headspace

[c--p]

I couldn't tell you how many times I've typed your name into my phone, just to let you know I couldn't sleep and our time difference usually works in favor of my insomnia. But I stopped pressing send. I tried to a long time ago, but something - usually work or whiskey - always made my fingers slip. But it's real this time. I stopped. And now I miss you and want to tell you. It's not romantic or sexual - it's just comfort. You're comfort. You're like HGTV on a hotel screen with a bowl of EasyMac. You feel like home in the most platonic way. Maybe because I spent so much time not home this year and you were always there, in one way or another. But something changed - or really, I just noticed it. I've got too many missing pieces and you don't carry glue.

[c--p]

I can't help it, but I swear I've tried. It's just... It's the way you let me trail my fingers across your chest when we hug goodbye. The way you tickle my lower back when you want me to turn around. The way your eyes grow the second you realize I stopped smiling because of something you said. The way you know my coffee order but hate saying it out loud. The way we avoid small talk - settling for long-winded rants or pure silence instead. Or when we're driving and you're angry and all I want to do is scratch your neck and tell you to breathe. It's how when you're around, it feels like I can breathe.

[c--p]

I remember that sinking feeling of 16 all too well. The tiredness that knocked me out when the sun was up, only to leave me awake and alone with the moon. The bruises and scars that I swore were accidents, but were actually perfectly calculated wounds designed for relief. The constant feeling of worthlessness, brought on by a boy who wouldn't take "no" for an answer. And everyone thought I was the crazy one. 22 is starting to yield the same results. Except it's not a boy who has broken me; it's a company that started digging my grave, even though I'm still breathing. I'm exhausted trying to fight their fight, and have slowly watched the marks accumulate in an attempt to take some control back. It's 5:00 a.m. and I can't sleep because I slept the afternoon away. There's nothing more that I can do and still it's not enough. And everyone thinks I'm the crazy one.

[c--p]

'We're friends, right? We're friends. We're friends,' you said with absolutely no certainty. Which was valid, because we weren't. In fact, I'm honestly not sure we are now. I'm your friend, but you're hardly mine. I let you vent about the things that drive your blood pressure up, but you know nothing about the demons dancing around in my head. I changed my flight so I could be there for you when it counted, and you couldn't even get out of bed. I am honest, I am kind and I would drop just about anything for you - all you have to do is ask. Maybe you would, too, but I would never ask. Most of the words that slide off your tongue or out of your fingertips make me feel stupid or embarrassed, or some awful hybrid of the two. Sometimes I think the only thing keeping my number in your phone is that our checks are signed by the same person. But we're friends, right?

[c--p]

I'll tell you why. It's because we were both a few glasses of whiskey in and you just looked at me. Which brown eyes that didn't scare me, you looked at me. There was no one else in the hotel room; everyone else was across the hall. I was sitting on the desk and you were a few feet away on the bed. You looked at me and you said goodnight. You could have done anything and you just looked at me.

and now you won't.

[c--p]

Three weeks sober and five years clean, and I would love to blame this heartbeat on the caffeine.

[c--p]

You swore up and down that it was the distance. The miles between us were too much to push us past "casual". That was the word you used, right? I remember it stung when it left your tongue. And then you met her and all those miles seemed minuscule. I get it, I suppose. She's blonder. She's prettier. She's skinnier. And I guarantee her head and heart work a whole lot better than my broken ones do. I hope you're happy, goddamn, I really do. But I wanted to be the one to chase your demons away and listen to the songs you refused to let go unsung. But I wasn't enough, and that's fine. It just hurts like hell that you found your "enough" just around the block from where we first dropped our guards.

