maybe turn your back
on the glaring light of day
these things could wreck
your mind and make it fray

bile and venom line your lips
a wall you throw up with your tongue
spit it out, make a rip
in the world that stung

laying in the leaves
on the forest floor
outside of a
suburban neighborhood

i am partially high
and closing my eyes
to avoid the brightness
of the sunlight

for what does the
sun mean
if the leaves still fall,
and what purpose
do my feelings serve
if you do not
feel the same
anymore

i thought that maybe
drugs
alcohol
tears
blood
would finally
pack up the last
few pieces
i had left of you
and sweep them
away
like the leaves
i am cradled by
as the oncoming
breeze
of fall
descends upon
the trees

but the high
makes me feel
lower,
and the buzz
just rattles
the crude stitches
i had hand-sewn
onto my heart

i am drowning
in what is left
of you,
even though it is
only a puddle

i am only
awake
enough to feel
the pain

i drunkenly mutter
i loosely scream
i silently cry

no matter
what state
i am in,
whether i am
solid
liquid
wasted
trashed

there is
still
enough of you
left in me
to make
summer
freeze over
and my
heart
stop
with the sudden
change
in temperature

"I'm not pretty"
You say as someone compliments you.
"I'm not pretty"
You say as you step on the scale.
"I'm not pretty"
You say as you try on those new pants.
"I'm not pretty"
You say as you leave to go on that date.
"I'm not pretty..."

...Yes. You are.
My dear, you are wrong.
When was the last time you've really seen yourself
Past that *one pimple
and the stretch marks on your legs?

You seem to have overlooked
That sparkle in your eyes
When you talk about something you love.

Or how graceful your fingers are
as they skim the keys of the piano,
as they run down your arms
clasping your elbows
and your back arches forward when you're embarrassed.

Or your skin,
that could easily rival
the softness of your favorite cashmere sweater
which fits loosely over your torso,
bunching at your elbows
when you do chores with me
after saying I "don't do it right".

Or your feet
that trek across the creeks with me
when we sneak out every Saturday
so you don't have to go to your uncle's house
when your mom leaves to see her friends.

Do you not even see your lips?
Their rosy color,
their fullness?
The pair you bite when you're nervous or frustrated
that are usually a bit chapped
especially in this chilly weather.

My dear,
You are pretty.
You're beautiful.
Stunning.
Immaculate.
Ravishing.
Please don't say otherwise.