you were like that kick of adrenaline received after loud noises or sudden surprises

i loved you first, 
i loved you first. 

a dime-store dramatic, 
you laughed with painted lips 
and left red marks in the shape of your mouth on my cheek

a smile like wine, 
your dark eyes are one of the things i miss most
because there's something to be said 
about being able to have an entire conversation 
with someone solely though looks 

and you're gone and not coming back, 
and i'm just stuck here on the opposite side of the globe 
hoping you don't forget about me

the lonely teenager who curls in bed at night 
with blood-soaked skin and cries themself to sleep 
although most nights i don't sleep at all

i stay awake and listen to music so i don't have to dream, 
dream about massacre and death and the words 
"This is not a dream" right before teeth sink into the flesh of my arm 

you're like the eiffel tower 
and i'm just the discarded, burnt-out lightbulbs of Vegas

i don't want to tell you any of that, though, 
(i do, i do, i do, i lie so much and mostly to myself)
because you don't deserve to be burdened with my f*ck-ups 

you're so bright and i don't want to damage you 
i think i'd hate myself even more for that

these days i drown myself in tea to help me sleep before bed 
(at 3am when the sky is dark and the birds are all quiet)
(because if there's one thing i can't stand it's silence)
(and my definition of "bed" is last resort and 1am, 2am, 3am)

and i tell myself to not message you
because i don't even know what time it is where you are
and there's a chance you could see it

and you're doing well
and i'm not 

and i will not hurt you
i can't, 
you're the only thing in my life that has always been good

and besides, 
you'll probably never find out how bad it is, 
and i intend to keep it that way. 

a dead man can't tell tales. 

The End

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