love is not made of giving and taking in equal parts
it is not a favor for a favor
i owe you nothing

love is not a compromise reached after long deliberation
it is not hurting on Monday
and healing on Tuesday

love is not touching because you will leave if i do not
it is not feigning naivety
when you see me cry

love is not the untimely squandering of innocence
it is not the suffocating grip of guilt
it is not your unwelcome touch

love is not
love is not
love is not

can't breathe
body burning
chest on fire
heart in flames
no oxygen
no breathing
no sounds
no speaking
nothing but
a heart barely beating
burning hot
burning cold
then just cold
stone cold
numb
frozen
suffocating
not from lack of air
from lack of love
lack of life
lack of will to live
lack of happiness
a puzzle in which
i do not fit
suffocating
but not by pillow
not by blanket
not by choice
the things i cannot control
are the things
that are slowly killing me
suffocating me
no one to help me
no one to stop me
no one to save me
no one
just me

A gentle caress of the cheek
A shaky fingertip on the chin
The memories come and go in waves,
but hit with the force of a tsunami flood,
crashing down the barriers I so carelessly built up after you left.

A touch of my neck
sends shivers down my spine,
as I remember your lips brushing gentle skin
exhaling my name into the dark.

Twisted in sheets, tangled in blankets
Racing hands and quick breath
those nights come to me quick,
flashing images through my mind.

Glow of your eyes - you loved me.
Smiles on your face - you meant it.
Pleasure in your body - you showed me.
Grasp of your hand - you watched me laugh.*

I would say I want this nostalgia to stop,
but to be quite honest-
I'm addicted to reminiscing on these thoughts.

The fear of forgetting you
presses ******* all sides
suffocating my mind with images of us.

I hold my shame in the folds of my stomach
as I poke and pinch
and pinch and poke
seeing what I need to fix

I hold my shame in the lines of my stretch marks
as I push and rub
pretending or hoping its just imprints from my jeans

I hold my shame in my scars
as I count and count
they seem innumerous

but it shouldn’t be this way

I should hold my pride in the folds of my stomach
as it tells you that i’m okay

I should hold my pride in the lines of my stretch marks
it tells the story of how my body fought to
keep my emotional mess in

I should hold my pride in my scars
as they are trophies of the times my body has won the battle
against pain, clumsiness, and everything in between

because all I really mean is that my pride is in how I look
not in what you tell me I should change

Here I lay, gazing at the ceiling,
doubting myself,
cringing deep within the pain & failure time has caused,
counting my pulses to break free from the torment,
shielding from the scorn towards life.

Skirmishing to sustain, tussling to see the light on the other side,
just another day, just another night,
screamed the fortitude within,
only for the qualm to ante-up the very next moment.

“I can’t think straight”, declared the mind,
“It hurts”, voiced the heart,
“We are tired”, blared the heart & mind in unison
It’s exhausting that every breath I take is burdened with tangled thoughts,
every attempt to make things better turns fraught.
Should I give up?
Should I put an end to the whole discord?
Will then everything be alright? asked the failed clout.

As the fight within grew tougher,
the tenacity to quash negativity became firmer.
As I crawl through each day to reconcile with my happiness,
my credulity to beat the beast within revived.

I know it isn’t going to be easy,
I know I don’t feel the warmth of a sound mind yet,
I know I don’t feel the shelter of a calm heart yet,
Nevertheless,
there’s a shining hope within that it’s going to be okay.
I am not alone,
I am good enough,
I am strong enough,
I am brave enough,
I am stubborn enough to not give up, not yet,
I can wait one more day, one more night,
start all over again, and again
until I can finally feel at ease to be real and not perfect.

you are not your grades or your scars
your height or your weight
you are not your face or the color of your hair

you are the person you define yourself to be
you are who you want to be
you are not the opinion of the people around you

you are your soul
be it old or young
you have lived many lives
and this is just the beginning

I've seen them come
I've seen them go.
The aftermath
of a heartless show.
They're steps ahead
while you're steps behind.
Their echoing footsteps
your peace of mind.
Rewind, rewind,
rewind, repeat.
Eventually
you're alone with defeat.
Unless you change
your way of thought.
And learn self love
is where love is taught.

Don't you dare look at me with those eyes
You don't own my body anymore
Not these freckles that litter my skin
Or the bruises that ink my calves
Your big blue eyes were never there to fall in love with me
But rather to teach me a lesson
The lesson being that before I fall in love with anyone else
I must first fall in love with myself.