today the voices in my head were worse than usual: they kept whispering your name
1. your lips used to trace constellations out on my skin like i was the milky way and you were a stargazer who couldn't get enough, but i guess that eventually you got so sick of space you decided to put some between us.
2. you painted daisies on my wrist and planted roses inside my rib cage and then you told me that you don't like flowers because they die too fast.
3. last night i opened up my heart and dumped out the contents to look for you but all i found was an empty feeling and a bottle of vodka.
4. you were burning me up with lighters and matches and kisses but i still bathed in gasoline because you said you liked the way it smelled.
5. a couple months after you left me, i walked into the street during a thunderstorm and screamed at the sky. i wanted to get struck by lightening because maybe then i could remember what it felt like to kiss you.
