his injuries were bewitching. 

the way the Violet bruise spread across his eye,

the way he wiped the blood off his

cheekbone with the sleeve of his jacket. 

there's nothing more attractive to me than

a strong, broken boy, and that's the truth. 

the way he went about his conversations,

the way he strode forward...

it was enough to make me feel as if

i was cured of any and all diseases.

when his calloused fingers slid across

my arm and down my hand, it felt like

I was in the presence of god himself.

the night he left out my bedroom window,

the sun had been hiding behind the purple clouds

just like how my heart had been running

further and further away from my brain. 

the first time he yelled at me,

shaking with fury, the sobs took control

of my body the same way

the ocean takes control of the sand. 

and the next day

it was as if nothing had happened at all. 

we kept blooming,

like two flowers from the same bouquet,

until the rabbit that is life would come

and nibble on us until there was nothing left. 

up and down,

up and down we went.

going from love to hate

the same way life turns to death

and turns to life which turns back

to death all over again.

and then she came along. 

I don't blame him for falling in love with her.

anyone with a heart would.

she was beautiful,

a goddess in her own right.

and I guess he thought

he could be her Hades.

he shattered my heart and

crunched on the pieces with his shoe

the day he told me he was

leaving whatever it was that we had.

we were never officially "dating,"

after all.

he never told me,

but I knew it was because of her. 

now he's at Lakeview,

having to get drunk and sneak out

of a rehabilitation center

instead of his house. 

now it's Saturday and I'm stuck at home,

trying not to think of how

I loved the boy with black holes for eyes.