torn pages, worn places-collab

dear cal,

today i woke up and i decided no one was real. my mother is air. my father was just a fairy tale. and you, you are just gone. if you told me you loved me, i'd tell you i spent an hour and a half washing dishes yesterday. i'd tell you sometimes when i drive, i close my eyes and envision that our cars crash. i'd tell you sometimes when i lie in bed, i feel the collision. i'd tell you i love you, too but that with us, there are just too many "but"s.

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dear autumn,

i decided that i am nothing but a reduction in the making. today, i am a heart, but tomorrow i will be reduced to lust. today, i have a soul, but tomorrow i will be a pile of bones and skin. so believe me when i say that i love you, but i am scared that tomorrow my love will not be the love i have polished to give to you. you say that we are a carcrash, beautiful, but i can’t help but feel that for all of our flames and sparking metal, we’ve just been reduced to a two-hour traffic jam.

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dear cal,

but i think a traffic jam is a compliment. i think it's a lie. we are not too many vehicles; we are not enough. the vacant parking lots are our empty eyes, our empty thoughts. i want you to kick me. i want you to scream at me. i want us to bicker. i want to know that there's still at least something there that we can fight over or about.


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dear autumn,

i tried to scream but my lungs gave out, i tried to kick but my legs splintered. i am a nothing, nothing you deserve and nothing you don’t. i am the space between your teeth, the pause between your words, a broken chorus, a strung together promise. i’d fight with you, but i have nothing to contribute. we’d just be fighting over you and that’s one thing i can’t stand to break.

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dear cal,

but you probably weren't kicking hard enough. you probably weren't screaming loud enough. i love you, but i don't even know you. i love you but you don't even know me. i love you, but you couldn't understand it. i love you, but i don't understand it. i love you but you're just a ghost. you aren't real. 


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dear autumn,

i think i am kicking too hard, screaming too loud, loving too much. i am fashioning you with half of your reality and half of my wish. you have green eyes when i look at you and brown when i don’t. you’re perfect when i hold you and flawed when i drop you. and i am nothing, i’m a regret, a ripped-up-answer, a mistake. and we, we never were at all. so, darling, i love you but-