When I hear the words "abusive relationship"
I think of the gruesome pictures of women
battered and bleeding
that they showed to us in health class.
They forget that not all wounds are so easily seen.

not MY relationship.
I would never fall victim to such a horrific cycle,
of emotional abuse.
Sure he screamed and called me every name in the book,
but at the end of every night he swore he loved me.
And sure he kept tabs on me at all times,
and my friendships began to fade into the background,
but he just worried, which meant he cared.
...right?

not MY relationship.
Sometimes we become so invested and fall so deeply in love,
that we become numb to the pain.
The abnormal becomes normal.
And the punishment that you so often receive,
you begin to believe is deserved.

MY relationship.
I hesitate to call it abusive,
maybe because it has such a horrifying ring to it.
Maybe it's denial.
But whatever it is,
it took me 3 years to finally break the cycle.

Am I pretty yet?
I didn't eat dinner last night,
maybe it will be enough
for someone to notice me.

Am I pretty yet?
The lady on this bottle of diet pills is.
If I take these, maybe it will be enough
for someone to want to be my friend.

Am I pretty yet?
I wont eat lunch at school anymore,
so no one will think i'm fat .
Maybe that will be enough
for someone to like me.

Am I pretty yet?
I'm caught in the ruthless cycle
of binging and purging.
Maybe that will be enough
for someone to love me.

Am I pretty yet?
I only weigh 70 pounds now.
Maybe just 10 less would be enough,
for me to start to like myself.
Maybe.

You're a ******* *******.
That's all.

Let your lips dance across my skin
and let your hands find no part of me
left untouched
Breathe me in,
and embrace my every curve
Let your warmth radiate through me,
and fill your fingers with my hair
I'm bored of being individuals
so let me melt into you
and let us become one

We used to light plants on fire
burn our throats, and dry our mouths
roll the windows up
and then we'd take flight

Just young kids fighting their way through the world
together
but you see,
stoner friends differ from real friends
to them it's
just another bowl
just another blunt
just another set of hands to roll the next joint
and just as soon as you think you've fought off the demons
they find their way back home

I used to swallow boxes of pills
invite in the trip, and embrace the weightlessness
dilate my pupils
and then i'd take flight

Just a young girl fighting her way through the world
alone
laying on the bathroom floor
the demons make themselves at home
infesting your mind
and taking over your life

...and what a dysfunctional miracle it is
to grace this earth
with only two feet
and so many miles to cover

Most people love the night
When they can lay their heads down
And find the peace that lacks in their
Everyday lives
their demons are hushed
By a wall of unconsciousness
And all is forgotten

I hate the night
Because my mind starts to wander
And my demons use my head
As their battle ground
"Who am I and what am I doing here?"
"Maybe I'm meant to be alone"
"Why can't I just be happy?"

I awake in cold sweats from
The night terrors
Roll over,
And pray for the sun to rise

Have you ever had one of those relationships
Where you have been with the person multiple times,
but something always goes wrong,
and you can't seem to put your finger on exactly what?
You know you should have nothing to do with them,
but you miss how they make you complete.
"Just once more, maybe there is something I can do"
And you try,
you do everything in your humanly power to make them happy
and to show them you care.
And for a little while everything is amazing
but slowly they **** the life out of you,
and you still find yourself memorized by them.
You want the future you see with them,
and they say they love you too...
but saying something and actually meaning something are
distant cousins.
So you end up empty and alone.
Those relationships ******* ****.

You have misused me
bloodied and abused me
You screamed at and confused me
threw away and then reused me
You have cheated then accused me
got mad and then you bruised me
You'd get bored and then excuse me
thought about it but never pursued me
You have misused me

...and it was so memorizing,
the way he looked at the world.
Like a child, his eyes would light up
at the mention of his passion.
He was strong, but gentle.
He was fearless, but delicate.
He was not perfect, but he was close.

Over time the sparkle of his eyes clouded over,
and his passion was lost.
He pushed everything and everyone close to him away,
but cried of loneliness.
He was fragile, but cruel.
He was a fighter, but forfeited nearly every match.
He was unique, but became obsessed with "the American Dream"
He was lost, but threw away his own map.
Yet through everything,
He was not perfect, but he was still close.

I miss you, but I know you are toxic for me.
I think about you every night before bed,
and wish you were still lying next to me.
Even if you always faced the other way.
My heart nearly stops,
when I see you driving around town.
Even though the passenger seat is where I sat many times,
while you screamed at me.
I miss the way we laughed,
and the way you made me whole.
Even if you were usually laughing AT me.
Without you it feels like a part of me is missing.
But for the first time, I feel whole.

I cry for you,
not because of your failures or misfortunes
and not because of the hardships
that weigh on your shoulders like heavy snow on weak branches
I cry for you,
because of the potential that leaks
from your seams that you will never
un-stich yourself for
because of the sparks in your eyes
that will never be noticed by you
because you are too timid to let them do anything but
implode

I want to play
he loves me, he loves me not
in a field of flowers.
Then maybe i'd have a better chance
of you loving me

I want to spin the globe
and let my fingertips dance across it
as if they are finding a place to call home
somewhere new
somewhere beautiful

call me crazy
call me a globetrotter
tell me I have wanderlust