Give me your happiness, so I may increase it tenfold.
Give me your limits, so I can help push you past them and become stronger.
Give me your phone so when the enemy rings I can hang up and block them so you don’t have to.
Give me the nights where we just danced in the street to our favorite song.
Give me the mornings where I wake up before you just to see you so peaceful in your slumber.
Give me the sight of you taking off your makeup.
Give me the sight of your blue eyes in the pale moonlight.
Give me the love I know you have, but you won’t let anyone see.
Give me the 3am thoughts you can barely speak.
Give me your demons so they can play with mine and leave you alone for a night or two.
Give me your lungs so I can help them breathe.
Give me your mind so I can soothe your troubles.
Give me your hard nights and roughest times.
Give me your aching heart and let me repair it the only way I know how.
Give me the ability to give you my heart, because no one else has even bothered to try.
Give me your body to place on a thrown, because my darling that’s where someone like you belongs.

Do you want to be with me?
Does the thought of having this baby scare you so much that you can't be patient with me?
Is it that we dont have ***?
Why is it when I speak you always get upset and say I'm trying to blame you when I'm just trying to talk?
Is it that I'm complaining too much?
Is it that I dont depend on you?
Is it that you want me to?

What do you want from me?
Do you want me to figure out a solution?
My solution is to just shut up and do whatever you want.
But you wont like that.
Neither will I.
Do you want me to visit at work everyday?
Ask where you are?
Be up your ***?
Do you want me to be fake?
Because that's what you're asking of me

I'm sorry
I can't live like that
Like this
Anymore
I'm done.

When I was young,
I would play with numbers more than the toys in my trunk.
I would talk about science like it was the language if love.
I would play in the dirt as if I knew I belonged there.
When I was young, I had a sense of wonder.

When I got older,
I left the numbers on the pages of my algebra textbook.
I broke up with science and gravitated more towards English and poetry classes
I stopped playing in the dirt and began yerning to live underneath it.
When I got older, I wanted to **** myself.

When I get to where I'm going,
The boys who dismissed me all those years ago will ask for my hand.
My poetry will lay upon the pages of text books.
Maybe I won't want to **** myself.

But that's part of getting older, isn't it?
Moving on from things that made your heart sing?
Is this what it means to be an adult?
I envy younger versions of myself.
They all had this way about them that would draw people to them.
But I guess I lost my charm while I was breaking my own bones.

Maybe one day I'll get to where I want to be.

Years from now I'll go back to this time
Where I went to a funeral and touched the hands of a dead man
And I'll remember the voice of the man who passed
And I'll remember how the cold of his hand stained my mind with thoughts of distress
I'll remember how he used to be
And I'll remember my final memory
Of a wax-looking figure colder than ice.

Maybe I shouldn't have reached out with my heart in my hand
In hope that my warmth would bring him back
Maybe then I wouldn't have hurt so much
When I touched a dead man's hand

Hello?
Can you hear me?
I've been locked inside my head so long I can just barely whisper
That you've hurt me, broken me
That my wounds have been reopened by just the sound of your name
Whispered on the wisps of wind on my lips because they miss forming those letters

Hello?
Are you listening?
Are you checking your phone hoping you have a missed call from me
A voice-mail you can listen to over and over because you know I'll always leave one so you can hear the hole in my lungs where your name used to rest

Hello?
Do you even care?
Have you even thought of me or even asked how I was doing
We ended so abruptly that the scars on my wrists have been torn open and someone in your family rubbed salt into them so deep they just continues to ache
Ache for you to clean them and nurse them like you used to

Hello?
Can you see me?
Can you see me on the road going on without you
Can you see me getting stronger and learning to be my own person again
Because you stole the very thing that made me who I was
My soul

Hello?
Is this you?
Is this the monster you have turned into or the shell of who you used to be
Its okay none of it matters anyway, I just need you to know
You still mean nothing to me

