When the girl, I loved, died,
I locked myself in her room
while her parents were in Arizona.

I went through her things
and found
**** photos;
A few where she seemed
ashamed
and a few where she
liked her body.
She had a gummy smile
and in others
she looked down at her *******
while having a blank expression.

I found empty
alcohol bottles.
Cheap bottles of wine
and a bottle of red,
stuffed with tissue paper.

Under her dresser
I found an unopened
letter she intended to
give the boyfriend before me,
where she admitted
to being ***** as a teenager
and how she hoped
it wasn't too much
baggage.

I threw out the photos
and
alcohol bottles,
but not the letter.

I don't know why but I kept it.
I occasionally read it,
because it's her,
and I love her.

I told my friend
and he called me a
Halomaker,
because I made sure
she was remembered
as an angel.

the white crane
with paper wings
like paper planes
sails up above
and down
the muddy milky brown
it changes flight
goes out of sight
but its peace
will never leave me

That girl in your class
She laughs
She has a smile that lights up
An entire room.

That girl in your class,
She has great grades,
She doesn't even have to try.

That girl in your class,
She has seemingly amazing friends,
Who care about her.

That girl in your class,
She has scars,
Lines marking her body,
And friends that don't notice,
And some that don't care.

That girl in your class,
Doesn't remember
What's like to not cry,
She cries herself to sleep
Every night.

But hey, she smiles,
So she's okay.
Right?

Days of endless struggle
More hopeful pills today
Trying to appear 'normal'
In some sort of way.

It seems that the struggle
Is always here with me
And I wouldn't be here now
If guilt would leave me be

I know there's been many
Who've had it worse than I
But that doesn't always mean
That I wouldn't say good-bye

People say I have a lot going for me
I'm sorry, but I just can't see
I can't see because my worst enemy
Is not my life, but inside of me.

Always on a roller coaster,
Not much consistency
I'm nothing if I'm not up or down
I'm nothing if just 'me.'

Very little energy
Wanting to stay in bed
Wishing to be enthusiastic
Instead of feeling like I'm made of lead.

Wanting to be excited
Wanting to care for more
But when nothing makes sense
It's hard to focus on the poor.

Cluttered mind, cluttered thinking
It's hard to keep in touch
With what is happening around me
And not to worry too much.

I feel that everybody is better than me
And that I can't do anything right.
This is how I've felt my whole dang life
It didn't just start last night.

No confidence, no self-esteem
Everybody else is right
To speak my mind is to be a fool
So I just try to 'sit tight.'

Any one of these problems
Would be a heavy vice
But when you have them ALL
Living seems like a roll of the dice.

because please tell me how i am supposed to trust with all i've heard,
trust with the words you spoke of
turning bodies into jokes and filling my ears with words that have nothing more than an intention of being evil,
laughing and talking words of some of my own insecurities

please tell me how i am supposed to trust when all the men i have ever had to deal with have turned their backs,
physical abuse or emotional
smacking me in the face with their hand or their words,
regretting me and pushing me off,
acting as though i was nothing but an ugly girl or just a needy little fool begging for their love

change my mind and please prove to me that not all men with leave me crying a countless number of tears,
countless hours of me too hurt to get up and move from the spot they left me laying at,
reminiscing on the words they spoke to me;
their daughter or their ex

i am wounded by a number of men
and you scream to me to trust you,
you scream to me that you would never ever do anything to hurt me,
even when we part,
you want me to trust you
and i cannot find myself to it

because darling,
if you try to trust one after another
and they all seem to break it the same,
how can you find yourself to trust again?

The Songs of old birds in cold worlds warm hearts of women where men have left.

Past wars still brewing in the brain making stews of despair he shares only with himself suffocating without breath his heart
infested with death as
The blood of foes
Is still staining
his hands

She holds him
as though an infant
trembling in fear of his
own ghost she assures him
with a kiss of hope that life is
still worth living and all else is
forgiven and all else is forgiven

my wrists still hurt more from your rough hands
pinning me to the floor,
than anything I've ever done to them before.

my head still aches more from screaming,
rather than by an old concussion lingering.

my eyes still cry and leak over,
but I'm not sure why anymore.

But as long as it's don't ask, don't tell,
I'll be fine.

Fragile thoughts;
Fractured dream;
Her graceful smile..
And the wounds heal.