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7.8k · Dec 2014
Puzzles
Adrianna Aarons Dec 2014
You can look at a puzzle
for hours and hours
and try to fit the pieces together
the way they should be,
but then you're gonna see a space
smack dab in the middle,
and you won't be able to find the piece
to complete the picture.
You and I have all the pieces,
we just chose the wrong time
to figure out the puzzle.
Adrianna Aarons Dec 2014
you don’t deserve to be here. you’re not crazy, your heart is just shattered to pieces far too small to put together again. i’m sorry.
4.3k · Jan 2017
Dear Gentleman
Adrianna Aarons Jan 2017
You are too old for your looks, dear gentleman
Dear gentleman, you are much too spry
You jump like a wallaby, dear gentleman
And you run much faster than I

When I am snoozing, dear gentleman
You wake me up,
Because you’re hungry for food
Dear gentleman, I was sleeping
I find this, at times, very rude

Dear gentleman, you don’t go outdoors very much
You always stay inside
Watching the birds taunting you
This really must hurt your pride

When I leave the house, dear gentleman
You stay standing guard
Dear gentleman, I must praise you
For this job must be very hard

Dear gentleman, you don’t speak English
You speak some foreign tongue
I cannot understand you, dear gentleman
I can’t decode the songs you’ve sung

Dear gentleman, I must thank you
For you a such a good friend
You and I, dear gentleman
What a pleasant blend!
3.7k · Dec 2014
Everybody Knows Depression
Adrianna Aarons Dec 2014
Everyone talks about depression as if they know it.  
But what they don’t know
is that depression is a hooded figure standing just outside of a wooden doorway,
it’s feeling the blood dripping down your skin and having the sick thought of
“Oh, look how beautiful the red is”
Depression is lying on your bed for hours on end,
salt tracks lining your face like the scars on your ankles,
staring at your ceiling
tracing patterns in the paint and accepting death in life with this hole in your chest
because death is a reward,
an escape from this pain you deserve to feel.
Depression is writing sick poetry on skin and publishing it with scars,
cutting on ankles,
not wrists
because you’re scared you’ll get in trouble
but you so desperately need to be seen,
and never are.
Depression is writing the word “alone”
and seeing the word
“home”,
accepting the pain like a gift because you deserve it.
Depression is admitting suicidal thoughts to paper and not to people,
and loving the broken things,
hoping to tie them together,
thinking maybe things will get better,
but knowing that’s just wishful thinking.
Depression is hearing your mother call you monster and disgusting
through the too-thin walls of your door
when she thinks you can’t hear,
and then telling you to your face that you have no right to cry,
as if sadness is a privilege and you’re so pathetic that you don’t deserve it.
Depression is shutting yourself up in your room
and hearing your family laughing downstairs
because you feel like you can’t be a part of them
and learning at a young age to love family always
but that family isn’t always love
Depression is wanting to take
love and your heart
and break them into tiny little pieces and throw them into waves,
to throw them away
Depression is a foot when the shoe hasn’t been broken in yet,
is when you haven’t broken life in,
is seeing happy people and thinking they all look the same,
like the front covers of magazines
with smiles reaching their eyes when yours can’t.
Depression is wishing you could package your smiles
into tiny little piles and hand them to people more deserving of them
because you know you’re wasting them with half-assed lines of
“I’m fine.”
Depression is having to view your past
as if it wasn’t yours.
Depression is a hooded figure standing just outside
of a wooden doorway
and when you close the door out of fear
it keeps pounding,
possessive,
******,
and when you open the door out of anger you shout,
“I’M SCARED”
to thin air
but your voice comes out as a whisper.
Adrianna Aarons Dec 2014
If I could send a message in a bottle
Of every thought I’ve ever thought of you
It’d take a million years for you to read it
I bet I’d leave you speechless
Because I know that you’ve never doubted
Any love that’s true

If I could sail the ocean on a sailboat
I’d search around the world for you, my dear
I would even stop for a moment
Because you’re my one and only
And nothing would mean more to me
Than having you right here

I have this funny feeling that you’re waiting
Praying every night I’ll come around
Take you in my arms and give you comfort
Even though I was hurt
Because you took my heart into the air
And then dropped it to the ground

