My scars re-open,
Every time I hear your name,
I wish that they would just heal.

You say you care
You say you love me
But do you really?

What’s my favorite flower?
What’s my favorite color?
What’s my favorite food?

All simple questions you should know
The hesitation when answering them
Proves just how much you know me
You don’t
You have no idea who I am.

What do I wanna do when I graduate?
What college do I wanna go to?
Why isn’t HE in my life anymore?

Harder questions.
You should still know them.
Instantly off the top of your head because…
Because you supposed to love me
Your supposed to care for me
Do you?
I don’t know…

Am I pretty?
Am I smart?
Am I a horrible person?

Questions only you should know.
Questions I don’t even know the answer to
But you do.
Or at least you should.
If you loved me
If you cared about me
You would know…

Get to know me
When you can answer every question I ask
With no hesitation
You will then know me.

All these people around me
They all have their own scars
Their own problem
Their own war
Their own ****

I don’t

My ****
My **** is yours

I don't have my own problems
Yours are mine
Us against the world

I don’t have my own scars
Yours are mine
Sharing is caring, right?

I don't have my own wars
Yours are mine
My ride or die


What's yours is now mine
We're in this together

"give"
They say
And I have
But I can't anymore
All I have left
Is hurt
And my shattered pieces
I refuse to make them bleed

I'm so ******* sorry I'm so broken

She said she felt bad for my father
Because I wasn't speaking to him anymore

Then she read my poems

To be a woman is to be objectified.
Through your eyes,
I am never just a soul wearing skin,
I am only skin. A body.
And this body
has been too thin.
Not thin enough.
Beautiful, but only when it gives you what you want.

I’ve been told to change, to squeeze,
to mold myself into your ideal:
perfect skin, perfect shape,
a perfect everything,
forever growing younger instead of older.

But I don’t need your commentary.
I don’t want your opinions.
Because I don’t need you to want me.
I don’t want to be craved,
I want to be earned.

This body is just a vessel.
My soul is what quenches thirst.
It loves, not to ******, but to nurture.
It builds, it softens, it embellishes your light.

Only the emotionally fluent
and the spiritually grounded
may proceed to touch this mind,
or this body.

I am not for everyone.
Nor do I want to be.

I'm terrified
of finding you dead
by your own small hands.
Though your hands are
almost as big as mine
I fear
the genetic curses
I have been battling
will hit you
and we wont know
until its too late
I'm scared to lose you
even though you are
fine