you

i said i wouldn't write you a poem

"this is not for you" i said

and it was the best fucking poem i've ever written

well this is for you:

the sweetest thing i ever saw

was a boy who made everything awkward and

showed up with flowers to surprise a person

hug a person

love a person

love her love her love her

while i watched

while

what's been in my lungs for a year

suspended, breathless

- all the duhduhduhduhduh hammering

broken little music box inside my head

blood rushing around, 

spilling myself everywhere -

it all cluttered and collected at my feet

splinters on a dusty stage

the most beautiful thing on a dusty stage

and it isn't your fault 

but fuck you

i FUCKING HATE you

i FUCKING LIKED you
- a lot -

i'm a FUCKED UP PROJECT

where all the projections

the "you and me could really exist" -

all that shit, all of it  -

crush my skull in

leave me sputtering

a sadness kicking my body in

i wanted to FUCKING KISS you

i want you to be FUCKING HAPPY

so happy

you never read this piece of shit.


an edit by a 17-year-old chaotic kid: 
dear boy, you have been replaced. my condolences.
because i love violin boy 
(likedyou) (lovehim) (it'sstupidiknow)
a whole lot more than i've ever loved anyone (likethat) and i won't ever write him a poem because he doesn't deserve such a shitty award.
see, he's violin boy. he can play my lungs out all weird and laughing in broken notes. harmonic girl me, when i'm near him i'm a lot fuller, a lot closer to being a whole note. weird, huh? 
he's honest and he plays violin like sex and he makes me laugh.
his name is Kit Zimmerman.
(sorry Kit) (butithinkiloveyou)
sorry boy.