"I'm just tired..."
Excuse one for the silence that ensues.
She listens as he tells her he refuses to hurt her
...even though she aches as the words leave his lips.
Triple chocolate chocolate chip frosting is all she wants.

"I didn't sleep well..."
Excuse two for the agitated responses.
Her best friend has distanced herself
...but expects her to just sit by and wait to be wanted again.
Triple chocolate chocolate chip frosting gags her.

"It was a rough night..."
Excuse three for the silent tears that stream down her face.
Her father tells her she's a spoiled, stupid *****
...but acts like he's a genius that's greater than God.
Food loses its appeal entirely.

"I don't need a mirror to see myself..."
Excuse four for her avoidance of reflective surfaces.
Her mirror has become her worst enemy
...reflecting her flaws and screaming her issues.
She no longer has an appetite.

"I'm fine"
Excuse five... and six for all the things she does in a day.
She's breaking, crying, and dying
...but its been repeated so many times her friends have begun to believe it.
Food now makes her want to throw up.

"Excuses, Excuses"*
seven, eight, nine, ten for all the things she needs to deny
her mask of a smile makes everyone believe them all
...no one realizing how unhappy she is
she eats...but only because she doesn't want them to worry.

“Never trust a ginger”
she sings giggling looking at the red head next to me.
Her song is a pretty good representation of our friendship.
Throw in a ***** bump and some dorky dance moves
oh yea
that’s the definition of our friendship.
Laughing and dying at things no one else gets
actions no one else see’s
and mouthed words no one else understands.
That’s just a little inside view of our *“love”.

“Never kiss a ginger”
It’s a little late for that don’t ya think
blackberry tea and coffee making her laugh till she dies.
Hysterics that break her down till she’s on the floor rolling
rolling down a hill and being so dizzy she can’t get up.
Oh but she’s a monster that chases you around
trying to tackle you to the ground.
Falling off the playground rail and hitting her head
just like in our story
so she lays there laughing hysterically.
All I can do is shake my head

“Never kiss a ginger…twice”
yea that’s a little better.
he won’t be telling my slightly stunned, amazed face its cute again.
The face we later joked about
mouth dropped to the floor
eyes wide.
Like did that seriously just happen.
Our dumb and quirky reactions to everything
exaggerated, excited yeses
and happy little dances.


"Never date a ginger”
I’m not nor have I ever…
where do you get these thoughts that run through your head?
Ok I can’t say much
my mind wanders to the strangest places
and leads us to the greatest conversations.
Like cops on bikes with prisoners in baskets
leading to Mortal Instruments characters all riding one bike.
I’ve no idea where our minds get these strange ideas and imaginings.

“Never love a ginger”
I never said I love him
don’t let your mind wander
dangerous things happen when our minds wander
anywhere from dinosaurs ruling the world to death
and the things in between are sometimes worse to think about

“Never like a ginger”
OI!
with this again
I don’t I promise there’s nothing there
now please shut up.
Yes, yes I love you now please don’t attack my legs again
I really don’t feel like falling on the floor
it’s not very appealing.
Uh-oh

They call me a ****
Tell me I’m a *****
That I’m fat
And that I’m ugly.
Yet they don’t know that when I go home
I hear it all again.
The students voices echo in my mind.
The long sleeves I wear to school
even in 90 degree weather
covers the scars.
I try to become invisible,
to walk by unnoticed,
but it never works.
They sense my presence and lash out at me,
Like a wolf on it’s prey.
I go home and cry myself to sleep.
Every night their words echo in my ears,
never going away.
Messages with the same words heard every day.
Suggestions of killing myself.
It wouldn’t make much difference
Just one less person crowding the halls.
One less person silently screaming inside.
One less person to believe I’m worthless.
Tears stream down my face as she ***** the gun.
The song that originally saved my life begins to play.
I close my eyes,
and with a deep breath he pulls the trigger.
The only thing left of me being the note that I wrote.
“I’m sorry...I can’t do this anymore”
with blood splattered across the pages.

She paints her hips the color of her blood
the way she paints the water light blues and greens.
Except the cuts on her skin aren’t beautiful
not like the trees and branches in the painting for her sister.
That razor hitting her skin and spilling her blood
it’s far different from her paintbrush hitting the canvas and spilling paint.

She etches her skin with this blade
the way he etched his lungs with smoke.
One is visible to the eye if only they look
The other is hidden and can’t be seen.
Both are deadly
but one of them stopped and the other has not.