I wish that I would find you on an island
With nothing of your own but a cigarette
All alone and talking to no one
I will be your someone
Because I loved you at the darkest times
Just like the day we met
2.2k · Feb 2015
A Nasty Habit
Adrianna Aarons Feb 2015
I wish you'd develop and addiction to me
in the same way you're addicted
to your menthols.
1.6k · Jan 2015
Hurricane
Adrianna Aarons Jan 2015
I want his soul to strip down,
completely naked.
I want to see all the scars and imperfections formed inside.
I want to tell him not to be afraid,
but hell,
I’m afraid because I destroy everything I touch.
And what if I actually get a chance to touch his soul,
not just his body;
it’s a make or break situation,
and hell,
when I’m done,
I bet his body will be a hurricane named after me.
1.3k · Dec 2014
Recovery
Adrianna Aarons Dec 2014
I think back to when everything was simple,
when he was alive and we were all whole
but then he broke us and we never fit back together.
Life used to be carefree
tentative smiles and excitement over coffee shops
and we all had so much potential
and drugs were the plastic bottles in our bathrooms,
taken with caution.
I think of how many friends I used to have,
and how everything has been superficial
since we all put ourselves in plastic boxes on unreachable shelves.
These days I have no motivation and I want to see the sun.
Happiness is as fleeting as the snow on the ground
before the wind sweeps it up high above the trees.
I used to be the snow, and I didn't care where I landed.
That's why I wasn't very surprised
when he took advantage of my innocence and unstable hold on reality.
But that doesn't mean that sometimes I don't still shudder
when people come near me,
or wonder if I look broken to them.
I remember his eyes,
innocent,
as they ask for forgiveness,
and I didn't have the heart to tell him
that he had taken the last thing that meant anything to me,
or that he was the last straw when I made that fateful decision last year,
or that I STILL wake up gasping from having nightmares starring him,
or that he causes me to stay up late into the night feeling completely alone.
That he stole my already feeble ability to say
"no."
But I'm wiser now,
so I forgave him even though his arms felt like needle ****** when he hugged me.
Recovery is long,
and some might say I'm not recovered at all.
It's been a year but I still think about death every day.
I'm in love, but I hate myself every second I'm not with him.
But none of that matters,
because now I know that I will always choose pain over oblivion.
I've found a delicate balance that can be destroyed by one gust of wind,
but I'm trying to be better,
and that's more than I've ever been able to say.
I don't want to say that a song saved my life
but the song is his voice when he tells me he loves me,
and the screams in my head when I don't want to continue,
because at least I know I'm alive.
Sometimes I miss the people who have left me and the girl I used to be,
but it's over now,
and it's best not to dwell on things that I can never change.
Because recovery isn't the number of days passed,
but allowing time to heal you.
It's allowing yourself to feel better,
because only you can give yourself that permission.
It's learning to love yourself,
and to accept everything in stride.
But most of all,
recovery is forgiveness.
Forgiving others for what they've done to you,
but more importantly yourself,
in any condition,
the way the shore forgives the tide
which leaves
but always comes back for more,
because the ocean loves the sand more than we can comprehend,
and that's how we should all love ourselves:
unconditionally and during all weather.
1.2k · Dec 2014
Breathe
Adrianna Aarons Dec 2014
She seemed so distantly broken.
Haunted shadows lurk in dark corners,
waiting for the slight curve of her smile,
the first sign of happiness,
to attack.
Crashing her world down around her,
I offer my hand to pull her out
of the familiar rubble,
scooping her up in my arms,
searching for safe ground
where the suicide bombers of depression
won’t be able to touch her.
Fear raged through her body
like fever and overdose.
Worlds spinning circles,
colors blurring
and behind
hazy eyes
shallow breaths.
Sticking graves into the tortured hollows
of the chambers of the heart.
She is limb against my body
and I know that standing will not
be easy,
but I am strong enough for you
to lean on.
The backbone that will keep you upright,
for I am one of the few
parts of yourself that you love,
and I have never needed you more.
A screaming ambulance arrives
and paramedics flushing
your veins full of
IV bags with hope.
Clearing the poison of your system left behind
by the touch of demons
who have been haunting you for five years.
But I have known you my entire life.
Small girl, curly hair,
chipped nail polish,
black eye makeup.
I can instantly recognize you
as myself.
Brought together by chance,
in a classroom used as a safety base
for life’s game of tag that kept hitting us.
About ready to quit,
we were offered the chance
to love ourselves and eachother.
And through that discovery, this game
became so much easier to play
once we can double team it.
Quickly developed a love
you do not find in romantic relationships.
A comfort that lies solely in the unbreakable
bond of twins.
Spilled secrets
over steaming mugs
of raspberry tea.
Late night talks and comfort food binges.
We no longer had to speak.
We told stories with our eyes,
and painted murals with mascara tracks,
and crimson tears washed down the drains
from our thighs.
Our weakest moments hitting carefully.
No shorts.
No skirts.
No dresses.
The truth kept behind stained bandages
tucked away in bottom drawers
quietly stuffing our ***** secrets into our laundry.
Red lipstick hearts
on mirrors and
X’s on the backs of our hands,
marking us discounted;
damaged goods.
Returned over
and over again
until insecurity was definite and hope
was a far off dream so
we stretched our clipped wings,
no longer able to fly so we
simply had to learn how to break
the falls.
So we tightened the screws on pencil sharpeners
so the blade couldn’t be extracted in a moment of
weakness,
then poured our heart and souls
into glasses and toasted to our futures.
I want to wrap you in laughter
and sing to you the soundtrack of
the best memories that we had.
You deserve this happiness
and tonight
you are alive
and you are beautiful
even if you don’t want to be.
So take my hand
and close your eyes.
Just listen.
I love you,
just breathe.
1.1k · Jan 2017
Fists and Metaphors
Adrianna Aarons Jan 2017
Your heart is the same shape and size
as a fist
But don’t use it like one
because hearts
they aren’t metaphors like a fist
they cannot be healed with stitches and a band-aid
The ability to touch does not mean the ability to feel
and waiting for your heart to heal
it’s a hell of a lot more than antiseptic
My fury for you
I threw some punches
I tried to break open that prison that holds your heart captive
but I guess my voice just wasn’t the right frequency because it’s still in tact
and yes,
when the world went quiet for a moment
I could hear the gears of the universe turning inside of you and I loved the sound of it
but that’s my fault
You told me I was too young and I don’t see the way that the real world works
and that’s because I view the world in metaphors but life
is not poetry
I knew the woman at the beauty supply store had never had her heart broken
when she kicked me out of the hair isle for slathering shampoo on my chest
because I was hoping the suds would seep in through my skin and
find their way to my heart
The label on the bottle read anti-breakage
I just couldn’t resist to try
The librarian was confused when I returned the dictionary that smelled like peroxide and was covered in band-aids
Maybe she had never been hurt by words or maybe
life is not poetry
I told you that kissing you was like waking up right before seeing the sun rise
after the apocalypse
You didn’t understand
I told you that I wanted to string the stars from your bedroom ceiling so you would always have something to count on and again you didn’t understand
I told you my heart was a quilt of mixed-matched fabric with flaws and failures crudely sewn together with good intentions
You still didn’t understand even though our internal wounds are stitched up using the same thread
Because life is not poetry
Life is real and I am so **** good at letting people love me
it scared me to see my joy sitting in your hands
slipping through the creases of your fingers like sand
I stopped saying your name when it started sounding real to me
So I guess this is how it ends
With the realization that I could shatter and leave my broken pieces under your pillow
and you still would not dream of me
So don’t
use your heart like a fist
because life is not poetry
I am not a metaphor
I’m not a phrase
an expression or an exclamation
I’m not a simile and I’m certainly not a hyperbole
But I’d rather have ink on my hands than blood
1.0k · Feb 2017
CN
Adrianna Aarons Feb 2017
CN
You are cancer cells and
Broken bones and
Shards of glass and
A burnt down home, you
Drowned me out so I couldn't breathe, you
Pulled the rug from right under me, but
I found a life raft out at sea and
Saved myself from everything
944 · Jan 2017
Untitled
Adrianna Aarons Jan 2017
I don’t get to write sad poetry anymore
Not when you nested between my ribs like a second heart,
beating an orchestra,
a whole concerto against my skin.
There’s gentle fingers on my scraped knees,
they don’t feel so painful anymore.
937 · Jan 2015
Shots
Adrianna Aarons Jan 2015
These shots of *****
don't make me feel nearly as warm
as being wrapped in your arms.
937 · Dec 2014
3:02am
Adrianna Aarons Dec 2014
They say high school is supposed to be the best four years of your life,
When you make memories that last a lifetime.
You know, something like high school musical.

