I am a mess of habits, scooped with shaking hands like rusted pennies.
I breathe more nicotine than I do oxygen.
I bite my nails like that is the only way I can keep from clawing my skin off my bones.
The liquor bottles under my bed far outnumber the books on my shelf.
I am constantly shrinking myself, making room for the people I place around me,
Like a computer program running in the background.
I am shaping myself like clay around the space of those I hold dear.
Making myself small and building up everyone else.
The smoking and the drinking may **** me young,
But not before I shrink myself so small, I disappear.
Oct 6, 2013
Oct 6, 2013 at 1:30 AM UTC
It's been a while since I've had skinned knees doctored and bandaged
But you've always been good and patching me up in other ways.
Lately I've been tripping over my feet and falling to my knees
I've been craving letting my veins unzip themselves like my favorite red sweater.
As it turns out, most of the things in my life that make me feel better, also make me feel worse.
You keep me sane but you make me crazier than anyone else.
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 3:33 AM UTC
Fear kills everything.
It sweeps through the soul like a wildfire, setting everything ablaze,
And leaving nothing behind but the ashes of what you used to know.
I can feel my love beginning to smolder and my hope for
This is hazed by a thick layer of smoke.
Sep 28, 2013
Sep 28, 2013 at 4:30 PM UTC
I cannot believe in something I have not seen or felt.
This is what I've told my mother on the occasions she asks me to go to church.
I'm trying to learn to believe what you've told me
But words without actions are like book covers with no pages.
And after all this time, I still haven't learned not to
Sail over oceans for someone who wouldn't even jump a puddle for me.
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 12:17 AM UTC
How to whittle my anxieties into shapes more suited to your ears is not a lesson I was taught in school.
Your presence in my life has left my heart dripping nectar, full to bursting with sweetness I can't contain.
But there are razor blades under my skin that will cut you before anyone can predict.
I'm trying to get them all out but you've found so many of them first.
I'm sorry for the scars knowing me will leave.
Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 11:47 PM UTC
The way your smile hits your eyes could stop wars,
And if the sound of your laughter was wine, I'd start drinking again.
The way you move is like animated poetry
And the low song of your voice is enough to cure the saddest of days.
There is nothing about the way you were crafted that doesn't make my heart sing,
But when I think of how I'm better when you're around, my feet won't touch the ground.
I could get lost in everything you are.
So when you ask me what I see when I look at you,
I will just show you this poem.
Aug 20, 2013
Aug 20, 2013 at 4:07 AM UTC
I want to sink my hands into your chest,
Pull all the splinters from your heart,
And plant my lips down on it.
I want to stitch up all the rips and tears,
Mend all that has been broken,
And lose my fingers in your veins so you always know I'm there.
But I'll have to settle for the surface.
I cannot sit inside you with a needle and thread,
but I can hold your hand and kiss you when it hurts
And help to heal you from the outside in.
Aug 14, 2013
Aug 14, 2013 at 4:20 AM UTC
I have grown up more in the last few months than I have in the last few years.
I used to think that real love meant kisses on the lips and making excuses.
Sometimes I find myself making wishes on eyelashes, hoping to find your hand in mine.
But I learned that cake is still cake, no matter the shape it's baked in.
You don't have to kiss me on the mouth or stick a label on me to know what love is.
I don't have to make wishes because I've grown up more in the last few months
Than I have in the last few years.
I have learned that real love is loving every bit of that cake, no matter its shape.
Sometimes, real love is holding your hand with no real expectations
Other than knowing you're going to keep it there.
Aug 14, 2013
Aug 14, 2013 at 3:52 AM UTC
I remember when we had phone calls until little girls got up for school.
I remember the drunken laughter, peeing while talking and spilling beer.
I remember hearing the sleepy giggles of your own flesh and blood,
And when you told me you couldn't wait for us to meet.
I remember showing you my soul from two hours away,
And trying to keep my tears quiet over the phone.
You always heard them, though.
You always heard me.
And you let me hear you too.
You let me past the stubbornness and the walls around your heart
And that was better than being heard.
Sparse text messages aren't as good as our late night calls, but I suppose it's better than nothing.
I fear we're dangerously close to nothing.
I remember when you told me you'd always be here.
Where are you?
Aug 14, 2013
Aug 14, 2013 at 3:43 AM UTC
When I met you, I never thought I’d be that girl again
Fallin for another man’s tricks and bein another **** puppet
The difference here is now I know a thing or two.
My honesty came from a bottle or five of Blue Moon
In a dark hometown parking lot. In the play of my life this is a familiar scene.
I always fall harder and I always care more and ********* I have run my fingers to the bone
And my heart to the ground and my bank account to the negatives trying to keep you here.
And when people ask, I will deny that after all this time my face still lights up when your name
Hits my phone and I’ll jump at the chance to hang off your lips like the Camels in the door of the truck
We spend so much time in the back of because we claim there’s no reason to have to miss the way
We fused so well and fit so perfectly.
But after so many of those nights, I realized I know you better than you think I do.
I know you like I know the scars on my arms and like I know how I have my daddy’s skin but my
momma’s mind.
And every ******* time you pull me into that back seat and you press your forehead to mine as you
Press the rest of yourself into the rest of me, I feel it and I know you feel it too and don’t you dare
******* tell me you don’t love me too because we both know what those silences mean.
Between kisses, when we just stare at each other; one always asks, ‘what?’ and without fail,
The other will always reply, ‘nothing’ because we’re both too weak to say how we feel in that moment.
The difference here is that you know a thing or two because, between bottles of beer, I told you.
And if I know anything too, it’s that I can read you like my favorite poem, and behind the aggressive
Façade and the smoke you’ve inhaled, you’re just a scared little child holding a beer living a life
You do not truly understand.
And if I want anything in the world right now, I want you to hand the beer to the man I know is inside
You and let him become drunk on the words he needs to say and let them find their way to my ears.
Jul 29, 2013
Jul 29, 2013 at 7:30 AM UTC