway that second time you left
    playing stupid
    Watching me leave with your door ajar, not going after me, not saying anything, just watching.
    Trying with her
    not trying with me
    wearing masks
    acting all healed and nonchalant…fucking disgusting 
    Saying you loved me right before 
    never actually checking in on me for a whole year!!!
    not touching me for 3 weeks after a fight where I did all the fighting, because you just checked out…fucking dead weight 

    Telling me about her like I was an old buddy—I used to swallow your cum, I am sure you remember—it ruined my night, btw and my morning, and my following week—I am still waiting to feel something—it’s like the world is spinning while I am falling and can't seem to stop
    living on a fence—
    crying in my arms then saying the most heart-retching shit you can imagine
    something like: “I am not enjoying spending time with you anymore” 
    implying something like: “I did enjoy spending time with you, at some point, but not anymore, no” and
    calling that shit love—love is a verb, not a unicorn feeling—it means little if you never show up
    Chasing the thrill of being always right
    using me as a placeholder for the last ex—every other year—I see a pattern 
    abandoning a drowning friend
    Making me the villain 
    barely initiating 
    Never going out to dance
    pursuing someone who told you on the third date she wanted to get married 
    Always “needing to see my face” in fucking missionary
    Puppy eyes, shaking hands, spending weekends together, Wednesdays, afternoon sex, Monday mornings,
    meeting your friends, dinners, watering your plants, giving you head, wanting more of that, promising to figure it out, bro and “oh, my…” and
    never holding my hand in public
    calling me a “witch” in May 2025 and right after 
    “trying again” with someone else (I never was too good at math, but I am assuming that's what “more than a year” means) 
    Telling me about her like I am made of candyfloss—if you stub me I'll bleed. I do remember how you cried while leaning your forehead on my belly and I am
    losing my mind
    still
    dancing on my grave, yet breathing every day
    proving your ex was right
    calling my grief ranting

    NEVER COMING BACK

    Refusing to face the shallow, the empty, the soulless
    Crying in my fucking face not once, not twice, three is a charm 
    Trashing everything alive in me 


    To love love


    ...if there is any god…you’ll make it right, right?

  • 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 had 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, get
    blown away like a dandelion, but of flesh and bone—it’s all brutal
    I want to sink deeper and deeper within until all that'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 books 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 spiral down a vortex, like draining a bathtub after a failed attempt, almost wasteful
    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

  • “She is very pretty and doesn’t like me at all”
    “I like-like you”
    “I am not going anywhere”
    "I like how you move your wrists"
    “I am glad I met you”

    “Bro”
    “Take everything from me”
    "I AM happy"
    “You are gorgeous”
    "Shall we rename this to Maj Poem?"
    “You smell really good”
    “I love the little dance you do when you eat something you like”
    "Would you want to meet my friends?"
    “I love how you just rolled your eyes; is it that good for you?”

    “Oh wow”
    "I am taking you on a secret trip as your birthday gift...not a hike, I am not an idiot"
    “You are slow-eating-your-way to my heart”

    “Me too”
    "We'll figure it out"
    “I am still here”

    “You are easy to talk to”
    “Ofc we can be friends”
    “Ofc I will come, just got home after my basketball game, but I will come”
    “Ofc I missed you”
    “You have me”
    “You are fascinating”
    “You are a witch”
    “You are a witch”
    “You are a witch”
    “You are a witch”
    “You are a witch”
    “You are a witch”
    “You are a witch”
    “You are a witch”
    “You are a witch”
    “You are a witch”
    “You are a witch”
    “You are a witch”
    “You are a witch”
    “You are a witch”
    “You are a witch”
    “You are a witch”
    “You are a witch”
    “You are a witch”
    “You are a witch”
    “You are a witch”
    “You are a witch”
    “You are a witch”
    “You are a witch”
    “You are a witch”
    “You are a witch”
    “You are a witch”
    “You are a witch”
    “You are a witch”
    "You are a witch"
    “You are a witch”
    "..."