Somebody forgot to mention that it doesn’t apply to those who don’t meet a certain criteria.
You must be this athletic, this smart, this talented, and this attractive to enjoy your ride for the next four years.

When I found out I didn’t qualify for any of the above I was already buckled in and already making my way up the hill,
And when on my way down, I wasn’t prepared for the twists and turns that were up ahead.

Self-discovery is a beautiful thing unless you’re surrounded by people who already figured out who they are
And aren’t capable of understanding that everyone else’s tracks are different
And through my journey friends came and went,
Cause I didn’t think like other girls did
I racked by brain trying to thinking about what I was doing wrong.

When the track got bumpy all the people that I loved had left me
And I was left to rebuild whatever was left of my crumbling state of mind
And I dug through the foundation to design a new self-image to try and save what was left of my confidence.


And I finally listening to that nagging voice in the back of my head
That when I looked down at my chest I was uncomfortable with what I saw
And when I looked in the mirror I wanted so badly to shed this skin I was in,
And the dysphoria was already beginning to settle in.

I was in a fork in the rode where I had to decide if I wanted to keep living a lie or realize this is not the real me.
906 · Jan 2017
Past / Present / Future
Adrianna Aarons Jan 2017
Dear three year old me
It isn’t that your daddy doesn’t want you, he just wants to drink more
This is not your fault, and it is not your mom’s fault either
Your daddy will regret his priorities someday, rest assured.

Dear ten year old me
Mom's new boyfriend doesn't have a bad side, quit waiting for him to leave
He is not going to
He loves you and this family

Dear fifteen year old me
When your boyfriend screams at you for the first time, get out of there
He is lying every time he says “I love you”
Do not stay with him, it will not get better

Dear eighteen year old me
Love is not found on the couches of cigarette stained strangers
He only wants one thing and you know it
You're better than this

Dear twenty year old me
We’ve really been through it this year huh?
All those little worries from your earlier years seem so irrelevant now

Dear twenty five year old me
I hope we make it
820 · Dec 2014
Trophy Father
Adrianna Aarons Dec 2014
The last time that I saw you,
you were being pulled through the front door by police officers.
I was holding my baby sister in
my arms and shielding her face
so she couldn’t see you reach for the beer bottle
sitting on the table in between
the entryway and your rocking chair.
You were being arrested but all you could think about
was taking
One last drink.
Not looking at your wife,
not looking at your eight and three-year-old daughters,
but looking at a half-empty beer bottle.

Now, honestly, do you still think of yourself as my dad?
Because if you do, let me ask you this.
Wouldn’t a father be there and support his kids?
Wouldn’t he be there to make sure her boyfriend gets her home
before curfew?
Or help his 10 year old with math homework?
(Although if you were here you'd know she's outstanding at it)
I mean, maybe that’s just me wishing I had a positive father
figure in my life,
but really, wouldn’t a real man try and step up for his kids?

How often have you pulled out your wallet
to show your co-workers
my second grade school pictures,
and my sister’s pre-school portrait?
And when they say,
“Oh, what cute little girls you have,”
what is your reaction?
Do you say, “Actually, these pictures are eight years old.
I haven’t seen my kids since I was being arrested.”

You’d think a father—
someone who’s supposed to care about you—
would be there
to get to know the children
that he took the time to create.
But instead, you’re spending your nights
with a TV dinner and a bottle of Sam Adams.
Obviously my memories with you are jagged scars.
I remember sitting in your lap
and holding your Bud Light
while you changed the TV channel from cartoons to sports.
I remember you throwing over the coffee table
and watching glass shatter on the floor
while yelling at me
because I accidentally spilled apple juice.
I remember crying in pain
because a girl in my tap class
stepped on my fingers,
and when you covered my mouth with your
cigarette stained hand
so my cries were muffled.
I also remember getting my first bruise.
I watched small and medium sized bruises form
on my arms and ribcage.
I asked my mom what they were and
if I was going to be okay.
I remember you arguing and defending your actions,
screaming that
‘you had a reason to hit me and kick me down a flight of stairs,’
in her face with a bottle of Budweiser in one hand
and the other around her throat.

You didn’t think I’d remember all that, did you?
You thought I would only remember the good things
that are obviously outweighed by the bad.
You didn’t think I would remember things that happened eight years ago.

Fortunately,
Allison had the pleasure of only seeing the end of it.
Yes, she grew up without a father a majority of her life,
but at least I had her face covered
from physically seeing you choose alcohol
over your family.

You need to know
that I don’t consider you my dad at all anymore.
I shouldn’t have to be the one to tell you
that you’re the one who messed up.
You should already know that.
Although,
I do need to let you know
that I have a boyfriend who loves me more than you ever did,
and understands why I have a problem with alcohol,
and understands why I sometimes flinch when he raises his hand.
He,
is everything to me.
But you,
are nothing to me.
You need to stop telling me that if
you came back, that we would be a
“happy family again,”
as if we ever were.
If you came back,
I’d have police ready to drag you
through the front door,
but instead of reaching for a beer bottle,
you’d be reaching for your
seventeen and twelve-year daughters.
804 · Jan 2015
Fall Back
Adrianna Aarons Jan 2015
Brown leaves and red leaves
And yellow like your hair
Hugs and secrets and baring our souls
And things we wouldn’t normally share

The air is crisp and cold and mean
Like poisonous darts on my skin
These evils that attack my delicate heart
Are tearing it limb from limb

Let’s fall back to the twenty-third of June
If our sweaty pinkies hugged it out
And promised each other everything
Then what was that all about?

