And I'll **** him tonight
Not because I want to
But because I like to make what he likes
And me, who always loved an empty canvas
Felt my heart sink when I realized
That I mold and shift for those I love,
And it’s not so fun when the blank canvas is I.

Ashamed, ashamed—
Like I’m eight but I’m twenty-four.
Ashamed, ashamed,
Like the kid I was before.
Ashamed, ashamed,
Is this what you raised me for?
Ashamed once more.

You make me a little kid,
Just because you think you can.
I’ll always be that child,
That you torture again and again.
Make another joke,
Scream a bit louder,
Say how my brother always makes you prouder.

The same old words,
You’ve said them before—
You make me feel eight at twenty-four.
Say his name, his joy, his love,
Belittle me in front of those I adore.
Push me to the edge one step more,
Maybe I won’t make it to twenty-five,
When you make me feel eight at twenty-four.

Big tears,
for a small, small girl.
Dripping and dropping down
soaking my shirt.

Big tears,
the accumulation of the last few months
that I’ve succeeded in not thinking about—
until now.

And now, there are big tears,
crashing heavily against my chin.
Sliding past my shirt,
encountering my knee.

Tears don’t hurt,
but my ego does,
for letting them out.
The most excruciating months of my life—
and I survived, somehow.

And for the first time I truly wanted
to come out alive and breathe out.
And for the first time
it was hard to keep that vow.

When I wanted to die,
It didn't hurt this bad.
When I wanted to die,
I ate to numb the anxiety,
and then the double of that.

Now I don’t want to die,
but you sure tried to make it so.
And I couldn’t eat
for a week, maybe more.

I’ve spent my life trying to lose twenty pounds—
"About over six months I guess, I'm not so sure".
And in one week
I've lost so much more.

I’ve never felt like this—
like just a corpse.
No reason,
no will,
thinking, “I want to live. I want to move on.”
But there was no beat,
no pulse—
just tears,
because you were gone.
But why?
Why, when you were gone,
suddenly so was I?

And now I’m left with beer,
and such big tears.
They don’t hurt,
but it sure makes hard to breathe.

I write to myself
I'm the one that gets
I write to myself
I'm the only one that cares

I have so much to say
So much to put out there
But nobody wants to listen
I just want to share

A little bit of what's suffocating me
I could record an audio for this
And it would be easier for you to listen than to read
But there's a lump in my throat
No words around here
I lost my voice
So please, would you read?

I don't want to meet
I want to write to you
And asked why you left me
But you don't want to read

And I want to ask my friend's
What is wrong with me
Ask what they think made you leave
But they are too tired to read

And I poured
And poured
And then poured some more
I became too much to handle
To everyone

Everyone I love tells me to "just move on"
But I gave you everything
And then you were gone

I gave you my words
I screamed from the bottom of my throat
But it wasn't enough

I wrote a thousand pleas
Showed every ounce of my soul
And it doesn't make sense to me
When I asked you to stay
You left me on "read"

Imaginary talks
Going around in a spiral
Getting further, but never quite there
I have answers for every question
You have never asked

Imaginary talks
Even when they were real
They were still imaginary
Because the words I longed for
Never left your mouth

Imaginary talks
Because I'm blocked
I keep sending everything to your DMs
In case you see it
But I know you won't

Imaginary talks
Of us today in bed, playing games
While outside, the rain reigns
We loved these kinds of days
But it will never be the same

Imaginary talks
Of what you're saying to her
Now you've replaced me
You're doing so well, doesn't it hurt?

I've met some broken people
Broken in the same way I am
I didn't seek this out
I'm not good at "friends"

But I've met some broken people
Who saw the stitches right where they are
Didn't ask many questions about it
They asked not about my problems, but about me

I've met some broken people
Who made me feel less lonely in my hurt
I'm not special, not the only one
But when I'm cared about
I feel like even a dead star can glow

Some broken people met me
And I didn't make them feel bad about their past
Nor find meanness in their darkness
Because we're broken, our empathy lasts

Four broken people
Coming together to heal a little bit
An afternoon watching movies and playing games
Finding that broken people make my world a better fit

All the poetry I've written about us
Had no love, only hurt.
How did I not see
We were doomed from the first week?
How did I
Ignore what I wrote
And keep myself so blind?
I won't give my heart and words
To another broken soul
For my love was sold to a selfish and bold
Person who broke all that I own.