I'm sorry my darling
I think you're confused
You're not the **** that's attached to my shoes
For that is me and me alone
I get it I do
Don't worry I hate me too
I'm an idiot an *******
you name it I am
Not beautiful or sweet
Hell I'm not complete
Something inside me hurts and I can't stop it
Its beating like a drum and taking off like a rocket
I can't explain what's happening to me
I feel as if a runaway train caught up and
Decided its time for me to die
But I won't die until I see your smile
I'm sorry I broke it
Stick around a while
Not for me of course not
I'm the dust on your boot
The cap on your dash
I'm sorry this happened in the fashion it did
I'm lost I'm scared there's something within
Someone help me I've fallen again
Save me before I do something drastic.

He was the sunshine in my rain
And when it became a monsoon
He simply smiled wider.

When he touches me, I can feel your hand in mine.
When he kisses me, I can feel the heat of your breath.
When he ***** me, I can feel your hands on my hips.
When he sleeps, I can feel your heart beating.
When he looks at me, I can feel your eyes on my soul.
When he leaves me, I feel like you did all over again.

I’ve never been kissed in the rain, and I didnt understand the hype.
That is, until you threw me in the river and helped me down a bottle of Jack with the rainwater on your lips.
You gave me an eternity
In 8 months
And I thank you

I am a brainwashed, pompous, white girl.
I am a blonde haired zombie.
I am an unspecified music genre.
I am an incoherent thought in the brain of a broken society.

I am the result of a hard-*** Catholic and half-*** Baptist.
I am the consequence of a hard mother and an absent father
I am a product of a corrupted America.
I am a privileged white statistic.

I constantly play the victim.
I constantly hold myself responsible.
I constantly lie, cheat, and steal
I constantly prove I am a hypocrite.

I am simple, indecisive, and manipulative.
I am myself and then contradict myself by being someone else.
I am human, but unadorned.

I am a blank canvas which manifests contradictions and inabilities.
I am a snowflake made of stone.
I am an uninterested, direct line of truth spurts

I am plain.
As you see from my complexion, I am pale.
As you hear from my words, I am a refutation of minority.

I am not unique, I am not creative.
I am not what you think I am.
I am not who you think I am.

But if you knew who I was:
Would you leave?

I cant help but look at the full moon and feel empty.
Maybe someday soon,
I can make myself feel whole again

Everytime I think my brain turns to you. And in turn my stomach churns hoping you’ll reply with an I miss you and a smile

If flowers can grow back even after they've been stepped on,
I can get better, even after you.
If flowers can grow back even after a monsoon,
I can get along without you.
If flowers can grow back even after poison,
I can remove your toxins.
If flowers can grow back even after weeds take over,
I can remove you and make myself better.
I am a flower.
You were a ****.
He is my gardener.
And now I am green.

If I die young, don't let my family put me in a church or place they deem holy, for its not holy to me.

If I die young, lay me down by the roots of an old oak tree.
Let the wind blows my hair and caress my cold skin

If I die young, take care of her.
Take care of the girl I taught like a daughter and loved like a sister
Teach her everything is okay and that I was once ashes and I will be ashes once more.
Tell her I loved her and give her all my possessions
Teach her that I will be okay and I will watch over her as she grows up strong and wise like I taught her.

If I die young, take care of  my children.
The ones who fight against their monsters with battle axes and confidence that I'll be proud of them
Tell them I died fighting just as they are now
And tell them never to give up because I'm still so proud.

If I die young, burn me with the logs of trees long dead
Let my ashes spread through the sky and fall like fresh snow
Make sure to give everyone my best.

