2-8-16
It took you thirty one days,
Thirty one sets of twenty four hours
Of laying in bed, not showering,
And barely eating.

Thirty one days
To forget the way she touched you.

You're lying underneath the skeleton-like bare trees,
Resting all of your weight on thick sheets of ice.

Thirty one days
To forget her pale lips.

The sky is pink and hazy,
Sunlight a distant memory.

Thirty one days to forget
Dancing to Boys Like Girls on those kitchen tiles.

Your fingertips and knuckles go purple,
But nothing reaches the cold inside of you.

Thirty one days
To understand that she doesn't make the world go round.

But she's tattooed herself into your broken cardboard box of memories.

And maybe thirty one days wasn't quite enough,
You think to yourself as the snow seeps through your layers of clothing.

You close your eyes slowly and promise yourself you're done crying,
That,
Not here, not now, not tomorrow, not ever,
Will you cry about her again.

It seems you've learned from the best at how to break promises...
- (m.m)

I love getting huge inspiration from photography, it's so fun.