The numbness takes over leaving her cold
She lays on the bed staring at the ceiling feeling nothing.
The girl hates it so she grabs that blade and finds a new spot to cut.
She winces as the blood begins to drip down her hip
and feelings begin to form in her chest again.
The feeling may be pain,
but to her anything is better than nothing.

The girl knows she needs to stop
she knows that on her hips
there are no beautiful pictures in blues and greens
but tragic stories written in nothing but blood.
The tale of a girl who would rather live in pain
than die in numbness.

Mr. Know It All
Who do you think you are?
You speak like you know everything
when it’s obvious you know nothing.
You act like you’re some kind of genius
but all you are is a freaking alcoholic.

Mr. Know It All
You seem to think you’re Christopher Langan
the man considered to be the smartest in America.
In high school he taught himself things
such as
advanced math, physics, philosophy, Latin and Greek
he allegedly got 100% on his SAT.

Mr. Know It All
What were your accomplishments?
You dropped out of high school your senior year
You started smoking and drinking when you were 15.
You led one daughter to suicide
and you treat the other like she’s an idiot.

Mr. Know It All
Are you Kim Ung-Yong in your mind?
He could read
Korean, Japanese, English and German
by the time he was three.
Moved to America to work at NASA
when he was eight.

Mr Know It All
You’re forty-four
and you can’t even speak one other language
let alone four.
You’ve never worked at NASA
you work in a warehouse.

Mr. Know It All
You are not a genius
you are an alcoholic
you have little accomplishments
and the tragedies you cause out weigh
them by tons.

Mr. Know It All
Give up and shut up
we don’t want to hear it.
Stop drinking
you’re quieter when you’re sober
and we like the quiet.

Mr. Know it All*
The words coming from your mouth
are not intelligent,
and I’m done listening to them.
Goodbye and have a great life.

His jealousy is like a poison in my blood
I can feel my limbs getting heavy
in my attempts to ease it
but it just gets stronger.
My limbs are like dead weight
sinking sinking deeper
drowning in the water
unable to rise
unable to feel.
I fall to the ground
so deep I can feel the hounds of hell breathing
breathing me in
the way I breathed in the smell of my coffee
the smell of his blackberry tea.
He prefers tea to coffee
it has a better taste to him
he only likes iced coffee.
His presence has gone silent
he no longer speaks.
I don’t hear from him
he’s done
he just disappeared.
It’s like it never happened.
I never watched him play
with his tea cup after it was gone.
He never kissed me.
He kissed me...
Maybe he did have a right to be jealous of him.
Maybe it made sense...
I just don’t know.
I wish his presence would come back.
I enjoy talking to him
seeing him
being around him.
But I also enjoy being around the other.
How can I expect him to not be jealous
when I know how he feels,
but I still tell him when I hang out with another guy?
Like Eli and his blackberry tea
his blackberry tea and my coffee.
My coffee I sipped at to make the moment last longer.
I’d been so scared he wouldn’t like me.
I was already wondering why he wanted to hang out with me
he’s a freshman in college I'm a sophomore in high school.
The only conversations we had before then
was always about poetry
poetry
poetry
poetry.
But what did I do?
Why did he just stop?
All I did was say I couldn’t hang out that night.
He asked at eleven at night.
I was already lounging around.
I was watching movies.
I had to work in the morning.
Why did he wait till eleven at night to ask?
I was free all day
but he waits till its dark and I can’t leave.
Why does that give him reason to ignore me?
I guess two can play at that game
but its a little harder on my end.
When you’re already being ignored its hard to ignore them
especially when you just want them to talk to you.
Talk to me.
Talk to you.
What am I talking about?
If he messaged right now
we all know I’d answer.
What’s a girl to do
when she wants to be around the person
that’s ignoring her?
Before you ask
no, I don’t like him like that
at least I don’t think
I don’t know.
I don’t know what I think.
I don’t know anything.
I don’t know me.
I don’t know you.
I don’t know her .
and I apparently don’t know him either.
But I know the other.
He’s still there
watching quietly in his jealous stupor.
He’s still talking to me
but that has made no difference.
Especially when he quotes my own poems back to me
“‘This inexpressible, uncontrollable feeling’
for you
you
only you
no one else
just you”
I don’t know how to respond to that.
how does he expect me to respond?
I don’t even know anymore!