If I die young, please
Please don't forget about me

I'm not a poet
I shouldn't claim the like
Because a poet would know more
About struggle and strife
While I myself lay my head on a bed
Some poets stay up all night
Driving home their nails
Into the coffin of conviction
How dare I say I'm impaled.
While others wrote beautifully on social issues or on love
I sit and stare at the wall
I churn out writings on things such as white struggles and heartache
I'll write about the same boy over and over again with a different ad lib.
I'll write about voices in minds I can't reach or begin to comprehend
So tell me how I'm a poet, again?
Because I can write a line and hit an enter key
I somehow think I'm a cool *** thing.
Nah man, I'm not a poet
I'm a wannabe

What does one do when they have no inspiration?
How does an artist stay an artist without a muse?
How does one lonely poet write her most beautiful piece yet without the heartbreak driving her nails?

How can a beauty stand alone,
No lover or wondering eye,
How can she love herself when no one is around to hold her up,
When she tears herself down?

When does inspiration strike?
Is it holding your lovers hand or avenging your fallen warrior?
Is it lying alone in a large unforgiving bed,
With the sounds of your sobs as your dying lullaby?

What is inspiration?
When does it strike?
Maybe at the end of this poem,
I'll find mine.

I saw your face today
No I didn't get sad or anything.
I got angry because I know you saw me too.
You saw my moms car and looked the other way, biting your nail as you do.
I know it was you.
It wasn't your truck,
But I'd know that green ballcap anywhere.
Because I'd steal it every time we were together.
I'd know that God awful plad shirt anywhere
It was and if your only nice shirt
You always wore it all nice and tucked in on dates
So don't text me once you stumble upon this and say it wasn't you
Because I may be sick with terrible eyes
But I always know when I see you.

Everything would be easier
If you would walk away from me

But you won't
You'll leave me in limbo

Forever

Just Remember youll never see the side of me that's broken
I can promise you right now with my hands on your form of the Bible that you'll only hear of it
You'll see it in my texts or hear it in my voice
If you get lucky you'll be able to read my body language and listen hard enough to the screaming within my brain and figure out I'm in distress
But other than this I'll never let you see ime broken
I'll ask for a favor I've never cashed in because I always want nothing know return
I'll ask you to pray to your God or goddess that keeps you well in mind and ask of them to watch over me
I'll ask you to give me the space to breathe and gather my thoughts before I make a major decision
I'll begin and plead for your forgiveness once that decision has been made because
I know it was the wrong one

Just remember you'll never see me broken
But you'll always hear about it
You'll hear about the scars on my wrists or the pains in my thoughts
You'll hear about the throbbing behind my eyes and the spot where between my brow wrinkles because suddenly, it's not because of a smile
Its because of tears
Just remember you'll never see me broken
Unless you walk in on me because I forgot to lock the door
Then maybe
You'll hear what my heart and head are screaming to say

I've never been kissed in the rain until your lips found mine in that muddy water.
I've never kissed a bottle until the day you left me drawing within one.
I've never kissed you with a lie, yet you kissed me with the lie "I love you"

I'm sorry I latched onto **you

Everyone always wants to live in the fast lane.
And they all tell me I should do the same.
But why should I?

I don't want to run by people who could enrich my life
I don't want to go a hundred miles a minute.

I want to enjoy life.
Stop and smell the flowers,
Not see them and say "oh how pretty"

I want to love hard,
Not much.

I want to feel the soft embrace of a dedicated lover
Not just of everyone who throws an offer my way.

If I'm being completely honest
As long as I reach the air and finally feel my colors change
I'm okay with whatever happens around me

And maybe when I jump in a car with some pals and scream with them "ROAD TRIP"
I'm okay with running a hundred miles a minute.

But someone, once I'm in that left lane,
Please remind me to stop and breathe.
Remind me that life isn't just the wind blowing in my hair or the music turned up loud

Life itself is hidden in the dull moments.

And don't just remind me that life is worth living through those dull moments
Remind me to cherish how slow things can go.
How beautiful people get when they show you their souls
And only in dull moments and awkward silences can you see that in them

Only in loneliness can you find out who you are when you stand alone

Always remind me of those things
Because when you start running like that you get addicted to the adrenalin

But if you slow down,
If you see how people are made of comets and stardust
Maybe you can see that you yourself are, too.

