There’s no way you didn’t know that what you said would upset me
Everyone keeps reminding me how long we’ve been friends
I wonder if you thought about that at all?
Has anyone said to you that what you said to me wasn’t right?
Has anyone asked you if you could have spared my feelings which were so close to the edge and all they needed was that little nudge from you?

No, probably not. They probably don’t say anything to you.
You haven’t gone back in your head over and over
Replaying everything that happened that day
Thinking about every word that came from your mouth

Well I have
Multiple times and let me tell you
You are a true friend
Because you stabbed me in the front
And in the back at the same time.

Crying is gross
gross and I do it often
often because I have a lot of
emotions and I don't know how to get it out without water pouring from my eyes
eyes that grow red and puffy

puffy is not a good look for me
me I hate crying but I do it
it makes me feel better
better to cry than have no emotion like you

you couldn't even pretend to care
care about our friendship
friendship means something to me but not to you
you won't cry

cry about the fact that I tried
tried to get you to open up and speak to me like an adult
adults talk about things and they also cry

crying may be weakness to you
you were silent
silent because you had nothing to say
say something and open your ******* mouth I wanted to
scream at you

you didn't care
caring about someone is exhausting when they don't care or put in any effort back
back to you I ask you if you have anything to say

say something after listening to me pour my heart out to you
you really have nothing to say
say something so when the tears come later I can say to myself that she tried

tried to mend things
things would never go back to the way they were
were they ever together to being with

with everything I said you just sat there
there's my answer
answer me this, will you cry for me the way I cried for you
you won't because robots don't cry

“I dare you to walk across this broken glass to get to me.” You said
“Why can’t you walk across it to get to me?” I asked
“I don’t want to get cut.” You said
“Neither do I.” I said while walking towards you barefoot.

“I dare you to grab the arrow.” You said
“Why can’t I hold the bow and you hold the arrow?” I asked
“I don’t want to get hurt.” You said
“Neither do I.” I said gripping the arrow as you took a step back.

“I dare you to stand in front of this gun.” You said
“Why don’t you let me hold the gun?” I asked
“I don’t want to get shot.” You said
“Neither do I.” I said placing the barrel to my chest as you put your finger on the trigger.

You have to be careful because I’m a delicate little flower
If you raise your voice
I’ll probably cry
And my petals will get torn
Because the sound of your voice holds a gale force wind
And my hands are too weak to hold on

If I cry that must mean I’m weak right?
Because that’s what crying is it’s weakness leaking out of my eyes
And causing my hands to shake with every breath I push out of my body and every word that comes from my trembling lips sounds like a whisper.

Speaking of whisper you have to be quiet too
All of yours words to me must sound
Like a soft hum
Because as soon as I hear storm clouds come from your mouth
The rain will come from my eyes and fall to ground
At my feet
I can feel the rumble of your voice beneath me
And it makes my heart pound in my ears
And it’s all too loud for a scared little rabbit like me

If I run away that must mean I don’t have the strength to face anything
I probably fall apart like the fabriage egg I crushed in my hand from Piere one Imports when I was a kid (it was an accident) and there’s no way to put me or that egg back together.
Because we are both so **** fragile that one angry glare can cause a crack in me and break everything that I am

I am fragile but I have glue to put myself back together whenever I need to
I cry but I will not let the tears stop me from letting my voice be heard
I can hear thunder in the distance and stand my ground
I am sensitive but I am not weak
Even something as delicate as a flower has thorns

I hope there’s an absence
I hope there’s silence
Where there was once laughter

I hope the silence isn’t filled with anything
I hope it’s deafening
I hope you remember what was there

I hope when you try to drown it out
It doesn’t work
I hope the loudest music sounds like a whisper
I hope your thoughts run rampant in the middle of the night and you have to beg and plead with them to stop running off into the darkest parts of the woods and come back to the light.

Does that make me selfish?
Does that make me wrong?
Do I care?

No, because I shouldn’t be the only one
I hope I’m not the only one.

This bruise on my hand is growing.
I can see it spreading to my other hand
To my arms
Shoulders
Up my neck
Down my chest
Down my stomach
Across my hips
Stretching the length of my legs
And ending at my feet

Who would think that's beautiful?
Who would want to touch someone that's
Dark purple
On the outside
Blue towards the middle
And yellow around the edges

No one
And I shouldn't expect them too

It’s gotten so bad

that I don’t find comfort

In writing.

I don’t want to write

about how I’m feeling

and have complete strangers tell

me they understand

because it

shouldn’t be hard for me

to understand myself or for

family

or my so called friends

but all I hear

is an echo

of i don’t know what to say

or what to do

or it’ll get better.

For who?

For me who’s suffering

or for the people who caused me to suffer

because they no longer have me in

their lives.

Yeah I guess

it did get better for them

I’m glad all the hours i sit in the dark

all the days i don’t come out of my room

the weeks I don’t leave the house are sighs of relief to you while

I choke on the tears that form a lump in my throat and no matter how

many times i try to swallow it

It won’t go away.

It cuts up my vocal cords

so all that is left are blank eyes

On a ghost white face

With dark circles that I fall into

at night instead of sleeping.

In a body that wants to disappear

and mind that wants to destroy itself

-3/29/18

I thought winters cold bitter bite
Was over
I thought the ice that covered everything
Was melting
I thought the layer of frost on the flowers
Was disappearing

I thought the sun would be enough
To make me happy

But there are clouds again
The wind has picked back up
In the cold
My tears turn to ice once more

I had a place to rest my head
A shoulder to lean on
and now I don’t
But I haven’t forgotten the feeling.
— 3/8/18