29th July/ 73

I miss you so much. I’ve been 

thinking about you a lot lately, 

thinking about how having

you here would change everything,

how having you here would 

make me a different person,

one who doesn’t wear the

stain of grief on her soul, and

I keep wondering how you would

react to life I have, to the panic

that surrounds me, to the

things I keep trying to do, the

things I keep failing at and

I don’t know- never got enough

time to find out what could

have been, never got time to

figure out what two parents

feel like and now, now I miss

you so much it hurts on the

best of days, is debilitating on

the rest; I don’t even remember

what your voice sounds like.

Don’t even remember what I talked 

to you about, my memories 

are flitting away like migrating

birds and I’m just sitting here,

watching them leave me, while

wishing, praying, hoping, that 

they’ll be back. That you’ll be back.

on not being able to escape you/ 72

Whenever I shuffle my Spotify 

library, every second song 

reminds me of you, reminds

me how no matter how

hard I try, you’ll always be

around, because the songs

are still good even if this

love isn’t, and whenever I

see you in the hallway I 

can feel my heart skip a beat, 

but it isn’t in a good way, more 

in a way that makes me want to

dig a hole in the ground and

crawl into it until the storm 

passes- now, you make me feel

like I’m falling but somehow, 

despite that, I still expect

you to catch me. Still expect

this not to lead to visceral 

longing; after all this, I still

expect it not to hurt; but the

expectations don’t matter 

because I can’t escape you, can’t

escape the trace you’ve left 

on my life- you cover all my 

memories like a layer of 

dust in an abandoned house,

and I don’t know where to 

start cleaning, don’t know

how to start forgetting, don’t

know how to start escaping

from the death trap this love is.

letting go/ 71

Every day is still a 

struggle, your face is 

inked onto my memory 

and I can’t seem to forget 

your voice; you haunt

me no matter where I am.

Today, all I could think of

was that night in the 

park, all I could 

remember was how

good this used to be, and

now my heart plummets 

when I look at you, every 

word you say a pinprick

on my pincushion heart,

and I don’t know how to

stop hurting. Today, all

I could think about 

was your hands on my 

waist, mine around your

neck, all I could think

about was the good 

times, but those are 

over now, and I’m not 

sure how to let go.

sadness/ 70

The truth is, I’m not sad. 

I’m not sad that this ended, no,

sadness doesn’t begin to cover it,

the truth is, every time I see you,

I can feel my heart shatter in my 

chest, I feel an ache within

my very bones for something 

more, for something less, for

something that isn’t so undefined,

and I know this isn’t about you,

or me, no, it spans the entire 

universe, maybe it was just destiny,

but it still hurts , still feels like

falling ten stories down, only

this time, you’re not going to 

catch me; but I’m not sad. I’m

not sobbing my eyes out for 

a boy, even if it’s you, but I’m 

still broken, still a bit hurt, still

feeling like the only thing I 

want is your arms around me;

I’m not sad. But the truth is,

I’m not over it.

might as well/ 69

You dig your nails into your 

wrist until crescent shaped 

smiles decorate every inch

of your butterfly hands, and 

you try your best not to cry,

try your best to keep it all

inside, try to sew up the

sadness inside of you so 

that everyone else thinks 

youre fine, but you never 

succeed, never manage to 

convince the world you’re 

alright, never manage to 

look sane enough to blend

into the crowd, so you lift the

knife and imagine it slicing 

through your bone- if you can’t 

blend in, you might as well

bathe yourself in red, you might

as well feel the pain you 

want to, you might as well 

flutter in and out of consciousness

until you finally reach where 

you belong- if you can’t be

normal, you might as well die.

regret/ 68

You say you regret what happened,

say that you understand it was 

a mistake, say you’re sorry, you’re

sorry, you’re sorry- like that’ll help

me trust anyone again, like that’ll

make this situation better, the thing

is, I don’t want your regret, nor 

your pity, I don’t want to know how

you feel, and I don’t want your 

excuses, because no matter 

what you say, it still happened and

you still did it- willingly. Knowingly.

You still chose to take what I gave

and make it into a joke, into a

story to tell, you still chose to 

cheapen the moment and I don’t

care about your regret. You can 

keep it- all I want is a time machine.


For once, I’m the one that’s 

heartbroken, I’m the one who 

can feel the weight of the

world slowly crushing me, I’m

the one who feels humiliated at

best, shattered at worst; For once,

I’m not the one at fault, not the

one who did anything wrong, just

the one who was left behind, just

the one who can’t get you out of 

my mind- I’m the one pining

for love already lost. I’m the one

wishing for a version of you I’m no 

longer sure exists, I’m the one who

was naive enough to think that

you were good, that you had

changed, that you were worth this

pain, for once, I’m the fool, and

I preferred it when you were.