Dear you,

I wish there was a collaboration of words to express the guilt, anger, and relief I feel. It's ironic though, because six months ago I had a universe stored inside me. Alas, I have cried the rivers in my bones and oceans in my eyes dry. The volcanoes in my chest erupted when you told me you don't love me anymore and the lava flooded my body and hardened until I stopped sleeping. I had stars in my lungs but I burned them out with the cigarettes I was smoking to get you the fuck out of my throat. The flowers that grew in the bottoms of my stomach are dead, apparently you cant water flowers with vodka. I had the skies in my veins, but its been pretty fucking stormy since I ripped them all open. I had planets, on the tip of my tongue, but the debris from the remains of “us” have been crashing into them, and now the are nothing more than rocks burning up in the atmosphere. I was everything. And then I met you, and WE were everything. And now you're with some blonde, and I'm a fucking mess.

Best Wishes,

Me.