I think the silent write.
I can't get out a sentence without stuttering
or sounding like a complete idiot.
I can go over a sentence 12 times in my head
but when it comes to saying it,
I am not capable.
but I can put a pen to a piece of paper
and write you a story.
I write because I cannot speak.

Home alone again
He called me and it was all going good
I  finally said "hey I'm not doing to well."
He said "hey I gatta go, dinner is ready."
My heart not only shattered but froze still
I told him how things were
And he ran
Ran away from me
Back to no one
And it scares me so much ******* more
than death

I am the stain blue candy leaves on your tongue
eyeliner slightly smudged from happy tears
bubble gum that popped on your face
and bright paint stains on brown hands.
I am messy handwritten cursive
and glossy red lipstick prints.
I am singing off key and dancing in parking lots.
I am the laughter that makes your stomach ache
and I am the quickening of the heart.
I am gasping for breath
as I am the sweet smell of summer.
I am sunsets without end
and s’mores that leave chocolate on your hands.
I am not clean sheets unless they are a fort
but I am bold ink that bled onto the next page
and sometimes I am broken glass
clear but for your blood on a jagged end.
Sometimes I am sobbing on the shower floor
and exquisite pain that makes your shoulders shake.
I am fists clenched so hard your nails cut your palm,
the cold and powerful waves of a seastorm.
And I am learning that’s okay.
I am not in your box
and I am not yours to define;
I am mine.

I’ll be fine, I guess.
So would you.
How soon
depends
on how we broke.
In half? Rough and jagged at the ends
With you clinging angrily to your end and I to mine?
Angry, stubborn tears stinging
in your eyes or mine
That’d be a while
But you’d be fine. I’d be fine.
Or maybe
the courting of Death
Seductive caresses across my wrists and lips or
something sudden and final
In screeching brakes and the smell of rubber tires
denial
and hollow ringing
as I think for the first time in my life
God, I wish I wasn’t wearing black.
It doesn’t matter.
A fight
An illness
A drifting? eventual (we had nothing left in common)
You’d be fine.
You’d remember me in fleeting moments
Flicking past a space documentary on Netflix
or pausing over a box of creamsicles in the frozen aisle
And I would see you
In the golden yellow hair of a passerby
But it would pass every time
One of us might laugh at the thought once we said
you and me
to the bitter end
That a teenager knew what forever and always was
and chalk it up to youthful naiveness
And we would be fine.
But I don’t want to be fine
I want to be laughing so hard my stomach almost lacerates
Because you know exactly what to say
And I want to be pressing
Kisses to your cheek and passing you hot cocoa
Because today we’re staying in and watching Disney
(singing along to every song of course)
I want to introduce you to everyone
Have you met…?
And tell strangers in the grocery store
About the most wonderful thing you did
And watch them smile kindly
over me gushing about you
across the stacks of tomatoes.
And I want to tell you over the phone about that stranger
So you can say
ew, tomatoes.
I don’t want to be fine, I want to be the kind of ecstatic
That only comes from us
From discussing everything from lipsticks to physics to musicals to dying
From knowing that when I am so tired I can feel it in my soul
You will hold me and let me cry
From believing it will always be us against everything
From living happily ever after
Because what is fine
Compared to this?

A year is not that long
A day is gone in a breath
and you can barely blink in between Mondays.
Four weeks in a month,
and only twelve months this year.
A year is not that long
But a year can change everything.
365 days from now I might be asleep
In your lap at last.
My face in the crook of your neck
and my breathing is slow and deep.
There must be stars in my breath
And forgotten spells in your hair
because this moment is magic.
or maybe you’re sitting on your bed alone
turning over a letter
knowing you shouldn’t do this again
But you trace your hands over the print
Still smooth and undisturbed black
Because you were always careful not to cry
on the last thing you had left
since I never made it home to you.
Maybe you and I hug before we part in the mornings;
we do it every day but it never feels routine.
I remember a hundred times I cried to be held like this
and you squeeze me tight like you’ll never let go
And then we break apart and you smile as I pick up my coffee
because it’s so good to be together.
Or maybe you nod when people say I’m in a better place
and make jokes to crease worry out of their brows.
But at night you send messages to an inactive account
about how much you miss me
and if you could have any miracle it’d be another chance
to make me laugh again.
The messages never read “seen” anymore
Because I’m under six feet of dirt
and typing ellipses are just a memory now.
Maybe you’re worried
because you really need at least a B on that test
but I sneak up behind you with tickles
and you scream that you’ll ****** me
but I get a piggy back ride around the living room instead
Multiple choice and essay questions forgotten.
Or you’re staring at my smile
Fondly remembering how much I complained about braces
But how pretty it is (you won’t say was)
and ignoring the thick ache in your chest
imagining me pressing the shutter button
to capture a selfie
that would last longer than me.
You won’t let yourself think about
how the twinkle in those eyes
will never again exist in this world.
A year is not that long
But a year can change everything.
365 days;
Only God knows what shall come.

Wake up late
Run to the bus
Finish up school
Do homework on the bus
Walk (kick, wander, jump, skip) home
The days are as simple as those 5 steps but when the night creeps In the doorway with me, arriving home at 6pm,
I feel the wollow of worthlesness
As if I am weightless
Absolutely empty.
What is my worth to this world?
Thought about it a million times.
And I am truly a nothing
But those 5 steps

People always say
"Music keeps me sane."
But I don't get the random urge to kick those rocks when my phone is dead getting off the bus at 6pm,
The cry to selfharm is not only called through my mind
but when I'm listening to the screaming of friendly monsters
I run to the blade quicker.
Music keeps me insane.