    ***

    I care about you
    I don’t care if you sleep with other men”
    I care about you
    “Don’t you have a life?”
    I care about you
    “I don’t want to kiss you sometimes”
    I care about you
    “I think we lack chemistry”
    I care about you
    <Do you want me?> "Yes...?!"
    I care about you
    “I am not ready”
    I care about you
    ✓✓
    I care about you
    “It’s all moving too fast”
    I care about you
    “There are so many things I need to do with my life”
    I care about you
    "I can't sleep"
    I care about you
    “But I think you are not the one”
    I care about you
    “I don’t want to date ANYONE”
    I care about you
    “I don’t know if I will ever find someone as beautiful and smart and funny as you, but I cannot do this.”
    I care about you
    “I will try again (with someone else)”
    I care about you
    “You are making yourself cry”
    I care about you
    ✓✓
    I care about you
    “You are crazy”
    I care about you
    “You are being invasive”
    I care about you
    "She doesn't laugh at my jokes, but you do"
    I care about you
    “I don't enjoy spending time with you anymore"
    I care about you
    “I slept with a coworker of mine”
    I care about you
    I know what women want (OTHER. not you. I never asked.)”
    I care about you
    “Am I supposed to remember your address?”
    I care about you
    “I am not that scary”
    I care about you
    “I can’t help you”
    I care about you
    “You didn’t wish me happy birthday either”
    I care about you
    "hence, the mirrage"
    I care about you
    ✓✓
    I care about you
    “I asked a girl I am dating to pick them up (the flowers, yellow, the same flowers I used to give you)”
    I care about you
    “...off and on for over a year now…I guess”
    I care about you
    “I don’t want to discuss this with you”
    I care about you
    ✓✓

    all my friends hate you now
    and don’t wish you well
    all your exes hate you now
    and don’t wish you well


    I care about you
    "Me too"






    "I care about you"

  • I hope she is everything you ever wanted
    And you’ve got insane chemistry
    yk, the chemistry you thought we were lacking 
    in that last month, because you didn't touch me for 3 weeks
    I do remember how you said that nobody had made you “feel this way before” or “cum” or “safe and loved”
    But then was it all mine
    my efforts 
    my thighs 
    my mouth?
    
    I hope she is also cooking you dinners
    and makes you laugh
    and you mirror her lips moving from side to side 
    I hope you bring her flowers
    any, not yellow
    never yellow 
    
    I hope you watch her shows with her
    
    And her favourite movie is deep and underground, not a fairy tale that you fall asleep before it ends
    I hope you listen when she wants to talk
    I hope you stop the urge to run
    I hope you come back to her, for her, because of her; well, you kinda do (yk, the off and on)
    I hope you kiss her often
    and you do all the things you needed to do with your life
    together
    I hope she’s met your parents
    and all your friends LOVE her (I hope nobody advised you to block her after the first breakup lol)
    I hope she waters your plants and picks up your packages when you are out of town 
    I hope she dries her hair right after 
    I hope she is blonde and slavic
    I hope she wears nail polish
    army green
    and you don’t use a condom
    I hope she's got perfect English, and knows how to drive
    I hope you kiss her shins, her face, her arms
    I hope she is here to stay
    I hope you two “figure it out” ...  and actually do
    I hope it's always easy, and you never fight
    I hope she never begs you to hear her
    I hope she doesn't need to start writing poems
    or letters
    or settle 
    for JUST a friend
    I hope she never sends you flowers
    I hope she never finds out about the “new” girl because she picked them up
    I hope she hears the word “love” before “too” and “I” instead of “me”
    I hope she never has to grieve you
    I hope you go down on her
    often
    devouringly
    I hope I never know
    and I hope I never have to wonder: “Is this her?” 
    whenever I smell you on someone random
    
    I hope you love her better, healthier, longer (for over a year)
    I hope she will never be the crazy ex
    I hope she is “the one” (yk, the one I wasn’t) ... I hope you fuck for hours
    and the sex is AWESOME
    I hope you always initiate
    I hope she doesn’t have to beg for closeness
    I hope she is the fucking one you want 
    I hope you’ll move in together and go to IKEA and buy kitchen stuff nobody uses 
    I hope you make her a birthday card with an inside joke on it, or no, actually, with something blunt, saying something like:
    “I love you. You are all I ever wanted. I am so glad I met you. 
    I am so glad you moved into my favourite city; here’s a cupcake, blow out a candle, make a wish, I will
    never leave. I promise. We'll figure it out.”
    I hope she doesn't go to my yoga studio on Sundays while you are playing basketball; I hope I was never
    unknowingly nice to her, or complimented her hair, a bracelet, or her outfit (‘cause, yk, I try to leave people better than I met them) 
    I hope you let her sleep in when you go to the gym, and your way back you bring her sweets
    I hope you finish watching Twin Peaks with her
    The reboot too
    I hope you go to the cinema all the time and do hand stuff in the dark 
    And when she wears lingerie you tear it down with your teeth 
    I hope she's loved and cherished and desired 
    I hope she doesn't return all your shit after you dump her
    I hope you never break up and 
    I never hear about it
    I hope she is everything you ever NEEDED and you are finally ready
    I hope she never finds random scrunchies in your apartment, or blonde hair, or missing condoms
    I hope your friends bring her vanilla flavoured coffee and follow her on Instagram 
    
