That night
So long ago
I was so young
They were so old
Moon out
Stars out
Alcohol in hand
Quickly falling down our throats
Blunt in hand
Press softly against lips
Mist of only short happiness
That night
So long go
I was so young
They were so old
Moon out
Stars out
Per-pressure falling against me
I shake my head
Say no
Voices surround me
Say yes
That night
So long ago
I was so young
They were so old
Moon out
Stars out
Foot against gas petal
Hand on steering wheel
Giggling and laughing
then....
Darkness
That night
So long ago
I was so young
They were so old
Moon out
Stars out
The car is crashed
I'm being shoved out of the car
Fingers pointing
Telling me to run
My hands shake
I shed tears
Everyone in the car is alright
but what about outside the car?
Everything's black
Then it's morning
I'm still a 12 year old girl
Who looks ALOT older
Trying to be cool
Hangout with the college kids
**** it!
We all know I'm a ***** up.
JD I love you.
***** to say you were the strong one.
The one taking the blame for someone else's doing.
We all know I'm a **** up.
Don't lie and cover it up.
I'm 17 now.
It's about time I take responsibility for my actions.
but not this one... Not yet... Maybe not ever
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 10:40 PM UTC
I lost my virginity in a church parking lot. I took holy sanction for an act that was unclean because it was with someone I did not love. In fact I barely knew him.
I lost my virginity in a church parking lot, and I should have known then that was the beginning of a walk in the shadows, away from salvation.
Its been years since I've walked through church doors, except for the occasional funeral. I never talk to God unless my heart is swelling with pain.
Its been years since I have been the person I should be, my high school experience being filled with days being too intoxicated to function, pills and a hospital visit, wounds made by my own hand and too much self hatred for one person to stand.
I lost my virginity in a church parking lot, but its been years since I've walked through church doors.
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 10:47 PM UTC
I have loved to be alone
My whole life.
Closed doors, phone on silent.
I have never known
Loneliness.
Aug 6, 2014
Aug 6, 2014 at 11:42 PM UTC
This is no longer an open diary to you, but it will still be composed purely of "I love you"'s and "I miss you"'s.
I buried your goodbye letter in my pillow and I will sleep over it like a tombstone because I am not ready to feel away from you yet.
I am going to lay here and wait for you to come demanding that its not over, but you won't.
So I will no longer count down the days till I get to see you. But pray for the day to come that I am not surrounded by constant reminders of you.
..I always lose things in my bed sheets, and somehow you disappeared too, and now I am afraid to fall asleep.
What if you hold me in my dreams and I wake up and you are nowhere to be found?
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 12:26 AM UTC
I can still smell the moonshine on my skin, no matter how hard I scrub it off. I can still see your smile no matter how hard I shut my eyes. You are everything I should want. You are everything I should reach across the sheets for at night. And at this point, I dont think even god knows why, but you aren't.
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 5:18 PM UTC
I can smell the rotting of my bed sheets and the mold in the air.
this is the furthest thing from poetic because none of this is beautiful.
I thought my life was going to bloom into something great and now my room at home rots like fruit, and my parents complaints reveal themselves like seeds, telling me to go plant myself something.
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 5:16 PM UTC
kissing you was like swerving into oncoming traffic
i can never tell if i am more haunted by empty picture frames or the ashes of their contents
you taught me that the saying "pick your battles" meant not answering when love was at the door
sometimes when i drink whiskey i swear i can hear your voice in the creases of my bedsheets & i sleep on the floor
i still catch myself running my hands over things you touched the most, looking for the echoes of your fingertips
i practice things i'll never say to you
i remember the day you told me you didn't like poetry, how "everything's already been said" & how "nothing meaningful can be captured without being cliche" you know, i don't miss you like the sun and moon, i do not miss you like tide bent waves crashing on the shoreline, i miss you like a chernobyl swingset misses children
rumor has it that drowning is a lot like coming home, that drinking bleach can **** the butterflies in your stomach
for your love of cigarettes, i would have been an ashtray
this halloween i want to dress up as the you when you loved yourself and show up on your doorstep
i never understood what you meant when you said i was an instrument, back when you would cup your hands around my chest and breathe through the holes in my heart, i still wonder if the sounds i made remind you of wind chimes
i never paid much attention to abandoned buildings until i became one
in my dreams all the flowers smell like your perfume
i am the only person who has ever wished for the same snowflake to fall twice
if i could go back, and rewrite the definition of audacity, it would be how when we lost the bet of love, you said "we never shook on it"
i love you, if the feeling is not mutual, please pretend this was a poem
the only apology i want from you, is to have you repeat the names of children we will never have in your parents living room until they *****
we are the same person if you find yourself up at 4am dry heaving promises, or if you are kept awake by the laughter of those who've abandoned you
nobody ever told you that goodbyes taste like the back of stamps
sometimes i'm convinced that the only reason we hug, is so you can check my back for exit wounds
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 5:10 AM UTC
*Am I so mean to you?
Is that why you leave the
Bed to go and cry alone
When you think I'm
Sleeping?*
No.
I go to think. Thinking makes me
Cry. One hour is worth five
Hours of deep sleep.
I see clearer through tears.
I go to ask. Ask why we both miss
The same sides of love.
Why we both lay on either end
Of a mile wide king size
And wait for the other's arm
To reach across the proud void.
I go to ask why we both feel
Unfairly treated for the same
Reasons. I slip away from
The sensation of sleeping alone
When I'm not; it's worse than actual
Solitude.
I go to have meetings with myself.
To evaluate. Analyze. Criticize my
Act and improve. Take and give
Blame between myselves.
Who wouldn't cry?
No, little girl. You're not mean to me.
I am. I am a poet. I don't leave your
Side to weep.
It's all poetry to me.
Poetry and tears.
I go to sit by myself and
Not write.
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 5:00 AM UTC
Half full.
Half empty.
Thank God
For this
Glass.
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 4:58 AM UTC