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 alone. 
 So maybe it is hopeless, the way I toss love 
 like confetti and watch it stick to the backs 
 of strangers. Everything ends before anything 
 begins and I am still holding the weight of it all 
 in the crease of my elbow. I am tired 
 of accepting all of the responsibility. 
 I am tired of making all of the effort. 
 I am tired of the other boys and the other girls 
 and writing poems about spinelessness and slow dancing alone. 
 I want to remove every part of my body that you have touched 
 but mostly my memory. 
One day I will be so in love with myself that nothing else will be important and I will still wonder if it is cold where you are.


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