If you live your life in the left lane,
How can you take the proper exit?
The exits that hold the best times are off to the right.

Don't tell me to live in the fast lane.
I don't want to brush past people
I don't want to be inside this shell that keeps me from slowing down

Thanks for your offer, but I think I'm well off
I have flowers to smell and people to meet

While I am sad we  turned out this way
I'm not sad to see you with another girl anymore
I don't worry you're thinking of me
I worry you're not happy
Because even though you pushed me around and made me out to be the bad guy
At one point I loved you
Therefore even though you treated me wrong I wanted you at the time
Therefore I will always want you to be happy
I don't want you with me
I want you with someone who will make you better.
I want you with someone who will call you on your behavior where I did not
I want you with someone who will make you hate yourself when you yell at her like you yelled at me
I want you with someone who is good for you
Like he is good for me

you know how at night
within the confounds of four walls and endless darkness
you find yourself making things up?
I do.
1) My father loves me.
2) I don't care what people think.
3) I hate you.
heh, yeah you see it too, right?
there's a list of three and none are true.
now if only I can figure out
how to not lie
And hate you

And that moment I understood all
From my troubled past to my ultimate fall
I understood what had to be done
To save this little girl from a loaded gun

Who am i to tell you who i am

For you are the force that keeps me awake at night

Trembling at the thought of eternity alone.

Love me, hate me, bleed me dry.
Kiss me, touch me, make me believe
In happy endings and meant-to-bes.
Push me, pull me, **** me softly.
Make me sober, make me salty.
Make me miss you, make me love you
Until there's nothing left
But endless packs of half-smoked cigarettes
And bottomless bottles of Hennesy on my lips.

Lost souls never make it home
They simply wonder for eternity

Why would I look up into the sky
To see fireworks tonight?
Baby all I have to do is stare into your eyes
To see my whole world shine
Against the pale moon and the sparks of colored light
I fell in love with you even more this night

If you catch me falling, I might fall for you.

If souls were like weeds, mine would grow with yours
Theyd soar past the others like a plane taking off
Because that's how our love is.
Baby, I've never fallen so completely.
And not nearly this fast
But I can surely say
This is a love that will last

I'm starting to miss the way you talked to me.
It wasn't totally obsessive or anything,
But you'd read my poetry and say it's fantastic.
No, that wasn't the word you'd use.
You'd say I was brilliant.

I'm starting to miss how you would sing to me.
It's not that you had the best singing voice but,
You tried hard for me and I liked that.

I'm starting to miss the way you would make fun of my bookshelf,
Because it's almost fallen on me many times from the weight of my collection.

And as I'm writing this poem I'm staring out my bedroom window.
Staring at the sky and hoping someday you'll get lonely and knock softly at the door.

Baby,
I don't know what's come over me
Suddenly all my thoughts point to you and
Maybe it's just that I miss the way you'd tickle my side while I'm reading on the couch
And you'd proclaime to the world "you're such a little nerd, I love you so much."

What happened to that?
What happened to all those late night calls or early morning messages?
What happened to "sleep well my beautiful baby, I'll see you in your dreams"?
How did it evolve into "okay bye"?

I refuse to say I miss you,
Because it's not true.

I'm sorry. I'm a terrible liar.

I don't miss you so much that I miss the memories.

I'm sorry, I'm lying again.

I don't miss the way you'd get angry at me for not talking to you when I'm in the middle of class.

I don't miss the way you'd yell at me just because I wouldn't come home one weekend because I needed to focus.

I don't miss how you treated me.

But what I do miss,
Is the way I could feel your body shiver when I kissed your cheek.
The way I fit so perfectly on your side
Or
The way your eyes sparkled when you said you loved me for the first time

I guess what I'm trying to say is I loved US together,
And I miss it.
But no, my darling,
I don't miss you.