I was told I'm the problem with society.
That the baby in my stomach was a mistake
and that I should be ashamed.
People cast their eyes away
...or they stare.
The judgment on their faces
and the whispers in their voices
cut my heart to pieces,
But none of their looks
or words
can make me love this baby any less.

I know that I'm young,
but it is part of me
just like it would be if I were older.
They say age is just a number
only when it comes to certain relationships though,
because if you're 17 and pregnant
age becomes important
and people become judgmental.

I was told I'm the problem with society.
That the baby in my stomach was a mistake
and that I should be ashamed.
But I'm not
and yes this baby was unplanned,
but that doesn't mean it is a mistake.
This baby is my happy accident
and my  life will change,
but I do not and will not regret
my beautiful,
happy,
accident.

2 years ago I wrote a poem about Cat Woman
2 years from then it still hurts to think about.
You see,
2 seconds
turned to 2 minutes
turned to 2 hours
turned to 2 days
turned to 2 months
and now it’s turned to 2 years.
They say it gets better
when you lose a loved one.
They say you can get over it.
How is that true though,
when on her birthday I can’t help but cry?
When on the anniversary I work with tears in my eyes
avoiding looks from my coworkers
just to keep my pain hidden inside?
Even just days like my birthday I think of her.
2 years will turn into 4 years
to 6 to 8 to 10 years and things will never change.
I listened to my grandmothers breathing
Cat Woman playing on the tv in the background
her breathing slowing.
On days like today I think of her
and I sit here
and I write this poem with tears in my eyes.
and it hurts so much when she’s on my mind.
I miss her everyday
and while there are days it is easier
There are also days where it’s difficult just to get out of my bed
get up without crying and hold myself together.
It still hurts to think about
Cat Woman from 2 years ago.

He has a hold over me
and he shouldn’t.
I have a new boyfriend
and he may not always treat me right
but he’s there.
He has been someone that’s been with me for 9 months
and he says he loves me
but I don’t think I can ever love him
when I believe my heart still belongs to someone else.
I don’t know where my someone else stands
when he thinks of me.
The words “I love you” has passed his lips,
but it has been months since he told me that
and I think that feeling has been extinguished
and it kills me to think that it has.
See I never told him
and I feel like I should have
now I believe it to be too late
as he is trying to move on
and I have three words left unspoken
“I love you”
and I don’t know if that is an accurate word
but when I see him I want to be around him
when I hug him my heart beats faster
and when I think of him moving on
my chest aches.
He recently said that even though we’re hurting each other now
we can make each other happy
and I don’t know what that means or what he’s saying
when he is losing feeling for me.
And maybe right now we’re not meant to be together
and in the future it’s possible
but I don’t see him keeping me in his heart or on his mind
when he has created a “thing”
(whatever that’s supposed to mean)
with one of his best friends younger sister.
And if I ever show up dead
it is safe to assume that he has moved on without me
and heart break syndrome caught up
and my heart that seems to beat for him stopped
and never started again.

I can’t see the things you say.
You say that you care and that you love me,
but when I’m around you I feel useless ... worthless.
I have few things in this world that make my life worth living
and those are the things that you threaten to take away
that you threaten to get rid of.
I have cuts on my hips that you have never seen.
That you have never known about.
And when i look at them I see your name.
Oh, but don’t worry I see my father’s name as well.
They appear because it’s the only way I can feel
something other than worthless after speaking with you.
You don’t understand that when you yell
when you tell me I’m not even trying
that you ‘ll take away the only things that keep me alive
I feel horrible.
I feel worthless.
I feel like I don’t matter and that I never have.
You want me to be my sister…
you want me to be you,
but I can’t change who I am.
I am my own person and I guess that isn’t a good thing
at least not in this family.
You carried me for nine months
you gave birth to me.
you raised me.
But you shove me down and take my life away
because it doesn’t suit the way you want things.
The way you want me to be.
I’m sorry I have an opinion that’s not yours
and that I fight for what I believe and think
rather than submitting to your will.
I’m sorry I’m not good enough for you.
I’m sorry that you ever had a second daughter.
I’m sorry I’m here.
I’m sorry...

She believed in magic
that rainbows lead to gold and leprechauns
that santa came to her on Christmas eve
the tooth fairy traded her money for her teeth
the Easter bunny left the eggs
that Jack Frost would come nipping at her nose.
She believed in everything.
She brought spirit to the world.

