“I don’t think we’re in love anymore.
I think about sex constantly.
I hate your parents. I’m pretty sure they hate me.
Do you have any idea how fucked up this is?
I’ve been sleeping with my back to you for months now,
and you haven’t touched me once.
I almost went home with the guy who gave me change
at the bank. I almost asked his name.
I don’t think we’re in love anymore.
We don’t kiss like we used to. Your lips are always
cold and mine are always chapped.
Neither of us even apologize.
I haven’t shaved in days and you haven’t noticed.
I am insatiable.
I am a disaster just waiting to remember
the storm in her bones.
I am proud of this.
I want someone to fuck me so hard
that something inside of me snaps
and I can’t stop screaming ‘I love you, oh my God, I love you.’
I don’t think we’re in love anymore.
Sometimes, I genuinely think the sky is bleeding, and I don’t
know how to stop it.
I don’t think I am capable of staying put.
My bags are already packed. I’ve been waiting for you
to check the bedroom.
I don’t think we’re in love anymore.
I don’t know whose fault it is.
Let’s stop trying to make a broken thing work.
We were brave for trying.
We were brave for trying.”

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