My cheeks are pink and sting from outside
You’d normally pull me in from the cold
Because you were shy and I was shy
But together we were bold

Now you’re out, around and around
Never to return again
Just skipping all over and playing cards
With a redhead named Mary Jane

My favorite cowardly lion has found her courage
And left me to face the fact
She’s gone and left every scar open
With no hope of falling back
750 · Dec 2014
Opposites
Adrianna Aarons Dec 2014
Sunrise & Sunset.
Land & Sea.

Flowers & weeds.
Full & Empty.

Alive & Dead.
Beautiful & Ugly.

Sweet & Bitter.

Poetry & Prose.

You & me.
720 · Dec 2014
The Day I Met Him
Adrianna Aarons Dec 2014
He moseyed on over to me,                                 I
stammered a shy
hello,

He smiled sweetly as my gaze                           fell
to his hands and wrists
where promises might show.

There was something about him,                      in
his eyes I saw something
broken, something dying inside.

I ached to fix him, repair him,                          love
him back to life, bring the fire back
into his eyes, make him mine.

We whispered a promise of forever,                with
his little finger wrapped around
my own.

I meant it, and I never did take                        him
for a liar, so I’m living three hundred
miles away thinking I’m not alone.
717 · Dec 2014
Honest, Dear
Adrianna Aarons Dec 2014
Dear, can I be honest with you?
I just don’t know anymore; I don’t know what to do.
I’ve forgotten how to be the girl everyone needs me to be.
And I don’t know how I got so far away from you.
I just don’t know why you even stuck around or why
You even dared to raise your glass to many more last nights.

Never once in my wildest nightmares did it come to this, but here we are.
Swallowing the water we’re surrounded by and being weighed down.
And the more we try to stay up, the more we drown.
Never once in my greatest daydream did you even stick around, but here you are.
But it’s only a matter of time before you close the door on any chance we had.
But it’s only a matter of time before we go back to being empty and sad.

I long to be near you, just to stand by you.
I’ve said it too many times and you’re probably tired
Of hearing my voice, this sorry broken record.
It all makes sense when I look into your eyes.
Everything falls into place when your baby browns meet mine,
But when I look away, it’s all askew and undefined.

Life has thrown me curveballs I’ve managed to dodge.
I’ll never regret catching you, you random act of God.
You’ve given me hope and found me when I was lost.
You are too good for me and I don’t need to be told twice.
But I need to be around you to keep myself alive, to keep myself up.
The touch of your skin, the sound of your voice, I can’t get enough.

I’m being honest, dear.
675 · Dec 2014
Anxiety Attacks
Adrianna Aarons Dec 2014
It’s all internal now.
You’re in a room.
No door,
no windows—
just four tall,
white walls.
The walls shake uncontrollably,
as if the earth were coming to an end.
What’s happening?
"Walls,
stop shaking,"
you say.
"That’s enough."
You wonder if you’ve ever had any control over the walls at all;
they don’t seem to listen to you.
Shortly,
everything will come tumbling down,
and you can’t do anything about it.
You sit and wait.

Suddenly,
through the nonexistent cracks in the walls,
waves come crashing
over your head and
down to your feet.
If a spark were to touch the water right now,
the room would instantly turn to ashes—
or so it feels.
You close your eyes,
hoping for an escape.
Yet you still know where all the water is,
simply by following the un-ignorable surge
that is felt across your entire body with each ever-growing hit of a wave.

Where are you?
Why don’t the walls break already?
And why aren’t you dead yet?

You open your eyes again
as you jolt awake in the middle of the night.
Your heart is pounding and your hands are trembling.
The beginning of the waves—
you’ve felt them.
666 · Jan 2017
Pretty
Adrianna Aarons Jan 2017
When I was just a little girl,
I asked my mother,
“What will I be?
Will I be pretty?
Will I be pretty?
Will I be pretty?
What comes next?
Oh right, will I be rich?”
Which is almost pretty depending on where you shop.
And the pretty question infects from conception,
passing blood and breath into cells.
The word hangs from our mothers’ hearts
in a shrill fluorescent floodlight of worry.
“Will I be wanted?
Worthy?
Pretty?”
But puberty left me this fun house mirror dryad:
teeth set at science fiction angles,
crooked nose,
face donkey-long
and pox-marked where the hormones went finger-painting.
My poor mother.
“How could this happen?
You’ll have porcelain skin
as soon as we can see a dermatologist.
You ****** your thumb.
That’s why your teeth look like that!
You were hit in the face with a Frisbee when you were 6.
Otherwise your nose would have been just fine!
“Don’t worry.
We’ll get it fixed!”
She would say, grasping my face,
twisting it this way and that,
as if it were a cabbage she might buy.
But this is not about her.
Not her fault.
She, too, was raised to believe the greatest asset
she could bestow upon her awkward little girl was a marketable facade.
By 15, I was pickled with ointments,
medications, peroxides.
Teeth corralled into steel prongs.
My nose was never fixed.
Belly gorged on 2 pints of my blood I had swallowed under anesthesia,
and every convulsive twist of my gut like my body screaming at me from the inside out, “What did you let them do to you!”
All the while this never-ending chorus droning on and on, like the IV needle dripping liquid beauty into my blood. “Will I be pretty? Will I be pretty? Like my mother, unwrapping the gift wrap to reveal the bouquet of daughter her $10,000 bought her? Pretty? Pretty.”
And now, I have not seen my own face for 10 years. I have not seen my own face in 10 years, but this is not about me.
This is about the self-mutilating circus we have painted ourselves clowns in. About women who will prowl 30 stores in 6 malls to find the right cocktail dress, but haven’t a clue where to find fulfillment or how wear joy, wandering through life shackled to a shopping bag, beneath those 2 pretty syllables.
About men wallowing on bar stools, drearily practicing attraction and everyone who will drift home tonight, crest-fallen because not enough strangers found you suitably fuckable.
This, this is about my own some-day daughter. When you approach me, already stung-stayed with insecurity, begging, “Mom, will I be pretty? Will I be pretty?” I will wipe that question from your mouth like cheap lipstick and answer, “No! The word pretty is unworthy of everything you will be, and no child of mine will be contained in five letters.
“You will be pretty intelligent, pretty creative, pretty amazing. But you, will never be merely ‘pretty’.”
659 · Jan 2015
If You Lied
Adrianna Aarons Jan 2015
I know you’re good at lying
You’ve got the lips for spinning webs
One slip of the tongue can build a tower
A tower that we can live in together
We can grow old in the little house of lies
The strong castle you built for me
Sit by the fire, fed by the fairytales you tell
And tell each other more lies all night long
So, lovely liar, would you tell me one lie?
Would you pretty please tell me
That I mean more than anything?
It really would be wonderful if you lied
And told me how much you love me

