Rest In Peace

Three hour church

You probably won’t be missed

To be happy:

• Get some boys
• Drop some hoes
• Take a nap
• And kill the bros
• No kill the hoes
• No kill the bros
• Stop it this is my poem
• Shut up it’s on my blog
• Rachel what the heck
• I don’t like this anymore
• This is why you aren’t on the House of Representatives.
• This is why you’re single
• You’re single too
• YOURE SUCH AIDS
• Aids rock!

This is all just a means to an end

It has been a few weeks and the radio silence seems to be doing no apparent harm

Inside, it is silent

But outside this house of wooden walls and faded memories Defcon 5 has begun

There is a lot of space between the electrons and a nucleus

I’ve started buying Christmas presents and I have the perfect gift in mind for you, but I don’t think I’ll buy it. Because committing to gift giving would leave me in a solitary line destined for lack of reciprocation.

The problem is not that I have realized that I am okay without you. It’s that I know at the exact right moment, I could be happy with you.

But I have never been a fan of backsliding.

My personality craves a sense of finality that the end of this friendship is unable to offer. I want to yell and cry one last time, but then we’d have to explain. To every passing person that inquires on why we aren’t featured in Snapchat stories or VSCO journals, explain that “we aren’t friends anymore”.

And when people ask me what’s up with you. I have to fight back an ocean of emotions that try to crash over. I’m forced to bite my tongue and say something vague and generic as to not draw attention to the space between us.

So maybe this year, we pretend that Christmas doesn’t exist. Maybe we’ll pretend that December 25th is just another day and we’ll disregard the gifts piling at our feet from loved ones who have actually stuck around.

Just like we pretend that our lack of communication and the stretch of distance that extends everyday really isn’t that long.

“Ya look good.” And for once this won’t be echoed by sarcasm, but it’ll flow genuinely from my lips. Because you do look good, you look happy. And a dusty corner in my heart will swell, because I’m happy that you’re happy.

But teach me how to revisit old memories with low saturation and a grain of 8.9 without tearing up. Because the Snapchat memories of late nights at Taco Bell facing a brick wall adorned with beer signs where we laughed all night long, still make my heart groan

Teach me how to be happy for you without feeling pity for myself, because I hate pity. But the pain that I feel from our dying acquaintance is stronger and more lethal than any arsenal a teenage boy or my sister could hurt me with.

This is all just a means to an end

But I don’t really wanna talk about it.

Your sweet words will eventually go stale

And when they do

I hope you are ready to finally accept the consequences of your actions.

I traveled in and out of a restless sleep

Fighting to escape my frightening dream

Up and down

In and out

Like a merry go round

I tossed and turned

But could not escape

The hell where I burned

For hurting you that way

In attempts to break free

I grabbed a knife

And stabbed my side repeatedly

As if there’s a part inside I must kill

To be released from this sad state

And if killing that thot is what it will take

Then try to kill it I will

But as I opened my eyes, clutching my side

frantically searching around

I realized, in the end

it was you left on my mind

And no knife could take that out

Because when you tear apart our cells atom by atom

All you will find is the faded remains of our own narcissistic desires

Silly girl, go to sleep

You’ve got unfinished business awaiting in your dreams

Now is not the time to weep

There is too much potential bursting at your seams

But a tired girl will do no good

So get the sleep that you should

Peach juice drips off lips like lovesick poems

Lips that do not know how to kiss

And a kiss planted in the wrong soil

Flowers weeds

Filling up minds and infecting words

Sweet words resonate like church bells on a Friday night

Something is not right

Misplaced fingertips and arms that do not wrap all the way around

Wandering eyes, searching for love, settle on the first thing they see

Is this love or desperation?

8 months since we have really spoken

8 months since I have felt normal talking to you

8 months since you made me genuinely laugh

8 months since we FaceTimed

8 months and a lot has happened

8 months but you were still there

8 months of reminiscing

8 months of girls and boys

8 months of kissing

8 months and everything was on the table

8 months resulting in 4 hours of sleep but I have no regrets

8 months and I remembered why I fell for you

8 months and you still took the words right from my mouth

8 months and you still made me smile and laugh like no one else has for

8 months.