They called her an attention ***** for the last time
As she put the gun to her stomach and pulled the trigger.

The fat girl
The bipolar girl
The depressed girl
The nymphomaniac
The airhead blonde
The discarded cheerleader
The broken hearted

The girl who cuts
The girl who cries
The girl who has a eating disorder
The girl who can't help herself
The girl who is always alone
The girl who gets yelled at
The girl who always gets *****

She just wanted love
But this is all she has

She has a cheating boyfriend
She has a horrible father
She has an abusive mother
She has a shattered heart
She has a numb mind
She has a lost hope
She has a sharp knife
She has a loaded gun

I'm sure they just wanted attention. I'm sure they were perfectly fine.
I'm sure they didn't need the helping hand. I'm sure they're just overreacting.

I'm sure she's dead. I'm sure you don't really care.

does she know
the way we danced?

those sparkling eyes
emerging from new love

how could she know?

tell me does she know
the late night telephone

endless
conversation
infinite
discussion

that golden light
emerging from new love

how could she know?

tell me will you tell her
how you loved
how you didn't
and everything in between?

tell me will you tell her
the demons you shared
the ones you caused
and the tears of all the broken souls around you?

how could she possibly know?

i didn't.

You can't love a poet.
Even though, you feel flattered by my witty one liners,
And my charming stanzas, you can't love a poet.
I will write the good and the bad and you won't like it.
You won't like my version of the fight
And you'll like my metaphors even less.
It will drive you crazy and you will tell your friends,
"She's obsessed".
I can't help the memories that stick like glue, imprinted on my brain
And I can't stop feeling the words exchanged 3 Sunday's ago that you forgot as soon as they left your mouth.
I will relive and reread until the end of my days and inevitably you will leave,
because you can't love a poet.
You can't love someone who will publish your intimacy and print your passion.

I can't think of you.

******* it. I'm doing it again.

Hair tinted gold when the sun would shine just right.

I see your face when Valerie plays over dull speakers in my Mother's old Toyota.

Eyes rimmed black.

Hazel and warm like pumpkin spice.

Body spray and French manicures.

Walking through rough alleyways in the dark. Back to college, back on campus. I'll never forget that night.

You've forgotten that night. It wasn't special for you.

Half a decade ago.

Unrequited girl crush.

I know, I know we were friends.

For one semester. Six months.

You were my first, Valerie.

The first person to make me question.

To make me wonder.

To make me fear.

To make me choke.

when we fall
we fall hard
tearing down stars
crashing through skies
grinding out craters with our feet
churning  through oceans
smashing mountains
blasting out deserts
running rivers dry
shifting poles
resetting orbits
disintegrating ourselves
with a passion that destroys worlds
and births galaxies from our dust

@journeyofdays

I blame Diana, the hunt, the game.
He was a fool for her wily ways.
I blame the girl, the victor of the tale.
She gets the spoils, I only fail.

He says he needs time.
But time doesn't wait.

Youre just like your father she said
not knowing that she was right
just not in the way she meant
the way she meant was that he was
a spitfire
a hoodlum
the kind of kid who'd start every fight
she didnt know however that he drank cheap beer
just like his father
for the same reasons
his clammy hands clasped around the neck of the brown bottle
as if he was trying to hold on to the little bit of fight he had left in him
he smoked cigarettes just like his father
for the same reasons
the smoke burning his chest
filling the emptiness that was left there from the many lovers who took what they wanted and left
he was broken and hurting deep inside
just
like
his
father
already emotionless and hardened from the years of struggles in his life
just like his father

Dear Daddy,
Do you know what these men say to me?

With their
eyes and their mouths
when I walk on the street.

With a grin and a nod
and a look up and down.
A wink and a kiss
and a cat call heard from downtown.

With my skirt short
and my top
low,
It’s a cold world daddy
and no
doesn’t mean no.

Daddy do you know
how these men look at me?

Like I’m a piece of meat
strutting down the street?
With my head buds in
and my favorite song on.

I’m asking for it Daddy,
I’m in the wrong.

Do you know how it feels
not to wear what I like?

To walk a little faster
when I’m alone at night?

Daddy the world is my predator
and I am it's doe,
Daddy what happens
when I can’t say no?