Don’t lie, you’re good at lying
You know what everyone wants to hear
One or two minutes and you’ve got them smiling,
Even if it isn’t the whole truth and nothing but
You and I could smile for hours, you know
I can tell you what you did to my heart
All the little things that drove me crazy in love
No doubt you’ll smile at that
Then you can lie and say that you love me,
You can lie and tell me how much better
Life got for you once I stepped in
It’d surely make me smile if you lied
And told me how much you love me

No one knows, but I know you’re good at lying
You’ve got the sincerity in your voice for telling tales
One word can build a boat
A boat we can live on together
We can sail the sea of lies on the little rowboat
The indestructible rowboat made of your lies
Sail the seven seas, protected by every little lie
Every single lie you’ve told me
And I won’t mind
If you lied
And told me how much you loved me.If
638 · Dec 2014
11:41pm
Adrianna Aarons Dec 2014
Lord knows
I've fallen into the rusty hidden comfort
of too many mens' arms.

I've found all  the wrong ways of coping,
so what're the right ones?
631 · Jan 2017
haiku
Adrianna Aarons Jan 2017
you remind me that

there is still some beauty left

in this world of mine
630 · Dec 2014
The Other Night
Adrianna Aarons Dec 2014
He said,
“Well maybe I was just a distraction—a temporary happiness.”

I looked up with tears rolling down my cheeks and said,
“No, you were genuine. You're my sun.”
614 · Dec 2014
Song for Her
Adrianna Aarons Dec 2014
Tell the girl with the name
like a bird that you don’t think she’s crazy.
Tell her a boy will write a song
just for her someday.
And if you know he won’t,
if you think she’s insane,
just don’t let her know you think that way.

She’s seen the dark side of the moon,
the pits of hell ablaze, stared darkness
in the face and still stands here today.
Give or take a few things,
she’s still the same as she was three years ago,
so tell her a boy will write a song for her.
Even if you know he won’t.

She needs a lie, an easily-believed
snow-white lie. Tell the girl with the
name like a bird that she looks
beautiful today. That you’re so glad
she’s doing okay. That a boy will write a song
just for her someday. I can almost promise
she’ll believe it.

She’s not easily fooled, but when you’re
empty a little bit of hope can do the job
of getting you filled. So tell her you don’t
think she’s crazy, that the boy she’s been wishing
for all winter will come her way, and he’ll
write a song about being in love with her
someday.
587 · Feb 2015
June's Reveal
Adrianna Aarons Feb 2015
did my promise,
my sincerity,
feel good in your hands?
did it sit well
in your broken heart?

did my desperation,
my lovesickness,
sparkle in your eyes?
did it settle your
twisting stomach?

did my nervousness,
my helplessness,
melt your boarded-up
and frozen, broken heart?
did it make you blush?

did my desperateness,
my constant attempts,
warm your icy soul?
did it taste good
on your sly smile?

even though you’ve
lost another one of
your leads, you still
refuse to play that
you’re in love with me.
576 · Jan 2017
Shut Up
Adrianna Aarons Jan 2017
Sweetheart, shut up for two seconds so I can kiss you.
Let those words that mean so much wait a **** second or two,

See if they can stand the pain of waiting to come across your lips.
I feel like I’ve been waiting much too long for exactly this.

The ache in my core is much too hard to stand anymore.

Sweetheart, just shut the hell up for a moment so I can kiss you.
Leave the singing to the birds, love, let me do what I came here to.

I’d love to be the ink beneath your skin, just because I’d love to know
What it feels like to make you complete, to be a part of you.

There is a pain in my stomach from not being with you.

Sweetheart, please just shut up for a minute and let me kiss you.
Let those rants and raves take a little break and live my dreams with me.

So, God permit, if I shut up for two seconds will you kiss me?
Hold me closer and make me forget that this is reality?

I want to wake up from this lonely dream and find you next to me,
And I will shut up for a minute so you can kiss me.

The ache in my core will turn to clouds and I will soar.
571 · Dec 2014
It Still Hurts
Adrianna Aarons Dec 2014
I’m trying to write this poem but all I can come up with is:

I ******* miss you.
I miss every little thing about you.
I want to go home.
But you were my home.
And you kicked me out.

I’m trying to come up with all the things I’ve been wanting to say to you.


But all I can think about are the tears rolling down my face
And how you used to hold me and kiss my forehead,
Dry my tears with your sleeve,
And tell me everything would be okay again.

I was trying to forget you, so that maybe I could move on.

But then I found our box.
Full of pictures,
Movie tickets,
Love letters,
The “C+A” ceramic slab I made for you last year,
And the letter I wrote to you while I was in the hospital.

I was trying to forget you.

So I taught myself to be numb.
I learned how to shut everything out.
I convinced myself I didn’t care,
Not just about everything around me,
But myself too.

I was trying to apologize.

But you didn’t care.
Nobody cared.
Nobody wanted to listen.
Everyone had already given up on me.

I was trying so hard, and I still am.

But sometimes I wish I could wake up on the day I met you and start all over again.
Other times I wish taking those 15 Tylenol *** had worked.
568 · Jan 2017
Told Me Once
Adrianna Aarons Jan 2017
Love, you told me once that
Butterflies don’t lie
So I knew I was in love
The moment I met your eyes

Love, you told me once that
You can’t solve all my problems
But I knew you were fibbing because
Standing next to you, the hurt is forgotten

Love, you told me once that
You want my arms around you
But I knew you were just kidding because
You were gone before I could hold you

Love, you told me once that
You don’t always think when you talk
So I knew you didn’t want me,
Yet I still sold you my heart.