Then she got older
she no longer believes in magic
its just a trick of the eye
she's followed a rainbow and found disappointment.
there was no gold, no leprechaun.
Her faith in santa dissipated
he’s just imaginary.
She’s lost all her baby teeth
the fairy stopped coming long before that.
Easter is just another day to live
the eggs were no longer hidden they were all gone.
Jack Frost has lost his significance
she welcomes his frosty touch.

As she got older reality slammed into her
all the things that brought her joy as a child were gone

They died with him.

Her father.

When he disappeared from the world so did the magic
The Leprechauns lost all their gold
North and his elves all froze in the Pole
Toothiana lost her fasination with teeth
Bunnymunds eggs all cracked
but,

Jack Frost still lingers
Coming around every winter
leaving the roads icy and the trees dead.
During the first snow she always remembers his warning
“Bundle up or Jack Frost will come to get you.”
She now embraces the chill of Jack Frost.
He brings the numbness she so craves and can only get during the winter.
He brings the cold that freezes everything inside her.
He brings her closer to him with every snow and cold breeze.

He brings her closer.

I said I stand precariously close to the edge
but I almost feel like I've already fallen.
I'm falling and you've yet to decide
if I'll meet my death
or the glorious waves of the ocean.
I can see the black rocks beckoning me
and the pink ocean drawing me closer.
But with these words falling from your lips
like poison in your kisses
the wind flings me into the path of my death.
I brace for impact knowing I've made a mistake
but the only thing I feel is the gentle caress of your hand
as you pull me back to the edge of the cliff
back to you.
Over and over again I fall
and over and over again you pull me back up.
Pull me to your warm embrace and hold me close
and every time you let me take that step off
that could mean death and every time time your words
push and pull me closer to the black abyss.
Why can't I ever feel the warm spray
of that beautiful ocean on my fingertips?
I just wish that for once the warm pink ocean would embrace me
the way your arms do.
I wish my heart would let me walk away
...that you would jump off that cliff with me just once.
So that just once I could feel the embrace of the ocean
that's so like your arms when you hold me.

It crawls underneath your skin.
Distracts you from your friends
from your life.
You can’t help but scratch it.
Your friends try to stop you.
They pull your hands away
the skin on your wrist,
arms,
and legs,
are already red from your nails
they don’t want your skin like paper to tear.
They don’t want to see your blood drip out like paint off a brush.
You can’t help it
that itch is so demanding
it demands to be scratched
no matter where it travels to.
Your wrist becomes bright red with marks from your nails.
Your legs have red splotches over them from digging your nails
into your skin harder to itch through your jeans.
Your arms have red splotches traveling up them
and under the sleeve of your shirt.
Your face is sensitive from your nails digging into it so often.
You can’t win!
The itch doesn’t go away no matter how long you scratch.
It drives you insane.
It won’t leave,
I’m going insane.
The itch is so persistent!
I think I might need some calamine lotion…
Maybe some Benadryl...

The hatred we always feel
especially when things aren’t real.
Destroys our minds and kills our souls
leaving our bones filled with holes.
making our broken beings impossible to heal.

The wrinkles etched in her face
are like memories etched in my mind.
Cat Woman played in the background
as the sound of my grandmothers breaths echoed behind me.
Her breaths two seconds apart
two seconds longer I knew she was still here,
two seconds I still had her,
just two seconds longer.
We watched slowly as cat woman came to find her killer
Grandma came to find her last breath.
2 seconds,
3 seconds,
Cat woman wakes to find jewels spread across her bed
and Grandmas breaths began to slow.
4 seconds,
5 seconds,
as cat woman goes to see the lady with all the cats
Grandmas breaths get further apart.
6 seconds
.................
nothing.
As Patience accepts that she's cat woman
Grandmas breaths officially stop.
While Cat Woman leaps and bounds through life to find her killer in the movie
Grandma is taken from me in real life.
With her heart stopping as the doctors prayer ends.
6 seconds
turns to minutes
turns to hours
turns to days
and still every time I close my eyes I see it.
See her chest stop rising
her legs stop twitching
and her heart stop beating.
When it gets too quiet
I can hear her ragged breaths stop
the not so silent room
as we cried and cat woman found her **** as noise in the background.
Now the wrinkles etched in her face
like memories etched in my mind
are just that...memories.
Now she is a memory.
Forever on my mind
Forever in my heart.
R.I.P Grandma
I love you

His eyes
blue like the ocean
burn me to the core.

