A long time ago i wrote poems about her. I kissed the night away drunk on lust, her chipped black nail polish and self inflicted scars from cutting. It kept me up most nights. We lied to our friends. We lied to ourselves. I thought youd fade away. But youre a tricky ghost. There were only a few drops left of you in my blood when i had that dream. You know the one about tornadoes, the plane crash, the feeling of falling. Fuck you, i didnt die. You still have those scars. I still have my blood.