Love, I’ll tell you once that
I love you so **** much.
Love, I’ll tell you twice,
Three or four times if you want.
565 · Dec 2014
Stay Alone
Adrianna Aarons Dec 2014
I want to be alone but at the same time I don’t.
I remember this feeling.
Seeing all my friends out and having fun,
wishing I could do that too.
Wishing I could be apart of it.
But my brain just panics and says
"No, you have to stay here."
I need to stay here.
I need to stay alone in my room.
I need to stay alone.
562 · Jan 2015
Frozen
Adrianna Aarons Jan 2015
I’ve been driving all night
Over frozen lakes and streams.
Though everything is frozen,
I’m sure you can melt my heart,
Which is racing alongside my mind.
Am I still alive?
Because I’m almost sure I’m dreaming.
Heaven’s about an hour away,
So are your bright blue eyes,
Your smiling face.
My cheeks are red and I wish I’d stop looking
So in love and ridiculous,
But it’s hard to hide the obvious.
Wrap your arm around my shoulders and keep me warm
Because everything outside is frozen.
Lightning is flashing all around us, but I am almost sure
You’ll keep me safe with your bright hazel eyes
And smiling face and heart so warm it’s almost burning.
Do you know that everyone around is staring?
Honestly? You want to know the truth?
They’re all lies, dreams, hallucinations of mine;
I can guarantee they won’t be here long.
Even though I’m not that much to you,
Just a smiling, brown-eyed, truthful ripple in a sea of lies,
I am almost sure negative eight degrees will freeze hell over
Before you recognize my face, know my name,
Look me over with your bright blue eyes, and smiling face
And heart so warm it’s almost burning,
Tonight’s a broken record for my senses.
I can feel your touch, hear your voice, see your bright blue eyes
And smiling face like it was yesterday.
Your heart so warm it’s almost burning
Melting everything outside that’s
Frozen.
557 · Jan 2017
Betting on an Ace of Hearts
Adrianna Aarons Jan 2017
Let’s play a game.
Hey, boy, left of the dealer, deal me some cards,
But take out the jokers because even though I like funny guys,
I don’t wanna be dealt any of your cheap moves.

Instead, deal me the aces.
Deal me the kings, queens, and jacks because
I want the best of what you’ve got.
Even deal me the twos and threes because, honestly,
I want to know what you’re not.

And if you don’t have two of a kind, that’s okay-
I’ll have a match.
We’ll pair up our hearts
Because together we will pump more life into this world.
Share our twos and threes
Because exposing our weaknesses will lead to a stronghold.
Sell our diamonds because
Pretty, petty things will only lead to a belief in the value of fool’s gold.

We’ll de-clare war.
Grab the spades and clubs because love is more than just a game for two.
It is a battlefield.

And by the look in your eyes you’ve been shot by too many queens of hearts with cupid’s arrow.
So show me your scars.
Open heart surgery won’t hurt that much.
C’mon, we’ll play operation.
I’ll be the doctor, and you’ll be the patient.
Hand me the scalpel,
don’t scream now,
I might have forgotten the anesthesia.

But don’t worry,
Laughter is the best medicine.
And I am funny.
Trust me.
Trust me, trust me, trust me.
Open yourself up because this scalpel just isn’t working.

What queen of hearts decided she could steal yours?
Give me a clue.
Was it Mrs. White in the kitchen with the rope?
Mrs. Peacock in the ballroom with the dagger?
It was Mrs. Scarlett in the coat closet?

No, no, no.
Don’t bump me back to start-- I’m sorry.

Our pasts are not taboo.
Every why or what or who has merely been a teetering, tottering
domino set in place along my ribcage.
Waiting for you to tip the first barrier and clear the path to my heart.

We can treat this like a slow game of Jenga.
Building slowly until we run out of blocks and then we’ll stop.
Because taking turns tearing it down can come later.
And by later I mean maybe, hopefully, possibly never.

Or…we could just play Uno.
Tossing all our
matches into a messy pile.
Using our wild cards to avoid drawing anything that might drag us back into the game,
Reverse cards, skip your next turn cards,
It’s all the same.

But that’s okay because I know this game of risk is just a temporary thrill.
It’s the missing first kisses, the oh baby it’s you I can’t resist,
and the oh god my broken heart wants to jump off all of these suicidal bridges.
This game will end.
Because this isn’t love.
It’s really just teenage betting-on-an-ace-of-hearts pretend.
498 · Dec 2014
Untitled
Adrianna Aarons Dec 2014
you see him and think
god,
he is so beautiful
god,
everything about him is just
so
****
perfect.
nothing else matters,
his imperfections—
perfect.
his crooked teeth,
how sometimes he gets one or two
brown hairs on his chin
instead of blonde ones
how he ***** at opening up
how he ***** with giving compliments
none of it matters
because you see it all as perfect
just absolutely
perfect
you start seeing the waves of the ocean
in his diamond eyes
you start seeing flowers grow from
the hair on his chin
the brightness of the sun in his smile
you start to see him as the
most beautiful,
perfect,
human being.
then
you wonder if he was just an angel
and got his wings ripped out
maybe that’s why he’s so scared
of trusting people
of opening up
maybe that’s why he’s
got odd scars on his back
because his wings were
just
ripped right off
490 · Jan 2015
8:23pm
Adrianna Aarons Jan 2015
i stopped looking you in the eyes a while ago.
i hate seeing that there is nothing but emptiness
in the heart that i used to call home.
i hate seeing that you have moved on.
it’s easier to believe
“i love you”
when i don’t have to see how much
lying hurts your soul.
488 · Jan 2017
Prayer to My Beloved
Adrianna Aarons Jan 2017
Beloved, while you’re out searching for your only,
I am here waiting, hurting, cowering, crying and lonely.
There’s a monster under my bed, a devil in my closet,
A goblin sending me through an obstacle course, promising
That if I do all they ask I will make it out alright.
Beloved, I know that they are only telling lies.

Beloved, they’re begging for my secrets,
They want to know why I fell for you so easily, so willingly,
When we all know it’s something so unlike me.
And while they crawled under my skin and broke my will down
Like a tower of blocks, all I longed for was you by my side.
Beloved, I’ve never been so frightened in my life.