His lips
speaking words like fire
that wash over me in a wave of glorious torture.

His voice
like a soothing melody
that sets me off like a balloon loosing helium.

His hands
soft to the touch
but rough in the places he touches me.

His name
like a curse on their tongues
but like a dream passing my lips.

He
is like an anchor keeping my feet on the ground
yet he's the wind under my wings keeping my head in the clouds.

Where other couples have songs
we had a movie.
A movie that we were watching;
when you first asked me out,
when you first kissed me.
I used to think our movie was ironic
a horror movie
to represent a happy relationship.
Now I'm wondering
if it was a sign of the destruction you'd cause.
Remind me to pay attention to the things
that represent a relationship.
Those things can show how the relationship will end.
And I'd rather it end like Beauty and the Beast
than Insidious...

I,
have issues.
But probably not the kind you think.
Mine were created by my father and big sister.
By their relationship.
I have strived for a better relationship
to be better at everything than her.
But I've given up.
I no longer see the point
When you're sixteen years old
And you're more mature than your forty-three year old father.
Even so I'm terrified I'll end up like my sister.
Albeit she's doing well now
She's a teacher and is happy
and, she hates our fathers guts.
I don't blame her though
when you're father calls you a *****
And accuses you of sleeping around
because you go to school early to get help.
I can see why.
It doesn't help when he sides with his sister-in-law
And he tells you to "respect your elders"
even though she tried to burn you with a firework.
I do blame her however
for that dark cloud over my birthday.
See the night I turned ten
she took those pills.
She drank that strawberry Hill Boonesfarm.
She tried to **** herself.
But see I'm the only one who remembers the date
I remember every detail of that night.
Every image
Every feeling,
Everything.
I remember the red and blue flashing lights.
I remember the gurney
I remember the cold of the night,
until I went numb that is.
I have no respect for my father
when you do that to a child how could you.
But I am terrified of that.
Terrified I'll end up like her
that I'll break
that I'll be the one on the floor unconscious.
He was trying to do better
but I think he's given up too.
And while my greatest fear is that I'll be like my sister.
My second greatest
is that I'll end up with someone like my father.

I’ve lost myself.
I no longer know who I am
and I’ve looked at all those poems I had to write in English
you know the ones
the acrostic poems where teacher makes you use your name as the word
and the lines off the letters are supposed to describe you.
Yet I don’t see myself as that person anymore.
I sign my name as Paige Swanson
it’s the name on my birth certificate the one my mother decided on.
Paige is the name I respond to
Swanson is the name I sometimes despise.
Thats changed over time though,
because when I was younger I liked my last name and despised my middle.
I’ve reached high school and the only thing unique about me
about my entire name is the middle one.
Bobette.
It’s the name that people don’t expect and don’t believe
at least not the first time I say and spell it.
Bobette.
The name I decided to use to find words that people think describe me.
I don’t know who I am so I’m trying to find out through my friends.
Through my middle name.
B - Beautiful…or so my best friend and boyfriend say.
Beautiful not just face and body but soul and mind.
Beautiful words in writing
and paintings on canvas.
O - Observant… I notice and remember the little things
the chain on someones necklace being messed up
when someones makeup is smudged.
Other peoples feelings
more so than my own.
B - Bereaved as I’m still missing my grandmother
my pets
my old friends
and when I used to know who I am.
E - Electrifying for my personality
for my looks
and attitude
or maybe just because I have a tendency to shock people.
T - Ticklish not that you get to know where
and as my boyfriend has learned in the past 2 months
tickling me can lead to 1 of 2 things.
Either an extreme act of violence or kissing. (at least when it comes to him)
T - Tender even though I may not always seem like it
as I’m the friend and girlfriend that playfully hits you
but as soon as you’re actually hurt or upset
I’m there to try and help take the pain away.
E - Entrancing as I apparently distract people
or did they say enthralling as I keep peoples attention
no I think it was Enchanting as like a fairytale my personality keeps people watching
wait…those words all mean the same thing…never mind.
Bobette.
The only unique part of my name…of me
and I’ve used it to find who I am
but all I’ve done is find words that people think describe me.
Not who I am
and I think I’m more confused now than I was to begin with
So I have a question…
Can someone tell me who I am?
Cause I have no idea anymore.

The Love We Had Before

Where is it?
It was there before...
before we broke
before we burned
before our foolish ways destroyed us.
Why can’t we find it again
in search we crash into each other
destroying us further
never mending
always breaking.
Where is the love we had before?