    I hope she is everything you’ve ever wanted
    and I hope you are happy now
    happier 
    Just one thing:
    please
    do not
    let her
    sleep in the shirt
    I slept in
    
    Just please 
    
    I hope you fuck on the windowsill, in the shower, and in your car; on the kitchen countertop; in the middle of the room; on the floor; in front of your mirror; in a changing room and against a door
    I hope you are obsessed with her (I mean, yk, the on-and-off)
    I hope it’s intense and passionate and kinda’ dangerous; I hope it makes you feel dizzy and high and
    intoxicated
    I hope you get drunk all the time and make out in random bathrooms or at the back of a cab. I hope you
    never stop to think about what it was all for, or how, or why was it all necessary—us, I mean.
    
    Imagine writing all these poems, and the whole time he had, and I quote: “a girl I am dating, off and on…for over a year now, I guess.” 
    
    Fucking coward.
    
    I hope she is prettier and funnier and kinder
    Everything I am not
    I hope she is honey, and darling, and sweetheart
    never “bro”
    I hope she never ever swallows 
    I hope you text her all the time
    I hope she doesn’t know how I look
    and she never has to doubt you
    I hope she never has to ask if you want her
    I hope she never cries in your kitchen because she’d found a scrunchie 
    I hope she is never envious of your coworkers
    
    I hope you will never know what it is like to lose her
    forever 
    without remorse 
    or honour 
    or closure 

  • Everything I am not (!)

    Broken
    Less for loving more
    A failure for caring; still, even though
    Drowning and
    Gasping for closure
    Begging for a bit of kindness
    Starving, and
    Grateful for the breadcrumbs
    Understood
    Sleepless and 
    Rage-cleaning my bathroom at midnight
    Waiting for a miracle
    Clock-watching; avoiding the 12:12
    Looking for another reason 
    Chosen by him; good riddance (I am just putting a braver face, this shit hurts)
    Irreplaceable 
    Smelling like Byredo Slow Dance 
    A witch


    Everything I stopped doing (!)

    Buying cupcakes for his 1-year anniversary in my favourite city
    Writing handwritten birthday cards for that one person
    Wanting to accidentally run into him
    Keeping his stuff
    Biting my inner lip
    Wanting to understand
    Cooking for two
    Wanting him back 
    Hiding
    Being glad for meeting him
    Loving this city
    Reading between the lines; reading the eyes; reading his body language 
    Believing he is a good person 
    Not eating
    Our rituals without him
    Wanting us back
    Trusting the “me too”
    Chasing


    Everything I don't have anymore (!)

    His phone number
    His hoodies
    The birthday card he made for me
    His respect and devotion
    The desire to share another inside joke
    The title of the “girlfriend”
    The illusion of a future together 
    A safe space, a favourite person, my friend
    The intimacy of not needing words
    My beautiful long tress
    His worries 
    Empathy for his childhood wounds 
    The tenderness of crying together 
    Mercy for those who left
    The Wednesdays
    His word


    Everything I don't remember anymore (!)

    His intercom number
    The feeling of sonder
    The colour of his cushions (yes, the ones I built fortresses from)
    Why I thought calling each other “bro” was romantic 
    The Sundays
    What I did to deserve this
    The safety of waking up in his apartment, then making breakfast, then making love


    Things I thought I had, but I don't really…

    His hoodies
    The birthday card he made for me
    His respect
    The desire to share another inside joke
    The title of the “girlfriend”
    A future together 
    A safe space, a favourite person, my friend
    The intimacy of not needing words
    My beautiful long tress
    His worries 
    His Empathy 
    The tenderness of crying together 
    Mercy for those who left
    The Wednesdays
    His love and devotion


    You loved. You lost. Walk tall, hon, walk tall. And them, not loving you back, it's just…that's shameful. 

