The air is warm like the sand on the beach we walk on, my hand is rough intertwined with yours, like the words you speak to me, your smile is bright, like the light in my eyes when I look forth to see you, August evenings, January dinning, I’m in love with you and I hear you crying, let me hold on, let me keep these August evenings in my heart, don’t break my whole life apart, but if need be, leave me and break my soul into pieces of shattered glass, as long as these August evenings will so last.

Yes, I am fifteen, yes I’m young, but the pain? She’s old. The pain is old in a new soul, tossed through bodies of my family tree. I’m young and I’m old, my soul is fresh my agony is deep and withering within the depths of my mind. I will take every last bit of pain till the water is clean and my seeds are pure. I will take it all away so that you my future dear will never have to live this way.

When you pushed me onto the bed, your hands roaming, reaching a goal, breath twisted with alcohol, shivered in pain, stood up, tried to breathe, tried to leave, kissed my innocence and left me feeling at blame. Scared in the school hallways, rumours ran towards me and away from you, police questioned me and watched you walk to class while I walked into an interview. “Did you say no?” Did I? No. You can’t talk when you can’t breathe.

Dad, you took you’re own life, because of your sadness, but like a disease your sadness will only get passed on, it doesn’t end, are you even gone? Are you talking to me when the lights flicker at 12 am? Is that you making me feel safe in the cold night, walking me home in the cold winter? You are not gone.

You call me puppy because “I’m pouty and adorable.” But you say you’ll discipline me if I need it. Deep in my stomach your words always give me butterflies, I love you. -your puppy.

Do you ever just think about death? Like it can happen anytime anywhere and you don’t have any control over it but yet you do?

Is it bad that all of my poems are about the way you hurt me?

Is it bad that now you want me again?

Is it bad that I never not wanted you?

Is it bad that even though you caused me so much pain, I’m willing to throw away all the progress and countless hours of picking the broken pieces of my heart up?

Is it bad that im willing to let you come back to your place in my heart even, when I know you’ll leave it empty again?