You Gave Me A Promise

What is the end if not this.
You don’t speak the words you once promised.
My hope is there but I don’t know why
There is no hope left
yet I can’t stand as I’m hearing your promise again.
I’m holding and waiting and you’re promise is gone
but I’m not giving up
I need you and I can’t reach you
it’s like a torture thats turning me against myself.

Wrapped In Your Arms**

I used to walk alone
but now I’m here to stay
unable to move away
not wanting to leave your side
not wanting to be alone.

I can see clearer looking through your eyes
than I ever have looking through my own
but I can’t help but love the view I have
the view I have when looking at you through mine.

I’m home and I’m here to stay.
You cradle and protect me
and I know I’ll never be safer anywhere
other than you’re arms.

The red and blue lights flash
waking up to a commotion
my sister on a gurney
I don't know this emotion.

The silence is screaming
as the house grows cold
I don't know what to do
I was left alone.

She's in the hospital
her stomach was pumped
I don't know what to say
I'm in a slump.

I made a promise
to never be
the parent who
acts like he.

Things are better
she's a teacher now
I can't look at her though
without thinking of my vow...

The bright, yellow paint is chipping.
The  ivy vines are climbing the walls.
The war had started and it was abandoned.
A once beautiful house neglected in fear.

The windows are broken
and the door is hanging by one hinge.
A tornado had come through here.
A tornado of men, guns and turmoil.

Clothes were strewn across the house
Antiques were shattered on the floor.
The war had killed the beauty of this house,
but had enhanced the tortures of its story
The story of a peaceful family.

A table flipped and dinnerware on the ground.
A teenage boy dead on the floor.
****** handprints on the walls and bullet holes in the stairs.
A broken railing and a dead man at the top.
Shot gun shells and holes in the destroyed door.
A woman lay dead by the edge of a cradle.
The mothers blood slicked down the edge of the bassinet
A blood soaked mattress
And a baby that lay unmoving with a torn and ****** onesie.

The destruction of this war is terrifying
and the World War 2 veteran can’t erase the scenes from his mind.
They stick with him as he ages until the day he joins the peaceful family
in the land of the dead.

Broken
laying among the shards.
The pieces of my being
the pieces I took and destroyed
just so I could be with you for one more day.

I'm sorry.
I'm sorry I couldn't stay.
The house we built together
strong in the beginning was blown away
with so much wear and tear that it could no longer stand.

The foundation cracked in December.
The fights didn't stop,
days and weeks they'd go on,
but you fixed it with an "I'm sorry" and a hug.

In January the pipes burst.
The tears in my eyes were a constant thing
you didn't see them and just kissed me with a smile.
The house flooded.

By February the walls began to rot and the ceilings were caving in.
You tried to repair what you broke,
and were so oblivious you thought you did,
but they're wrong when they say duck tape can fix everything.

March you stood outside the door in the light.
You tried to lock me in the house with no escape.
"You don't tear down a house, because of a busted lightbulb,"
but the walls were falling and the ceiling was slowly becoming the floor.

I couldn't stay in a house waiting to **** me.
You locked me in as tight as you could,
but the windows were weak and I broke out.
And as much as you hated to see it,
I lit the match and watched that crumbling house burn to the ground.

So I'm sorry your heart is now broken
and burned down with that crippled house.
I'm thinking of myself now
and I'm sorry to say that my happiness
is more important than you being in my life.

“what is love?”
processing
processing
processing
*******.
Feelings are fantasy

But Triston if that were true
then why do I have this pain pumping through my veins
from the sight of their hands intertwined
and I don’t understand how i’m suppose to be smiling
when he’s holding her in his arms

“I’m sorry Doctor,” you  said, “don’t let Horton hear my tears slip out
I’m running out of things to be smiling about.”
And I understood before
but I know even more now just by looking
at his smile directed at her

Triston I respect how open you are
so I’m sorry but I’m stealing another line
"I wish you could see
that I want nothing more than to openly love you
and put nothing else above you,
but maybe I shouldn’t”

Maybe I should put me above you
and leave you alone with her
give you time to realize what you lost
when you chose her over me

You think i’m fine because of the smile upon my face
but why can’t you see
that i’ve patched up my skin, and I’m bleeding again
Bleeding out the memories
of the smile in your eyes and the words that resonate in my mind

