While you cover your profile pictures with transparent flags
ranting how terrorism should stop
retweeting and reposting those gory pictures of the victims
keeping up with the latest news
and trying to flow with the trend
like if this was the new ice bucket challenge
but with blood water.

In all honesty,
Do you really pity the victims?
Do you really feel the sorrow?
Were your families even part?
Were your friends even part?
Were you a part?

Or are you doing it for the sake of Likes?

Only truly
if you hate terrorism,
act like as you really do
because you look stupid,
hating what social media tells you to hate.

And only truly
if you hate terrorism,
You would do something more than a click from social media.

If terrorists terrorize to change the world into their own,
what are we doing to change ours?

Fell in love last friday
with a non-binary star
woke up and brushed my teeth
with sunglasses on thinking
of them

white shots of hail and the windows
jeweled from the rain
a hot week and hot nights
followed by a hot star
and sheets of rains from grey clouds
changing

Maroon, crimson, dark red.
Whatever color you want to call it,
it sits balled in front of me on my old bedside table.
You want it back because it has "sentimental value,"
your brother bought it for you before he went off to the military
and it cost him seventy dollars.

On the top shelf of my current bedside table,
at the back, hidden from light, from sight,
sits the ring you bought me that cost over two hundred dollars,
the ring that signified a promise that you swore you'd keep.
You asked if it bothered me to have, if it hurt,
and I told you that it didn't.
You said that I should keep it.
You say the hoodie has sentimental value but I sit here with a ring of mineral,
real diamond centered on its band,
coveted only by the box you presented it to me in when you tricked me into finding it,
when you told me you'd love me until the day that you died.
The ring that later represented not only our connection,
our relationship,
but our engagement that I hear you're denying ever happened.

You did not ask for the ring back.

You never said that it held "sentimental value,"
but your seventy dollar hoodie from the brother who has given you
fear to be touched by unprecedented betrayal,
does.

I cannot help but wonder how you are not bothered by an item that once held such meaning
no longer being in your possession.
I cannot help but wonder why you have not mentioned it.
I cannot help but wonder if you hear a certain artist in the car, or with friends,
and think of me but do not say anything in fear of making a scene.
I cannot help but wonder if you are still in love with me.

If a hoodie can hold such sentimental value and the ring you proposed to me with does not,
did the words
" I love you "
mean less than
" I'm trying to get over you "
when you said them within a week of one another?

Am I never meant to know?

I fear I am not privileged enough to know whether or not these words,
these things that have passed through my life were ever meant to mean
more than a cool March night of lying on the roof of your car,
staring at the constellations and wishing to be with you forever
when I saw the shooting stars.
I fear that I am no longer privileged to say no one knows you like I do.

You said you wanted your hoodie back,
and I told you that I found it.
You said you'd find my clothes as soon as possible
and I told you to take your time.
I told you not to push yourself too hard.
I didn't want you to hurt anymore.

I don't know what to do with your hoodie, though.
It's moving from my bed,
to dresser,
to bedside table
to bed
to dresser
to bedside table
and I wake and see it and think of you
and I wonder if I should put it on when I go for a walk
because it's warmer than anything else that I own,
but I don't,
because it has sentimental value.

I do not.

this large blue hoodie isn't mine, you see its my lovers.
My first true loves blue hoodie.
It's big and cozzy.
We are no longer together but I still wear your blue hoodie.
It makes me feel safe like you use to
This was once your favorite blue hoodie.
It keeps my warm like you did once.
I cry into this blue hoodie ever so often
It's my first true loves
I'm wearing it right now, exactly a year since I got it. Since are last kiss
We still talk about this blue hoodie
But instead of happy thoughts my are manly sad and dull
But blue hoodie, you've done you're job. You keep me warm and hold all our memories, I just wish we were still making them instead of losing them.

Your Los Angeles apartment and I,
We’ve both been abandoned,
Abandoned and forgotten
To your never-ending travels.

I think you heard me say
I hated you,
But I only hate you,
Because I love you so deeply that my love renders me helpless,
And I hate to feel helpless.

Your bed and I,
We both miss your weight,
And wait,
Your sheets and I,
We miss your touch,
That touch you give her so freely
God, I hate Philly.

I think you heard me say
I hated you,
But I only hate you,
Because I love you do deeply that my love is making me feel out of control,
And I hate feeling out of control.

Your front door and I,
We both want to welcome you home,
Because with us, you are really home,
Whether you know it or not.

I think you heard me say
I hated you,
But I only hate you,
Because I love you so deeply that my love is making me blind,
And I hate not seeing the truth, Jason.

Pills Pills Pills
Catch me in free-fall
A medicated safety net

I wear my diagnosis
          Major Depressive Disorder
Like a scarlet letter

Existing on an island
          Between crazy and calm
          Lost and found

Pills Pills Pills
Pull me out of obscurity
So I can begin to forget.

Through the aisle of shame
Avoiding the stares of hate
Cradled in my arms,
My object of tempted lust
With my chin held high
Victimized by my desires
Alone I suffer the wrath
Of thy shameful seed
Whom I have so pulled into this world
Not only have I offended man
But God too
Sullied is his priest who graced my bed,
But what can a lone woman do
Against the desires of the flesh?

A first kiss is a deadly weapon
ours was nervous and in secret
a large dog making me sneeze
jumping over the SUV
because your stepdad can't park
and clinging to you
because he also can't drive
When you met my parents
on New Years, pictionary
we both yelled "anarchy"
and I will never not smile about that