July 17, 2015 - 10:45
I sneak back in through the back door. Little do you know I've been in the hotel room of a boy who's running through my veins like poison. We smoked and he played guitar and sang The 1975 while I wrote poetry all night. I fell in love with him so hard.

He broke my heart. Months later, he haunted me, and I missed his messy brown hair and bloodshot green eyes in the dawn light. An aching in my chest was enough to kill me. But I was still reminded every day that I am alive- by the air filling my lungs and by my eyes rolling around the world, studying it. Surely, I must have more purpose than just realizing I am alive after him.

A year later and feelings don't fade. Life has become like a metaphorical rainy day for me. I am used to looking in the mirror and lifting my shirt to see my ribcage and the scars that I haven't created in about three weeks. I needed to be clean. This is the first step. So that day I ate three full meals, and I knew that hurting myself to catch feeling or emotions at all was a dangerous game.

I watched color flood back into my cheek bones over time. I continued to write poetry, as it was better than any medication anyone had to offer.

I saw you on the street today with another girl and I smiled. You were happy. I waved and you seemed dazed a bit before you waved back. You crossed the street, her hands fitting perfectly into the spaces between your fingers. Mine were always too thin, small, and fragile compared to your strong ones.

A year and a half after the day you walked out on me, and I bought a pack of cigarettes, I wrote your name on the front of it and took the cigarettes out it and chucked the empty carton into the river.

"Fuck you" I laugh.

A boy with crystal blue eyes the color of the sky and hair as brown as yours but strangely, nothing about him made me think of you.

"Not a smoker?" he questioned.

I laughed and said, "Opposite. I'm not a broken mess.. Anymore, that is. That was me declaring that life exists after him."

"You're something.."

I smile and the dimples in his cheeks and the depth to his eyes seem to swallow me whole.

"I want to prove to you that I am your life after him. It's crazy but something urged me to approach you."

"Then prove yourself" I say, skeptical of his cheesiness as I cross my arms in front of me, an amused smile plastered across my face.

He grabs my hand and takes me to an area underneath this giant tree. He opens a notebook and talks poetry with me. His eyes light up like a Christmas tree. I love him. I have no idea how I can tell right now but I just know. And it's not in a toxic way either.

"I hate to interrupt you but do you even know how beautiful you are with words?"

He blushes and I press my cigarette lips to his pale, pink lips and I know that I can never get enough of him.

Life exists after heartbreak and angst. Keep holding on. I love you.

- (m.m)