Lost
was what I was
before I met you
and your touch;
before your eyes
met mine
in a long embrace;
before I knew
what warmth really was--
the kind that burns
your soul

I found so much
of who I was
while locked within your arms
but here I am
lost yet again
within the essence
of who you are

If I die
Who would miss me
Mom?
No she doesn't trust me
Dad?
Jordan was always the favorite
Tash?
He always hated me
Allie?
She always did to
Jordan?
He probably would
Samantha?
I hope she would
All these people
All my friends
My family
All have
At least one thing
Against me
But who
Would miss me
A piece of southern trash
Good for nothing
Good at nothing
Samantha deserves someone better
So does destine
I'm not good enough
I never was
I never will be
I was a fool to think I was
Nobody would miss me
I'm sorry
To everyone
I've hurt you all
And now I see it
And I'm sickened by myself
I love Samantha and Destine
But I'm not good enough
So if I did die
Who would miss me?

Run your fingers through my soul.
For once, just once,
Feel exactly what I feel,
Believe what I believe,
Perceive as I perceive,
Look, experience, examine
And just for once,
Just once
Understand.

When I die
I’ll kiss the sky
and know at last for sure
if God is real
and if I’ll feel
a thing once through that door.

I’ll think of you
and wish to do
the things we did before
but know that I
had wished to die
and I would wish no more.

If I regret
the fate I’ve met
stone cold upon the floor
I might cry
for years gone by
but still have died a *****.

This world is filled with
blue and black and red
and yet we’re raised to see it in grey.
This world is filled with wonders,
with mountains and oceans and plains,
and yet people focus on personal flaws.

My body is a landscape.

My thighs are road maps
to all the darkest parts of me.
These crisscrossing lines and curves
will show you where I’ve been.
There are some with similar maps
traced over skin in small bumps and ditches.
Yet I can’t even wear shorts in public
without people staring.

My body is a landscape.

I feel no guilt for this landscape,
and the ways in which I’ve marred it,
so I dress as I like, heedless of the stares.
But the moment I see someone’s eyes stop,
see someone’s expression change--
that is when I feel shame.

My body is a landscape.