after months of darkness
i take little pills of light
i don't know who i am
anymore
without the sadness
without the shadows
without the dreams of death
i am ordinary
and i'm not sure
how to deal with that
Feb 21, 2014
Feb 21, 2014 at 12:20 AM UTC
maybe it's bad like they say,
to base my opinion of my body
on the opinions of another
but
i hate myself
and he likes me
so for now
i'll believe him
Feb 21, 2014
Feb 21, 2014 at 12:09 AM UTC
i wonder if you realize
that the only way
i can sleep
is by imagining
you
underneath my head
or
curled around me
?
but all i have
is a cold pillow
and an imagination;
a poor substitute
.
Nov 30, 2013
Nov 30, 2013 at 12:48 AM UTC
I want you to come over and watch movies with me, and I wanna force you to watch Nightmare Before Christmas and listen to me sing all the songs, and I wanna drink too much mountain dew and order pizza and get half Canadian bacon *** you’re gross like that, and stay up until 2am, I wanna crawl into bed with you and listen to your heartbeat and breath as my lullaby, I wanna kick you in the middle of the night, I wanna wake up all tangled in the sheets and your limbs, and I wanna breathe my morning dragon-breath into your face. I wanna complain when you say it’s time to get up, and hide in your neck. I wanna make you pancakes and eggs for breakfast.
I want you to kiss me until I’m breathless
I want to go four-wheeling with you, racing each other around
I want to make cookies with you and feed you cookie dough
I want to cuddle with you all day under an alarming amount of blankets and watch American Horror Story and Adventure Time and Bravest Warriors
I want you to lay down on my bed with your shirt off, all sprawled out, so I can really appreciate your body
I want to see how soft the skin on your belly is
I want to see what your collarbones taste like
I want to eat icecream with you, and I want to clean off all the ice cream on your lips…with my mouth
I want to kiss all over your chest and stomach
I want to kiss those little back dimples…the little dimples on either side of the base of your spine
I want to just hang out with you on a Mountain Dew fueled craze; you playing GTA5, me on tumblr until the wee hours of the morning
I want to fall asleep in your arms; for once, completely relaxed while touching someone else while I sleep. To be able to wake up again, in your bed, to see your sleepy face and sleepy voice
Nov 23, 2013
Nov 23, 2013 at 1:13 AM UTC
Would it make you happy if I had perfect grades?
Would you be happy if I wasn't so disgustingly skinny?
Would you be happy if I didn't have a boyfriend?
Maybe it would make you happy if I never ever disobeyed you?
Would it make you happy if didn't have anxiety?
Would you be happy if I had a ton of friends?
Maybe you'd be happy if I wore pink and skirts instead of black and skinny jeans?
If I was perfect, maybe you'd be happy, maybe you'd love me then.
Oct 14, 2013
Oct 14, 2013 at 9:44 PM UTC
I've said it before, and I'll say it again.
I would give nearly anything, anything
to be able to fall asleep in your arms.
To relax in your warmth,
all wrapped up in your arms.
My head on your chest,
listening to your heartbeat.
To be able to wake up
in your bed,
limbs tangled.
To be able to see
your sleepy face,
your rough, unused voice.
Early morning kisses,
sleep-warmed blankets,
not a care in the world.
Oct 13, 2013
Oct 13, 2013 at 12:45 AM UTC
I walk down the crowded hallway,
arms cold, I forgot my sweatshirt in my last class.
I see her.
Loitering outside her classroom,
giggling with a group of boys.
All she does is look at me.
"Who do you think you're fooling?
her eyes ask.
"No one actually likes you.
He just dates you because it's easier
than being alone and sounds better
to have a girlfriend.
She's just your friend because
she feels obligated,
because you were her friend
when others left her.
You are and always will be the
weird, unwanted, unloved
freak."
And I believe her.
Oct 9, 2013
Oct 9, 2013 at 7:10 PM UTC
How much I long to fall asleep with you.
Absorbing your warmth,
listening to your heartbeat.
I want to see if
the skin on your stomach is soft,
and I want to map out your rib bones
and see what your collarbones taste like.
I want to run my fingertips over
the long string of pearls
on your back.
I want to kiss the little dimples
on either side of the base of your spine.
How envious I am
of your sheets,
who get to wrap around you
every night.
And your bed,
who gets to cradle you
in your sleep.
Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 2:51 PM UTC
Self harm is a disgusting
little sadistic, vile creature
who sits on my shoulder,
quiet, so quiet;
I forget he's there.
He sits and bides his time,
waiting, waiting.
Waiting, until I am
angry or lonely or depressed.
Then he whispers,
in a saccharine,
sickly sweet voice,
how much prettier I'd look,
with bite marks littering my arms.
Dark pink crescents,
over and over,
hard enough to bruise,
so that, days later,
little purpley-green marks
decorate my wrists.
Most days, I give in.
I try though, not to.
I clamp my jaw and press
my thumb into old bruises.
I know it hurts Sh-,
and that's the last thing I want.
*Show me your wrist and I
Show me your wrist and
Show me your wrist
and I'll kiss it, kiss it.*
Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 1:12 AM UTC
Half the time, I convince
myself you don't care,
hardly ever talking to me
outside of school,
still never kissing me again.
Then other times,
you're so cute.
Having the picture
I drew you, of
Marshall Lee and Fiona.
And how whenever
we sit together,
you are always touching me,
constantly in contact,
elbows or shoulders or legs or hips
touching.
Or giggling with me
about Catbug,
the adorable cartoon.
Sep 12, 2013
Sep 12, 2013 at 12:48 AM UTC