Pieces of Me: Everything Reminds Me of You

There's a piece of me I left in your bed along with the dirty socks and bare skin.
A piece I exfoliated in the shower. The skin in the razor. Blood stains on your jeans. A piece chopped off along with my red hair.
(You liked my long hair.)
An innocence I left at the beach along with simple sandcastles and salty eyes.
A piece left in Key West along with my favorite pair of flip flops. (We could never sustain a relationship for long. We're too different. You like dry heat.)
You can find pieces of me in the purple sidewalk chalk.
Purple was my favorite color before black became so damn alluring. (You're so damn alluring.)
Sore arms and sunburnt shoulders.
Baby fat lost along the boulevard of broken dreams.

You write me letters. You tell me they're letters to a girl you love. You tell me you thought of me every day since last summer. You tell me you're happy that we lost it together. Only to tell me that you don't think of me as anything more than a friend. You tell me we should just be friends. So I don't get hurt. So I'm not sad you lead on other girls. So I'm not sad.

Well shit I'm already sad.

There's a piece of me I lost the first time we kissed in your grandma's basement. I tried to get it back yesterday, but sitting on the same couch, I realized I am not the same person I was two years ago.

There's a piece of me that broke yesterday. You keep breaking pieces of me until there's nothing left untouched. And I don't care if you're reading this. And I don't care if you feel guilty. You break me. You snap my bones as easily as toothpicks. As if you like hearing me curse you under my breath as proof of the pain. You're a goddamned sadist.

I've liked you since sophomore year. And I don't care if "like" is a stupid verb. While "like" is stupid, "love" is scary.

There's a piece of me that faded with my first hickey.
In the pen drawings my mom could never scrub off the backseat.
A piece that left along with my hearing as a side effect of the loud music we used to medicate our thoughts.
In the first time I stole my parents' car.

The years in between the first time I skipped lunch and the first time I ate it at school. Sophomore year, I ate it with you. I wanted to seem "normal." So I bought the sandwich but I never finished it.

In the first lie I ever told.
The time I took two stickers instead of one at the end of class. The accompanying guilt. Returned the second sticker to the teacher the next day.
The first time I heard the word "suicide."
The first time I contemplated suicide at twelve years old. (It was before I met you.)

There's a lost piece when I left in the middle of third period today because I couldn't take the noise any longer. (And you sucked at comforting me and that's a fact.)

A piece with the first boy that called me fat in third grade.
My first stretch mark. My first stretch mark in weight restoration.
The first boy that called me beautiful and meant it.

(When's the last time you called me pretty instead of other girls ugly? When's the last time you called me attractive while you complimented all these other girls instead?)

There's a piece that broke when you cheated on me with my old best friend.
(I was never good at these on-again, off-again relationships. I just crave some fucking consistency.)

The first time I was diagnosed with depression.
The first time I was medicated.
The first time I was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder.
My first migraine.
The first time I purged. My friend taught me.
My first
My first
My first.

Are there any pieces of me left?

This isn't a love story. Not really.

This is a fucking rant.