You know I'm lying, don't you?

But my real question after all if this,
And after I say I don't miss you I guess it's a pointless question to ask,

But after all we've been through you know I can't lie to you to save my life
As you can see
Clearly I do miss you

But I was just wondering,
And don't make fun of a girl whos weak in the knees for you.
Do you miss me too?

It's good for the bones to go somewhere new
Where the flowers don't greet you and you know no one around you.
Sometimes it's good to know where you stand
With the Gods, Goddesses, and the sand.

Moving on can be hard or it can be much fun
Depending on who's around you
You could be the one
Standing on mountain tops or shouting from the roof
Movement is good for the soul, if you would.

She's beautiful
And I don't mean the kind of beauty where we judge your waist and breast size
I mean she's beautiful for the way she holds her head when the world is shutting down her brilliance
She's beautiful for the way her eyes sparkle when she has nothing to hide
She's even beautiful when her salty tears fall on pavement
Not no one will see her beauty the way I do.
The way when she wakes up and the first thing she does is let her hair down, and comb through it with her fingertips.
The way she will bring you to your knees with words
That's how she's beautiful
and how beautiful to me is she

You never told me goodbye.
I waited by the phone for hours upon hours
Waiting for just a simple word.
I wouldn't have cared if you said it,
In writing or in voice
But the fact you didn't speak at all
Makes me so weak
I cannot face reality

Never tell me of my imperfections.
For it is my imperfections that make me who i am.

Dont make fun of the way i scratch my nose or wiggle my toes.
The idiosyncrasies i have make me what i am and what i will become.

Or rather who I will become.
Because I am not a what or will or whim or a dream.
I am a human just being in time and space.

Flittering around on a pinpoint of a globe I call home because I don't know what else to do with my existence.

I didnt come out of the womb knowing exactly what i would do one day.
Nor did I come knowing of all the lives I would impact upon.
I didnt come knowing who i am and how my personality would affect My lifespan.

I came out with sparkles in my eyes and a hunger to prove i belong in a society that doesn't want to approve of anyone in the first place.

They say that all little white girls like me are privileged.
Though they know everyone has a different struggle.
Society is a hypocrite.

One second it'll say that people like me are accepted.
The cracked, the gay, the rebel.
But then it's confused.
Because I'm pale white with blonde hair and blue eyes.
How could this mixture even be?

I dyed my hair when I was young because I was tired of being called ditzy.
I wore colored contacts because I thought my eyes were to bright for such a somber world.
It wasn't until I was older.

It wasn't until I was wiser.
That I realized that there is no such thing as society.
The brain is so complex and we are all so focused on fitting in that we created an invisible standard for ourselves.

Blacks are "ghetto"
Whites are "privlaged"
And every other racial color is bled from the picture.
Society,
This invisible standard,
Started hounding me from a young age, telling me my thighs and arms were always to big.

Or that I was less because I didn't wear makeup everyday like every other 15 year old trying to fit in.
The invisible standard would cut me down until I cut myself open at the seams.
Bleeding onto the pages of textbooks and papers that I need to "get somewhere" in life.

Bleeding onto those job applications that say that you need experience to earn the experience to get experience for the job that you need to pay for the student loans you had to get in order to earn that degree to get the job.

The invisible standard tells me that little pale skined, blonde haired, blue eyed girls like me who can't handle their ***** need to always look over their shoulder otherwise I'll be taken or drugged or *****.

That all little girls fathers have to stand at the door holding a shotgun telling a boy that he's not good enough for her.

But why
Isn't that the question.
Why does the father have to hold the shotgun?
Can't he raise her well enough that she knows a healthy relationship from a harmful one?

Or can he raise her well enough to know if a boy is treating her right or wrong?

The invisible standard we have set for ourselves is telling each of us we don't belong in the world.
That all of these pale white girls with blonde hair and blue eyes are fragile

But at the same time they are the dumb ones.