[c--p]

We're quiet, and innocent. There's so much comfort in your presence that my shoulders immediately drop when everyone else leaves the room and our silence carries no weight; it's just how we are. We're quiet. It's all physical, in the simplest way. Your head in my lap; my fingers in your hair. Sometimes we tease and sometimes we kiss, but for the sake of comfort - not lust. There's an understanding that we exist on a couch and not in a bedroom. We're innocent. I thought I was falling for you. On paper, I was head over heels. But I can't picture your eyes right now, so I know it's not real. That's how I always know it's real. You don't have me hypnotized, you just have me hooked. Hooked on the safe feeling that trickles into my bones when you slip your arm around me and let me close my eyes.

but my heart doesn't beat any louder for you

[c--p]

You curl up in my lap like you need saving My fingers tug at your almost-black hair My nails trace the calluses that line your palms You let the stiffness fall out of your limbs You pull me in to rest against your heavy chest My body starts to miss the weight of your chin My hands relax right below your rib cage You stop trying to fight your falling eyelids You grip my hip bone like you want to fuck me My self conscious self pretends I'm not scared My ear picks up on your quiet little heartbeat You lay your scruffy cheek upon my lazy head You doze off to the feeling of my skin on yours My mind reminds me I'm in way too deep

[c--p]

You grip my hips like you want to fuck me, But tickle your fingers up my sides instead. You've locked your lips for the sake of safe, But I know you're fighting a goddam feeling.

just like I'm not

[c--p]

I get it now - why we didn’t work. You always thought I was more broken than I was. You convinced me I was more broken than I was. But I’m not. I haven’t been in a long time. You didn’t want the burden of saving me but I didn’t need to be saved at all. I’m a hell of a lot stronger than you’ve ever been. Vulnerable doesn’t mean weak or broken. Vulnerable means I am strong enough to put myself out there regardless of the risk of getting hurt. You tried to convince me different, and for a long time it worked. But everything is so clear now. I am good. I am strong. You have zero power over me. You never should have, anyway.

[c--p]

I can watch you like the rain and never get bored Your hair matches your eyes and I think I'm yours I've lost sleep and tears because I'm not enough You say you miss me and I'm too afraid to call your bluff

[c--p]

I'm not even sure we saw sunlight. It was early when you left, and I was still tangled in your sheets. That t-shirt I stole did little to keep me warm after your body left the bed, but I was far too lazy to pick up the various clothes that were tossed across your floor in the heat of the moment. You kissed me goodbye, said you had to catch a flight. "I'll see you in May," I said through a weak smile with no teeth. I tied my shoes slow, and locked the door when I left. The sun started to creep in as I shuffled on home, and it hasn't gone down since I figured out I'm not alone.

[c--p]

I lied, you know. I told you those years when we first started hanging out were black holes in my memory - scrubbed free with vodka and whiskey. But I remember every moment with you. Like the night you took me to the roof of that venue in the East Village and told me you wanted to fall in love with your finger around the belt loop of my jeans, even though I was just 16. I remember you kissing me in that parking lot in Pennsylvania with smoke still dancing on your lips, even though I was just 16. I remember you shoving me against the wall of that bar in Alphabet City and slipping your tongue down my throat, even though I was still just 16. I remember your 23rd birthday and how you snuck your hand in my back pocket while my lips touched your neck, even though I was just 17. And I remember you quietly disappearing after my fingers traced lines up your thigh, even though I had just turned 18.

[c--p]

I washed your shirt but it still smells like you. When you kissed me I didn't have to think twice. It felt like we had been kissing all our lives. When my clothes came off I didn't feel like I needed to hide in darkness or under sheets. You've already seen so far past my skin it didn't matter. Curled up against your chest is the best I've slept in months. The nicest things a boy has ever said to me fell off your tongue while we were naked, and your eyes were looking straight into mine. You're the best "just friends" I've ever had.

hooking up with your best friend is super chill highly recommend

[c--p]

It’s been seven months since we spoke; an additional two since I saw your face Yet somehow I haven’t run out of words about you About the broken heart and the need for scarring skin you left me with Or the years before our downfall when you swore you had my back Which now blend with the early days, when all we knew was how to sin I swear I’m not bitter and your taste has left my mouth But you stole my sense of comfort and left me with a case of self doubt

[c--p]

You only saw me for my broken pieces Self-inflicted scars that have long since healed Visions of red pooling against white porcelain Heartbreaks and headaches and all the things we hate Numb from the blue pills and high from the whiskey 17 and screaming ‘please just fucking love me’ Those cigarettes that never seemed to stay lit Your blonde hair, my brown eyes and pitch black skies Empty promises, unanswered messages, and all your damn lies Young Gods not believing in something bigger than you and I Broken basses, church pews and 'I swear I miss you’ First kisses in parking lots, last kisses blocks from subway stops