Beloved, your shadow won’t do much good here,
But if it’s all I can have of you right now, then I’ll hold it here.
It won’t ward off the monsters, the devils, the demons, or the goblins
And their terrifying ways, but if I hold it close enough to me
I can feel your heartbeat, your breath and lips across my face and I’m okay.
Beloved, I will fight till the death and make myself okay.
482 · Feb 2015
Hell's Blue Fires
Adrianna Aarons Feb 2015
Dear, when June kisses me Hello
the way you never did

and the temperature outside
hits one hundred and five,
I will think of the way I’m feeling
right now to cool myself down.

Because not since last year
have I felt so deeply chilled.

My bones are made of ice,
my eyes are snow, my heart
needs thawing. And if you don’t
warm it, oh well,

I’ll just stay frozen solid
till I drop dead and melt in hell.

They think I’m mad, I’m
crazy broken, but they just don’t know
what it’s like when someone
so wonderful has you hoping.

Even when my hopes
are defeated,

shot down
after flying so high,
I’ll force myself
to keep believing.
472 · Dec 2014
Do You Remember?
Adrianna Aarons Dec 2014
Do you remember those nights we used to share,
when the sunrise was our reminder
that it was getting a little too late.
And when you'd look at me and tell me
"you have so much to live for. and I love you."
And how we would hold hands all the time,
like a thousand earthquakes
and the wrath of God himself couldn't separate us.
Do you remember how we'd sing songs in your car,
like the summer breeze was a melody,
and it was our mission to sing it,
and the way we would finish each other's sentences by accident?
How I would stay up late writing about the stars I found in your eyes,
and the heaven in your hands,
because nobody had a way with words like you did,
and whether you admit it or not you knew your way around the pen pretty **** well.
And those fights we got in,
those glorious fights,
when we'd swear to god we hated each other
but we both knew we only wanted to be loved just a little bit more.
And how we fell in love so young,
and it was like water into wine,
from daylight kisses to hands on thighs,
and they always warn me about it
but I’d just say ***** it,
we're young because teenagers have a way to find such beauty in naivety.
Do you remember that day I walked through the rain,
and although it felt like a ******* hurricane
your touch warmed me up like a cup of hot chocolate on a snowy day,
and we'd always joke how I couldn't run a mile
but when it was to see your face
we both knew I could walk a hundred.
And we can't forget the first time we saw Marina & the Diamonds,
and we sang every word,
and you seemed scared to sing along
but I’d look over and see how into it you were.
I knew that once you spread your wings there was no way to stop you,
and you came running back to me with the biggest smile on your face
and I knew it'd be one of those moments we'd never forget.
And then there was that day
when I messed up and the scars on my legs
bled worse than they ever have before,
and you could have left me out to sting
but you opened your arms and held me and said
"it's gonna be okay.”
And you just held me.
And I know I bring it up all the time,
but you can't tell me you've forgotten the night we fell in love,
and my nervous hands were shaking
It was one of those moments that people sing songs about
because it only happens once in a lifetime,
and I still remember.
We’d walk under the night sky together.
And when we laid down into the grass,
we didn't even exchange a look;
it was like the stars guided us into each other's arms
and when our eyes met we lowered our walls
and all those years we'd been beaten down from the inside out disappeared,
and there was threat of an invasion,
that was clear,
but it was worth the risk.
And the second our lips touched,
it was like we were thrown into sea together,
left to fend for ourselves.
Us against the world.
Together.
And I'll always remember how we had to run back to your mom's car,
because we'd lost track of time looking at the stars,
and that ride home was the best of our young lives.
And I know we drifted,
and I learned how to be a **** up,
but you've always been able to read in between my lines,
and on the nights where there's nothing separating me between sleeping and siren lights,
I know that I'm a phone call away from my first love.
And looking back someday,
I hope you remember me not as
"that girl you were with for 16 months"
or the girl who took your virginity,
but "that kid who loved you with her entire heart."
And who still does.
462 · Dec 2014
Thinking Now
Adrianna Aarons Dec 2014
I’ve been thinking about the first time I laid eyes on you,
I’ve been thinking about you way too much lately, if you ask me.
You don’t need someone like me,

You don’t need a weight to hold you down while you run from
The east coast to the west coast to north to south,
Waiting for you to return to me.

I will fight to be yours until my very, very last exhale,
Don’t doubt my feelings, darling, because they are much too real.

I’ve been craving those butterflies that bounced off the knot in my stomach
That very day when you smiled at me from underneath a halo of blue,
That very day when your eyes fell upon me and I caught my breath,
When you waved, smiled, sang, smiled, smirked for us all to see.

They’ve been telling me to take a breath between words, between thoughts,
I can’t get ’em down on paper quick enough.

I want to remember every little jump my stomach made
At the touch of your skin, at the sound of your name.
Oh, but now I’m thinking I should take a breath, before I lose it all.

Now I’m thinking, clear as I possibly can
With all those thoughts of you in my head,
That I should give everyone a break
From all the blushing and babbling about

You.
Wonderful, glorious, divine, enchanting, entrancing
You.

Hey, I said I’d give it a break,
But if I stop completely I may
Go even more insane.
456 · Jan 2017
Wildest Dream
Adrianna Aarons Jan 2017
I want to know how to be
everything you need.
Teach me how to be
the reflection of your dreams.
I will paint you oceans,
sail you across the world, buy islands
and name them after you.
I want to be everything
you’ve ever imagined.

You follow the world
from the safest distance.
You are completely odd
in all of the right ways
and I want to be
the mirror image
of your wildest dreams.
Adrianna Aarons Jun 2015
science tells us that energy cannot be created or destroyed
only transferred
is that why your feelings for me were so easily transferred to someone new?
were they just the next best model of bulb for your circuit?
am I no longer bright enough?
science tells us that materials cannot disappear
so what happened to our memories?
do they lay dormant at the bottom of the ocean
or floating up in the atmosphere?
I still have my share, but yours are no where to be seen
if I could create a chemical reaction to reignite us I would
but you don’t want that
science tells us that atoms can form bonds
you’d think they’d be unbreakable
I thought that too
clouds look so stable and solid
and as children we believe that
but growing up teaches us that clouds are as stable as well
as us
I don’t believe in fate
or anything I can’t see
but I guess if I did I’d say our souls were bonded and that there’s a string of moon dust pulling on my heart strings.
I guess I’d say I AM the moon and you’re the sun cause no one would notice me without you
I guess I’d say that in a past life our bodies were rocks that formed together
I guess I’d say that when I saw you for the first time the sun shone brighter on you than anyone else
because you are so beautiful
and I guess I’d say that fireworks explode in my chest around you
and that galaxies must have collided to form those eyes
and I’d say that time stops to hear your voice because nothing is ready to hear angels sing
and I guess I’d say that id like to kiss you in the rain of our happiness and yes I said rain because rain falls hard like I did for you
and I guess if I believed it I’d say that somewhere in the ******* stars it says I was meant to love you
but science tells us the stars we see are dead anyway
you can keep that metaphor
449 · Mar 2015
3:05am
Adrianna Aarons Mar 2015
I know falling apart is just

one of those easy things,

but I guess I was really

hoping it would have been

harder than it looked.
I must look so put together.

