On some nights I miss you so much I want 
 to perform a lobotomy on myself. Remove 
 the image of your shoulders against his 
 from where it is lodged inside of me, burn 
 all your pretty words from my frontal lobe 
 so that the next time I see you, everything 
 will look like static. It is all heartbreak, 
 dragging my quiet body home and trying 
 to remember the last time I felt this alo...

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I’m sorry.
 I’m sorry.
 I’m sorry.
 I’m sorry.
 I’m sorry.
 I’m sorry.
 I’m sorry.
 I’m sorry.
 These
 are for
 the promises
 that were broken,
 and for
 all the days
 that I
 could never
 take back.
 These
 are for
 the woman
 who put
 her faith
 and trust
 in me,
 and for what I
 put her through.
 Had I loved you gently,
 perhaps,
 these letters
 would’ve been
 writ...

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I normally don’t take pictures; I used to have about ten or so on my phone’s camera roll on any given day. Mostly random screenshots, one of me and my dog, another of my car when I first bought it.
 
But for some reason, I love taking pictures of her. I find delight in capturing her off-guard–when she’s in mid-laugh, when she’s looking at something she finds truly beautiful, when she’s looking a...

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