Trigger warnings for: Suicide / suicide ideation, alcohol, self harm. || PART 2.
Pronouns been changed to be neutral: grammar may differentiate from the poems in the book because of this. Change them to fit what you need to if you must.
The best way to get to heaven is to take it with you.
Heaven isn’t a place, it’s a feeling.
In many languages, the word for heaven is the same as the word for sky.
I hope the exit is joyful and I hope never to return.
I will not cry though I will want to cry.
Though I will hate myself for not crying.
When my — dies, if I am still alive, I will slouch on my knees as though in prayer.
I will write one or two poems, then I will no longer think of her.
How miraculous that we all keep our shit together.
I want to watch the horizon as it gets farther away.
How miraculous that I can go basically anywhere.
BALLAD OF THE BRUISED LUNG
Many things happen in your life that shouldn’t.
I love you but I can’t keep letting you show up where I am and remind me of what I said to you all those times.
I was drunk that one time.
You are like a comet: every so often you come around to fuck up my shit.
When you’re dumb enough for long enough, you’re gonna meet someone too smart to love you and they’re going to love you anyway, and it’s gonna go so poorly.
To say I hate you would imply a world in which I kissed more than your stomach.
Look, we’ve established that I’m a jerk.
That’s not the kind of story I’m telling here.
I’m so lucky we all lived through what we were to become who we are.
Home is wherever people know our stories.
The worst lie is to say good-bye.
Where are you going that I won’t follow?
I think it might be them, come to get me.
You will want to kill yourself but you won’t.
You no longer think of suicide as a house you will build one day.
You need to feel vulnerable in front of anyone else.
They filled something in you that’s still full, even though they’re gone.
OUR NUMBERED DAYS PT. III + IV.
You never give away your heart; you lend it from time to time. If it were not so, how could we take it back without asking?
So maybe love is a form of crying.
I have been wondering mostly, if love and sanity are the same thing.
When I say I am in love I am also saying the world makes sense to me right now.
I know that love is not the same as knowing everything, but because they are gone, because about her there are unknowns that will now remain unknowable.
Though they couldn’t name it, their favorite color is bakelite seafoam green.
They loved me once, though it wasn’t for very long, though it was distracted, though it shouldn’t have happened– once, they loved me.
The you and me I have made you and me in my head.
There is never enough time.