  • Life is long and boring
    And then it's short and fast

    Life is a million seconds of reaching
    And a million hours of waiting

    Life is a puzzle
    halfway finished
    What do you say when you finish the puzzle, anyway?
    You say: “it’s been hard; not caring”

    Life is promising yourself to stay celibate for a year
    and then breaking your vow later that month; the sex wasn’t even that good, you double-crossed the heavens for no reason
    at the trial, they, the higher beings, would look down at you; I imagine them immensely tall, not necessarily huge, just tall, taller than me and you, ‘cause insanely tall creatures have always freaked me out, so do the unusually small ones, anyway, they’d look down and say: "choose wisely, or you’ll be left with no choice, the reset button works one time; you don’t go back to the same love more than once"

    Life is a vase—
    half-full;
    all my flowers wilting
    and the water smells kinda’ odd

    Life is a weather forecast
    they, the taller beings, have promised me rain today
    I searched “weather prague” five times already
    no thunder no storm not even a drop
    what do you say when it doesn’t come down in buckets?
    You say: “I really wanted you” You say: “Good riddance.”

    Life is a doorknob 
    forced
    and rusting
    like a graying virgin, all the greater creatures would want your prayers muffling while  
    grabbing the sheets
    not this, not him!
    what do you say when he’s not the one, though?

    You say: “I’d rather run barefoot 
    and bruise my feet
    leaving bloody traces of my effort behind
    than 
    die in your arms, little by little; It’s soulless shit”


    Life is a million seconds when you try to reach them
    And a million hours waiting for them to reach back

    Life is a very bad joke told with a flair, and still, waiting for someone to laugh
    we’ve been here before
    the room was quiet then too

    Life is touching yourselves, looking each other in the eyes, and synchronizing 
    we know how it goes
    I'm always ahead; foreshadowing

    Life is exactly 874 days 
  • Not knowing is awful; knowing is worse

    I still wear your hoodies

    I have 14 plants now

    I know you thought I met someone; that's why. I didn't. I was scared you could have.
    I didn’t want to face her

    My hair is long again 

    I injured my back, and I need to do stupid recovery exercises

    I changed my yoga studio. I do miss my yoga instructor, though. I don't miss the anxiety of
    accidentally running into you

    I still have anxiety about accidentally running into you. It doesn't matter where I go

    I haven't been kissed by someone who actually wants to kiss me in a very long time.
    Actually no, I haven't been kissed at all

    I will never finish watching Twin Peaks

    I smell your perfume everywhere, for some reason, everyone is into Le Labo Matcha 26 lately

    Remember that dress I wore on our 3rd date? When my flight was delayed by 7 hours, and you asked me to stay at your place. We ordered pizza and watched The Big Bang Theory in your bed. I was giggling like a crazy person, not because the jokes were funny, but because I was happy. Somehow my weird giggling made you happy too. Anyway, I threw it away

    I want to move. Every day. I hate this city. I hate your neighbourhood. I hate that I have to be there three times a week for work. I should have moved two years ago when I got that job offer

    I am jealous as fuck of every single pretty girl I see. Because I imagine her being someone you could like. And that’s absolutely ridiculous, because I don’t even know what your type is. I don’t think I was your type. I think my laugh was infectious, my hair long and shiny, and my eyes sparkly. I don’t think I was your type. I just think my joy was contagious, and you needed some

    I wrote a book

    I had a pretty bad health scare some time ago. I always think there is something wrong with me, but this time there really was

    I got a weighted blanket. It’s heavy and fluffy. It’s like sleeping on a cloud. I hate sleeping alone

    I still have nightmares about random blonde chicks—sometimes I think it’s because I found that blonde hair in your apartment that one time. Other times, I think it’s because you actually cheated with a blonde girl

    I want to reach out all the time, but I don’t. I hate you for not reaching out either

    I want you to kiss my shins—the same way at least once. I don’t miss you. I miss you from October three years ago

    I don’t cook anymore

    I tried to date people—nice people. It never went past date three. The reason was always me

