"I knew who I was this morning, but I've changed a few times since then."
I arose from sleep with sheets tangled along my ankles and the inevitable dread of being me. I stretch and I yawn but my muscles are screaming but my lungs are aching, my bones are creaking. My soul is loudly screeching begging for release. I push it down with ***** smuggled in my orange juice, a smile at my mother and 3 white pills. I'm dreadfully me.
By noon one foot is put in front of another, my hands swing at my sides and my eyes roam but they did not see. My screams of inner insanity are only a whisper but I feel as if everyone can hear the singing. The electricity in my brain crackles and I feel the singing growing louder, sirens to my death. I am painfully me.
By afternoon my hand hungrily grasps yours and I am a ship tossed at sea, my anchor is rusted, chain breaking link by link. You are the eye of the storm, my calm before chaos. I am chaotically me.
By night you wrap yourself around me, heart beats in tune. Your hands explore every curve, crevice, bare skin traveled. I am undiscovered land, plentiful for your taking. I am breathing you in, where I begin and you end is lost between our forever. I am blissfully me.
Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 9:32 PM UTC
As he steps through the door I feel her, lurking in the shadows.
As he bangs his keys on my table, the jingle is the musical notes to her laugh.
When he calls "Hey baby" I feel her rolling off his tongue and splattering in on my walls.
I set his cold dinner down and stare at his shoes, I can see her in his step, the way he leans to kiss me.
She's in his bones, seeped into his lips, he's forming his lips for a set too big to be mine.
He sits and talks about his day but his eyes are bright, he's got stars on his palms.
She's branded him, I see him intertwining our hands rubbing my knuckles but I feel her there. She's holding on, not letting go.
You haven't left her yet but I know you won't.
She's not the only one in this war, holding you, pleading for one more night.
You've touched a galaxy, when I was only a star.
Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 8:39 PM UTC
One.
You see her for the first time and she’ll walk right past you like you are a crack in the wall and she is a skyscraper with her head so high in the air and when you can’t sleep you’ll think about the way her eyes strayed into yours for a moment too long before breaking away and disappearing into the crowd of people.
Two.
She’ll look both ways before telling you she loves you under her breath and when she hugs you her eyes scan the empty room as if the walls had eyes and ears and mouths that could give you away.
Three.
When she’s curled up on your lap shaking with mismatched breaths you’ll wonder how someone who looked like she carried mountains on her shoulders could crumble so easily in your arms like the tornado in her mind finally hit her and knocked her off her feet.
Four.
In half-light she’ll run her fingers over your arms like she is reading words carved into your skin, binding them together into the perfect metaphor and you’ll hear it playback in your head at 4am when your head runs wild with thoughts of her.
Five.
You’ll find a safe haven on rooftops and abandoned rooms where she’ll set fire to your insides with hushed breaths between kisses planted perfectly on your lips and make you wonder how dangerous it is to play with wild flames while your body is made of paper.
Six.
You’ll stare God right in the eye and tell him that if loving her was a sin then you want no place in heaven with him because the way her lips fit perfectly on your neck is a type of paradise you’ll never forget.
Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 11:10 PM UTC
When I was eight my cousin told me stars were just giant fireflies that got too close to the moon. They were trapped there forever holding up lights in the sky because their little bodies couldn’t burn that bright. I held onto this belief, told all my friends this wonderful discovery laughed when they said it wasn’t true. Some told me of their old sibling’s stories of fireballs in the sky and chunks of the moon. How unbelievable, fireballs in the sky? We all scoffed at the idea.
When I was ten I sat in a plastic seat while the teacher droned on of gas and fire, supernovas and The Big Bang Theory. His pants were too short and his ankles showed and it annoyed me that he couldn’t tell us all the constellations. He made the stars seem dim as if they really were just ***** of gas, dust and fire. I looked at the science and took it in as if it were an orphaned bird. I scoffed at the kid in me screaming for fireflies.
When I was twelve I cried a lot. I walked the middle school hallways timidly as if I was a deer during hunting season. They singled us out, the ones who felt it all while being emotionally stepped on. They could pinpoint us as easily as knowing one’s own address. And yet we didn’t group together nor become friends, we all feared the rejection that was so often served to us. We all wished upon silly things like candles, dandelions, falling feathers, and stars. We always believed in the stars. I scoffed at the cruelty of it all.
When I was 17 I began to believe again. Small fingers tugged on mine asking what stars were really made of and I said fireflies holding chunks of the moon. A reflex reaction to a question I so often ignored and stored in the science category of my brain. Silently chastising myself for letting her believe me, she wouldn’t believe in fireflies forever. I scoffed at myself for forgetting I was once small fingers tugging, asking for stars.
Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 5:26 PM UTC
*In the night last night
I saw a flower blooming
but approach it I did not
the thorns were thick with poison
the flower was I*
Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 9:37 PM UTC
wrapped in casual affairs and spitting a venom of pure passion and lust.
the **** is love? why the hell are you looking at me like you can't imagine the world spinning without me, lips trailing across my shoulder when I was only seeking a thrill. **** I only wanted to feel.
One of 12 boys who feel in the lull of my voice, the electricity between my fingers, sweeping into the vast vocabulary by which I spewed with such anger. I wasn't to be played with, I'm a carnivore with a craving of boys with candy hearts and sweet souls ready to broken into pieces I'll use to rebuild the damning holes in my brain.
You love the way my hair falls in wild curls, I remind you of every wave curling around the sand. I'm so close to you but so **** far away. You adore the way I bare my teeth when you come too close, you feel the need to be more dominant, but you can't fail your mistress, I'm the ******* queen.
A ******* cannibal, and I've become so ******* hungry.
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 8:47 PM UTC
There are a million different ways to say I need you and I'm throwing every one out the **** window because I can't compare you to the ways you want to fly anymore
Please understand that I can't keep avoiding railroad tracks and redlights because I miss the way your hand felt traveling up my thigh; fingerprints seared onto the inside of my skirt and your eyes glued ahead like you were afraid of losing yourself in the brake lights before us.
Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 7:57 PM UTC
All these words I ******* wasted on you, an obscene amount of sentences that were tipped in your name. Time spent behind a pen that could have been spent in times better. All the words I spewed to you, every ******* tear shed, will be lost in the Bermuda triangle of other girls you tried to conform to your own twisted self image.
And all along, you were just some ink in a pen I was trying to bring to life.
**** you for making me create an imaginary love.
Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 4:50 PM UTC
This is a lot more formal than writing it out for you, besides you usually can’t read my handwriting anyways. I’m sure you’re sick of my notes by now, but later in life they might matter, or we might break up and burning them might be part of your healing process. Being with you has changed my life drastically, in the best way possible, I didn’t want to live. I had no hope for my future, I felt as if I was standing three feet in cement and I was sinking fast. And then a man with ******** comments came into my life for whatever reason, and changed me for the better. I want to succeed, be the best woman possible for you, though I make you mad at times because of my quick temper and tendency to befriend a bit too many guys, I appreciate you in more ways than you can ever imagine.
I have never met a man as kind as you, or a man who cares so much about the people he loves. Loyalty has always meant something to me because I never had it; the amount of people that have been disloyal sickens me at times, for I was the one to believe they were something different. Yet, I found you; you are the most loyal man I have ever had the pleasure to meet. Being with you feels different, I have never craved the attention of anyone before, but having you with me eases whatever pain I’ve felt in the last couple of days. Our relationship has been something I wouldn’t trade for anything in the world; you’ve accepted me as myself and loved me for my flaws. I am but a plain girl to be frank, I am not extraordinary or exceptional, but holding your hand, or lying next to you, makes me feel beautiful for whatever reason.
I haven’t had the courage to tell you ever story in my head, or blurt out every thought in my head for I fear I am partially insane. You put up with me wishing I was a leaf, theories on dead birds, and the habit of my resting in too many trees. Just the fact that you’re willing to climb trees with me, or explain how beautiful crows are, makes me fall so deeply in love with the person you are. I understand at times why so many people adore you, as beautiful as a person you are. Being without you feels like two thirds of me are missing, as if I have ghost limbs and I keep reaching out to see if you’re there when you’re not. I love you immensely, though I love you doesn’t compare to the way I feel, words or actions can’t describe who you are to me.
You treat me as if letting me go would be the end of the world and I thought I didn’t understand that until I think of the thought of you leaving. Thoughts like these steal my breath away, and the ground beneath me, because losing you means losing a part of whom I am, and that is terrifying.
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 12:22 PM UTC
And I swear to God if you feel the indent where my body has been laying on this forsaken empty bed, it'd be warm. But I'm not warm, I'm not even warm when I'm fogging up the windows in your backseat, and sometimes you wonder why my nose is so cold while it's pressed into the spot between your shoulder and neck. I have no idea what I'm doing here, or how the hell you're still holding my hand, I've chained you to my wrists and told you to stay.
I've been able to pick your flaws like flowers and the petals spelled 'I love you' but they smelt like poison.
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May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 8:03 PM UTC