Obviously if I was dumb I wouldn't be here.
If I was what society has called me out to be I wouldn't be over a piece of paper pouring words from my psyche onto it with such a force that shook the foundation of society itself.

Because that's the thing about this invisible standard.

There's nothing that you actually have to prove to it because it doesn't even exisit.

Ode to the girl working 5pm-5am trying to earnot her living.
Ode to the girl who cares for a small cat in a dreary room that cost almost $300 a month to live in.
Ode to the girl who works herself dead, where her workplace is home and her body is rejecting food because sheshe too poor to eat now.

Yes, if you haven't gotten the message by now, it's about me.
For working so hard and being all I can be, I certainly don't give myself much credit.
I work over 55 hours a week, sometimes I get up into the 60s.
Yeah, I'll complain I'm tired or that I wanna go home.
But do you see me missing my shift?
I worked my *** off and got a promotion and all my family thinks is that it's not nearly good enough, because I work at Dominos.

So this is for me.
This is for me staying up until 5 or 6 in the morning just to get up at 10am to play with my cat and feed her.
Staying up again until 5am the next morning, continuously only running on 4 or 5 hours of sleep.
I get less sleep than a college student.
And for once
I'm gonna tell myself good job
Because I live on my own, I pay my own bills.
I just bought my own car and I just might get a second job
All this for myself,
And ****

I'm so proud

The first thing that you forget, when you stop talking to someone is the sound of their voice.
So I suggest with every voicemail you receive, save it.
Whether it be from your grandma or your aunt or your boyfriend
You'll miss them sooner or later if they leave you.
When It's a healthy time for you, and you miss them a lot,
You'll still have their voice.
The way they spoke, every lisp every stutter
You'll hear it in that old voicemail.

I once loved a boy.
Some know most of  the story, some only know half
But only he and I know every end and out of that year and a half.
I still have his voicemails,
but they aren't only the happy ones.
Matter of fact, he only left me a voicemail when he was angry or when he had news he couldn't keep to himself long enough.
I deleted the happy ones after we broke up.

But I didn't do it because I was angry,
I did it because I wasn't worthy.
And yet, they're still in my trash bin waiting, ready to be recovered.

Because some days, I wonder if he's happy.
Then I'll hear his voicemail telling me he got his GED.
And it was because of me.
Because some days I wonder if he misses me
Then I'll hear his voicemail telling me he loves me and always will

See, I have a problem: I'm a hoarder
I horde voices.
I horde the sound of laughs and cries,
I horde the angry and the happy times.
I take them all and keep them close.
And I try and keep phones for as long as I can.
Because when the phone goes,
So do the voices that I hold dear.

So darling if you wonder if I still have every old voicemail you've ever sent me the answer is clear.
If I miss you, I press my phone to my ear.

But now it's been so long that your voice scares me.
The old voicemails sit and take up my data since I'm too afraid to delete them.
That means your gone forever
And while I may have broken your heart I hope you forgive me
And I hope this voicemail makes you smile.

I never thought I'd see the day
When words fail me and I walked away
But the clouds have parted and the moss has dried
And I can still remember
*Once, you were mine.

Once, I told you goodbye.
It was bitter and **** and my mind would race
My heart would cry and try to keep pace
But every time i opened my eyes,
They would water and my soul would die.
I smoked a cigarette in memory of you,
Drank a bottle of ***** and ran away from it all through
Thick and thin I would still stay
But then I remembered I pushed you away

Once, I told you goodbye.
I cried and cried once I woke
Sobering me up was certainly no joke
And once my eyes rested on pictures of his smile
My heart couldn't help but palpitate for a while

I know it's my fault and I know I shouldn't cry
But I'm sorry he was my everything
And I just let it die.

One day I believe I'll be what you want me to be
One day I think I'll do what you want me to
One day I wont **** up so much
One day I'll be worthy of you