    I kept seeing a black Mercedes with your numbers. I thought I was entering psychosis, then I remembered your dad had one. Two months later, I saw you with a new car. I wasn’t even stalking—it was just there in my face…making sense

    I don’t remember last year. I completely dissociated. I just wrote a lot of poems (and a novel) 

    I didn’t ghost you; I was still in love. I know you hate my guts now

    I am allergic to the sun. lol

    I cried for your birthday, mine too

    I have a coffee date on Thursday. I asked him out because, well, he seems kind. Also, I think you got my sunflowers and chose silence; unbearable shit

    My Monstera is enormous

    I wish you’d knock on my door one evening, on a random Tuesday, maybe bringing me some yellow flowers. No, forget the flowers; you were rushing—no time for flowers—but you had some candy, the pistachio ones, because I like those. You know where I live, but you couldn’t find my name at the intercom, and it was late. You almost left, but then, then you remembered my infectious laugh, so you texted something along the lines of, “Are you home? Are you asleep?” I am obviously home, and I am obviously not asleep; I can’t. I’d text back: “Yes, I am. Did something happen?” “Can you please open the door? I am outside; I need to talk to you,” you’d immediately reply. I’d buzz you in a haze. We won’t talk, not until the morning at least

    We didn’t fix anything. I am still angry as hell

    I went to Vienna. I felt like that chick from that movie

    I’ve discovered I am actually a cat person

    My next relationship will end in marriage. I am not going through another breakup. I am barely surviving this one

    I still eat very slowly

    I went on a good walk today

    I would have never left.

  • I am a black cat
    crossing your street at midnight 

    I am a mad man 
    screaming and laughing, then crying and shouting 

    I am a little bit crazy, 
    I mean, I know where you live

    I AM SUCH A RED FLAG

    I want to talk all the time about feelings and their meaning
    You are crashing it at small talk

    (no wonder they broke up, wait…)

    I am a little bit too much
    but you know that already

    I am a faint trace
    crossing your way
    watching your apartment light up from a cold sidewalk
    and then sobbing, and weeping like an overly dramatic 
    female character in a soap opera 

    For fuck's sake

    I AM INVASIVE

    I am a stalker
    I know where you work
    I’ll send you happy-birthday-flowers ‘cause I am so so obsessed 
    I mean, really, I might need a restraining order

    I AM TOXIC

    stuck in a love-hate relationship with logic
    I need professional help

    I am a mindreader
    that’s it
    I know everything

    I am manipulative, compulsive, I am fucked in the head
    the masks fell off, this is the real me—drowning in my own grief
    take it or leave it 

    (no wonder he left, wait…)

    ...

    imagine loving someone and the whole time they hated your guts
    I don’t have to imagine

  • I imagine a gray, dim day 
    
    as the Eastern European legend has it: 
    when it pours, stick a knife in the ground—it will die down—a good luck token
    I’ve been told
    as a kid I watched my mother fight her fear of thunder 
    watched her run towards its core—a heavy sentence—someone has been 
    a shitty person—here on earth
    
    Find the deadliest blade
    Go deeper, darker
    Stab harder, my love, cleaner, no sharp edges 
    You’ve always been better at this kind of stuff; there is a joke here somewhere, there is always a joke, isn’t there?

    Oh, to be loved the way I loved

    You poor, poor child...
    Have they let you wander, kiss their toes, kneel
    like a begging joker?

    A heavy storm is always a curse
    as the story goes:
    you want the skies crying 
    like a feral widow in her 30s
    But no worries, there is always a hero, he’s come to save us!
    Had they spread the word? That first word, that last crisis? A prince charming, a knight in shinning armor and a happily ever after—that's your dragon!
    Had they drunk from an empty cup, evening out the immoral, healing 
    a universal oath, but no worries, there is always a forest hag 
    watching you
    like a feral damsel in distress
    that's your monster!

    Oh, to be desired the way I desired: he bakes sourdough I write poems
    there must be someone 
    there must be some God(s) someone who knows where
    that sweet sweet nothing and my boy 
    are
    I’ve been counting 
    hours, days, blessings
    “he bakes sourdough I write poems”

    I imagine a gray, dim night 
    some yellow flowers
    a knock:
    “I am sorry”
    “me too”