I can’t close my eyes to go to sleep
cause you’re in every ******* dream
The image of you with your clothes clinging to your body
as the rain soaks through
destroying my makeup and beauty
but leaving you more perfect than ever

Reflecting I can’t help but wonder
If the rain was stealing my beauty to show me a god.
No not a god but a demon
with a beautiful white rose

The flower of innocence and purity
now struck down by the black of your soul
and no one but I can see
The one white flower spattered with tears
that now lays dying at your feet

Because of you
My imagination has now undermined Emma’s words
where she once said “daydreams are Heaven”
No daydreams are hell
The image of you has penetrated my mind so deep
that no matter what I do I can’t get it out

Music is my salvation from the devastation in my mind
Its as if its a capsule thats captured the ruptured beating of my heart
now with every last bit of heart I have left to give
I’m begging you,
to leave.

I’ve begun to pick up the broken pieces
of my heart.
It’s a slow process but
it gets easier every day.
Every tear that doesn’t fall
every time I smile
every time I laugh
its a win.

A win for the broken people
the beings that seem so whole on the outside
no one digs any deeper to find the
broken person on the inside.

A win for the people hurting
the ones that cry themselves to sleep at night
because of the loneliness they feel
even in a group of people.

A win for those whose greatest enemy is the mirror
the ones that can’t look at their reflection
without feeling some form of hatred
for what they see.

A win for the people who sat in bed
staring at those pills
debating on if it was worth it
if anyone would care.

A win for the people who stayed up all night
talking their best friend out of those pills
convincing them that they’re worth it
that they’re loved.

A win for every broken person
that hides their true feelings.
that cries themselves to sleep at night,
whose worst enemy is the mirror hanging in their room
the one’s that didn’t take those pills,
and the one’s that stayed up all night.
*It’s a win

Her sweet chocolate blood
languidly screams
in the rain as she recalls whispers of love;
she aches as the sky sprays her with tears
like a storm in a dream.
She falls to her knees with her hands on her mouth
the feel of his last kiss remains on her lips.
His last loving touch on her cheeks.
His last words ringing in her ears.
Her lips he once kissed passionately are trembling.
Her cheeks he once touched with care
are now black from her running mascara.
Her ears he whispered loving words into
are filled with the rushing of the ocean.
She’s breaking, and she know’s
she’ll never get him back…

His bitter chocolate blood
languidly screams
in his room as he recalls whispers of love;
he aches as he stares at his paused screen
Call of Duty left forgotten.
He punches a hole in the wall with her necklace clenched in his fist
the memory of the night he gave it to her engraved in his mind.
Her last kiss tasting of sugar cookies.
Her last touch as she played with his hair.
Her last words ringing in his ears.
His lips she once kissed passionately are trembling
His hair she constantly played with
is now a tousled mess from running his hands through it.
His ears she once whispered that she loved him into
are filled with the ringing of silent bells.
He’s breaking and he knows
she’ll never take him back...

I don’t hate you
I hate that the image I had of you
was destroyed.
And I hate how obvious it is now
that I wanted you
so much more
than you wanted me.
I hate that you don’t know how much
you make this hurt.
I hate that I cried over something
that wasn’t worth my tears.
I hate that I miss you
and I hate how pathetic it makes me.
I hate that when my phone rings
you’re the first person I hope it is
but the last person it’ll ever be.
I hate that I believed the words you said
and I hate that I’m letting you get to me.
I hate this never ending pain.
I hate that I love hard
because my feelings die slow.
I don’t hate you
I hate that I never really mattered...

I don't want to be that girl
the one in the way
or the one who cries from the pain.
The girl that they look at and see needy.
I'm not that girl who needs people,
but every once in a while I need a friend.
Someone to be there as a shoulder to cry on
or to give me a hug on the few times I need one.
I don't want to be looked after
and I don't want someone always there.
I want to be alone to write
to draw
to cry
or to bury myself in my music.
I need them there during the hard times
the times I break and melt down.
When the pain gets overwhelming
and theres nothing I can do.
Just as I know that, that's when they need me.
I'm there for the hard times
for their melt downs
and overwhelming pain.
Yet, when I need them
they are no where to be found.
It hurts to know they don't see friendship
the same as me.
"Friendship isn't about being there when it's convenient,
it's about being there when it's not."
I guess a true friend is hard to find.

I'm fine she says
but she can't hide the gleam in her eyes
she moves her hair and covers her face
but that one rogue tear that escapes
I see.