I remember the beginning.

When there were more good days then bad.

With you telling me I’m everything and me feeling like everything else is nothing. 

All that falling asleep and waking up together. Thinking we finally got it right.

And I remember all those long nights when my days revolved around you.

 Being on the road and between the sheets. SEX. Or love, I don’t know. But the break up bench didn’t break us. And I’m hoping you’ll still call when you’re 90. 

Popcorn and Alien movies. But the real demons were in our heads.

Nights of wine and headache. Lacking sleep and future visions.

 But we were only opening up to shut down.

And when the rush from the cotton candy wore off I wished we’d never gotten this close. Cause maybe then we’d still be beautiful to one another. 

I saw a dead white dove in the trash,

and I thought ”what horrible troubles have you gotten yourself into to end up here?”

And then I remember the days that followed the good days. 

Itchy skin and forgetting how to breath. 

You kissing pretty girls. Me fetching my tangible stuff. 

Leaving a toothbrush behind to remind you that I’m gone.

Leaving, knowing that one third of myself is left with you. 

Wanting to scream at you but you’re too sad and kind.

Is this how bad it feels to feel?

There was a girl in New York who wanted to commit the most beautiful suicide.

She lit up the entire room with candles and after swallowing pills she laid down in her bed to wait for her face to take on the color of her white dress, the color of innocent and peace. 

But the pills made her sick, so she ran into the bathroom and died with her head on the toilet seat.  

And you and I did just that.

I remember how we ended without a beginning.

How the bad days tainted the good days until I no longer remember how the good days felt.