I mean, that has to be

why I shift inside and outside

of wide shadowed rooms,

it’s like the shadows are not

ever dark enough to make me

want to stay.

I still cry during corny movies

because I wish things really

did fall together like that.

I wish my bones weren’t

made from glass.
They’ll never ask about

the cavities in your teeth

but you’re still making sure

they know about how you brush

2 times a day (sometimes 3) and then

you floss until your gums are sore

but you always leave out the part
where you grind your back molars too much

whenever you try to sleep.

The dentist told you it was totally normal

but soon they’re crumbling and you think:

No, not so normal.
The days when I smile, I look sad

and the days when I cry, I look happy.
It’s like I’m all muddled together

from trying to switch the gears

too fast.

I revved my engine

until I couldn’t even roar anymore.
Falling apart was just 
too easy to ever
try to make it hard

and some girl in my science class

keeps saying something

about the tragedies being art

but this isn’t poetic

or pretty,

how could it be

when falling apart should never

come this easy?
440 · Dec 2014
Cover
Adrianna Aarons Dec 2014
Angel, Devil, Savior, Killer, Lover,
I am moving all the mountains I can,
But they crumble and I run for cover,
For I’m more afraid than you understand.
Escape from real life, my sweet, sweet relief,
Because in reality, you are far.
I am insane and you bring me peace,
I’d **** to be exactly where you are.
I would take excellent care of you, dear.
I would bring all the heavens crashing down.
I would eliminate all of your fears,
Atop your mane, I’d lay a silver crown.
Angel, Devil, Savior, Killer, Lover,
I’d do anything to be your cover.
439 · Dec 2014
Untitled
Adrianna Aarons Dec 2014
Picturing you with her is the hardest thing
because I know that she’s slowly helping you heal,
Helping you because I’m the one who broke your ******* heart.
And everything brings me to tears,
and I feel so helpless,
and I really need you here
But I don’t have anyone,
my only company are the demons.
Drowning me,
suffocating,
keeping me here,
with sleepless nights,
and wounds that won’t heal.
I know I broke you
but I want to be the one who heals you again.
426 · Feb 2017
Some thing Not thing
Adrianna Aarons Feb 2017
I wonder what it would be like to not leave a note
And have you piece me together
And if I could watch you do it I wonder what you would say
Would you paint me in warm colors, always happy, always caring, never selfish?
Or would you speak to me in hatred through the thin fabric of life and death that we so willfully hang upon
Would those selfish emotions absorb you like they did me
Would you hate me more than I hate myself
Because you loved me for you or because you loved me for me
I don't know if either is better

I'm not always happy, I don't always care, and I am selfish
You don't know me, I don’t think you ever will
And I don't want you to, I am evil
I am cynical, I am angry, I am the opposite of empathy
And I think under all that ******* you are too

Maybe it'd be a good lesson for you to see me drift into a quantum fluff
And become all the blips that crowd your radar with existential superstition
And I hope that it's quick, I don't want to see anything flash in front of my eyes
I do not want to see my life pass me by
I don't even want to say goodbye
I just want to be.. No thing.
426 · Feb 2017
Edit
Adrianna Aarons Feb 2017
You were a wave of cancer cells and broken bones that came crashing on me. I finally got my head up and I'm floating on.
424 · Dec 2014
12:37am
421 · Jun 2015
Exerpt - The Perfect Family
Adrianna Aarons Jun 2015
“Ye—yes, s—sir,” Alex stuttered, sitting up and backing against the sofa.

“Well..” Mr. Joyce clutched the knife tightly in his fist, his knuckles turning white from intense anger. He could feel his son’s eyes growing wider and drops of sweat dwindling down the side of his face. He could hear his son’s heart rate and breathing quicken, and could feel the transfer of cower make the couch shake in unison to his son, on his leg. Mr. Joyce grinned. He moved quickly and pinned Alexander against the back of the couch with his forearm across his neck. Mr. Joyce could feel his son struggling to breathe. He smiled spitefully. Mr. Joyce slowly brought the knife to his son’s face, making sure he could see it.

“Now,” Mr. Joyce whispered maliciously. Alexander’s pupils dilated at the sight of the knife, tears rolling down his face and landing on his father’s arm. He brought the knife closer to his son’s neck, gently poking his delicate skin to see him tremble in fear. “You’ll be an even better son.” He pressed down, carefully breaking his elusive skin and watched in delight as the first trickles of blood broke free. Overcome with fury, Mr. Joyce plunged the blade into him deeper, watching in satisfaction while the crimson blood soaked into the boy’s soccer uniform, poured onto his arm, and onto the couch. Mr. Joyce dragged the knife slowly across his throat, reveling in the slight struggle the boy attempted in putting up. Gurgling sounds escaped Alexander’s mouth, but he was soon silent and still. The blood of Mr. Joyce’s failure of a son darkened the cream colored sofa with every drop that fell from his neck, drying to a deep, disappointing brown.

Mr. Joyce looked to his wife, still gripping the blood-stained knife in his hand and breathing deeply. Krystine peered up to him from the magazine in nonchalance, “After everyone’s finished with dinner, I’ll call to order a new sofa.” She sat up to retrieve the plates of blood-touched sandwiches on the table.

“Aw,” Krystine sighed, looking down at the dishes, then to her husband, “these were my mother's nice plates.”
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