I said goodbye in a gaze thirty-seven degrees away from your eyes on my sockets;
In short words in short sentences:
“We’ll chill, it’ll be cool.”
(my hands dove in my pockets as if it were your cheekbones they were holding)
words full of curdled nectar, fermentation of old pumping blood.

You ironed on a smile that
Saw in my lips those vines you wound about my heart.

Well, that girl and I broke up. We still get along. It's weird not touching or kissing, but we'll get used to it. Yesterday she hung out with her ex and I couldn't take it and she said that maybe it wouldn't work and I agreed. But she wants to keep it open, and I tried to break it more cleanly.

I believe we shall still be best friends.

I smiled, the desperation slithering through my bicuspids like muck and nuclear waste, filling my face with that stomach-turning expression of need, "Come to prom with me," I tried to keep the pleading to a minimum, "it'll be fun, I swear. It won't even be a date, just the two of us, coming as friends?"

So, I broke up with my girlfriend. It was my fault, and my doing. This is what happened:

Please allow her to concentrate
Just for five minutes please
Allow her to clear her mind of negative thoughts
Block out all things that remind her of me
Please allow her to concentrate
Focus on school and work
I'm sick and tired of seeing her hurt
Allow her to smile her beautiful smile
Let her graduate
She's had a rough year
And I don't want to be the reason
Why she comes back next year