Never try for perfect.
Perfect will never come to you.

Besides,
Perfect is no fun.

Perfect is no passion,
Perfect is sane,
Perfect is nothing compared to

Laughter over taking risks,
The hot rush of tears when you're afraid,
But the warmth of light and relief
When you realize there's nothing
To be afraid of.

Perfect is nothing compared to

Your face hurting from smiling too much,
And your sides hurting from laughing too hard,
And drowsily dozing off
To the sound and heart beat
Of the person you love,
Mid-conversation.

Perfect does not compare,
To conversations so deep and filled with
Hope and lighting up
The darkest parts of our pasts,
That when you fall asleep,
I cannot help but to think back to them,
And kiss your cheek.

Perfect will not ever compare,
To waking up from a bad dream,
Alone and scared,
Only to realize you should not be scared,
Because you are not alone.

And your cries wake him up,
And he holds you and soothes you
And suddenly everything is okay.

Perfect cannot compare
To having the weight lifted off your shoulders
Just by seeing his smile.

You might think what you have is perfect,
But what we're doing
Is filled with trying
And striving
And going for our goals,
But perfect is nothing compared,
To the you that makes me whole.

Sometimes
I still shake
From things
That are over.

Sometimes
I still feel
Sullied.
Blackened.

But sometimes
I put on your sweatshirt,
And I feel safe.

And sometimes
I hear your voice
And the tears no longer
Threaten to fall.

Sometimes
I'm not okay.

And sometimes
I am.

I wait.
I wait and it rains.
I wait and it rains but I feel no water.
I wait and it rains but I feel no water yet his fingers wrapped around my wrist burns an imprint, a brand into my veins, my bones.
I wait and it rains but I feel no water.
I wait and it rains.
I wait.

I can feel myself floating
I travel beside him as he drives for forever,
AsI lay my head to rest every night.
He knows I'm there,
But he never dares to look at me.
As if
He's afraid
Smiling in my general direction
Will make me real
Again.

And if
I am
Real
Again
He could
Lose me
Again.

I hope you bleed.
I hope you cry.
I hope you scream,
Beggin' your god
"Whyyy, ohh why?"

I hope you see.
I hope you hide.
Remember me
As the bad guy.

I hope you keep
It together,
Long enough
To remember.

I hope you peek
In all the books
They tell you not to.

I hope they reap
Your pride.
But not all that truth
Ya' got inside.

I hope you know
This world don't matter.
So if you got a light,
You gotta let it show.
Let it show,
Let it show,
You gotta
Let that heart glow.

If ya' got a light,
If ya' got a light,
If ya' got a light,
Ya' gotta
Let that heart glow.

You will bleed.
You will know.
It will hurt,
But you gotta
Just
Let the scars grow.

You will see
Others lie.
You'll never really
Get why.
It's the worst,
Trust me, I know.

But ya' gotta just
Let 'em go.

Let them go,
Let them go,
Let them go.

Ya' gotta just
Let that hurt go.

You've got that light,
I know y'know.
So you gotta fight,
Ya' got places to go.

So go,
So go,
Ya' gotta just
Get up and go.

So go,
So go,
Ya' gotta just
Let that heart glow.

Today I felt like more of an outcast
Than I actually am.

But you won't read this.

I have failed you,
And disappointed myself.
And for that my guilt will swallow me whole.

But you won't read this.

I am getting better,
But it's taking me awhile.
I wish you could understand
How hard I'm trying.

But you won't read this,
At least,
Not tonight.

I play with your hair,
And then feel the desire to laugh
At the mess I made of it.

Your voice fills my ears
And light fills my heart
And love fills me up
Entirely.

I love the way you think,
And the way you speak,
And the way your thoughts bounce from one end
Of your train of thought
To the other.

I love the way your eyebrows pull together
When you're focusing,
And the way your eyes flicker
When you shift focus.

I love the way you reach over to kiss me,
When you're playing video games
And I'm typing another poem.

And I love the way your voice sounds,
Usually matter-of-fact,
Often times, around your friends,
Full and orotund.

I guess,
I just love all of you.
And I can't stand it,
So I guess I'll sit down.

you dug around in my head,
you found things that weren't yours.
but you wanted them.
you wanted them.

YOU TOOK ME BY THE HAND.
YOU DUG YOUR NAILS INTO MY WRIST.
BUT YOU SMILED,
"EVERYTHING WILL BE ALRIGHT."

I PLAY THAT LIE ON REPEAT
EVERY SINGLE NIGHT.

you stitched my wounds back together
with rose vines and lilac.
i always told you i loved the smell,
but you never seemed to notice
that the thorns always tore me open again.

YOU DRAGGED ME INTO THE DARKNESS,
IT COULD HAVE BEEN HELL OR JUST A CLOSET,
BUT YOU TOLD ME THIS IS WHERE I'D BE BURIED.
I BEGGED, THIS ISN'T RIGHT.
YOU GRINNED, THIS WAS THE END OF OUR VESSEL TONIGHT.

every time i want to scream, you convince me to whisper.

Dress me in black,
Paint my lips red.

My skin is stained
An olive so pale
That white and green
Are the closest colors you'll get.

Not quite pale enough,
To be that blue-ish
Shade of skim milk.

My eyes shimmer ever so slightly,
But the darkest color remains.

I wish I could show you
How my eyes can light up--
Or more of, I wish you were looking at me when they do.

"Mirror, mirror on the wall,
"Who is the fairest of them all?"

They'd ask their mirrors,
And in the glimmer of their darkness,
Would be a hint of my smile,
And then myself
Being undone.

But I refused,
To be undone by anyone at all,
Especially them,
Especially myself.

And then finally,
Brushing off the poison from their apples,
I shakily stood on my own.

And having found a prince--
Or, prince/huntsman,
I seem to have been standing
Much better
Now.

I'm no princess,
But I can tell you now
I'm not quite up for the
Endless fighting anymore.

Let me tell you my knowledge
Of colors, ailments, and homemade remedies,
And how they all intertwine.

Make me feel,
My prince.
Make me feel the colors I see
Deep down within my bones.

You don't think I see it.
And, honestly,
I didn't recognize it at first.

I've never been on the receiving end of that look.

But, as they hook me up
With wires and sensors
For an EKG,
I can see it.

The way you look at me.

That fire in your eyes,
Always so resilient,
So passionate.
Like you could do anything
As long as you really wanted it.

But it looked like that fire,
Just now,
Was eating you alive.
The flames licking at the fragments
Of your heart.

It looked like pain.
Like loss.
Like the world is falling down all around you,
And there is nothing you can do to stop it.

I recognize that look, now.
I've seen it in my own reflection,
Staring back at me,
Venomous tears threatening to burn through my skin
If I were to let them fall.
A sandy lump in my throat,
When I finally understood.

You can love someone with every part of you,
With your whole heart.
You can love someone
Through lifetimes.
Through centuries.
You can love someone to the very end of the universe,
And back again.

But you cannot love someone's broken pieces back together.

But,
Sometimes,
When all I feel is searing pain,
I think of the pain in your eyes,
The very depth of it,
The intensity,
When you even entertain the thought of losing me.

And it suddenly occurs to me,
That you love me.
And as long as you love me,
As long as you're mine,
I'm not done here. No, not yet.

So I stand up.
I brush myself off,
And look directly into the void,
And wait for it to blink first.

I growl through gritted teeth,
****** from a split lip,
While clutching the lace hem
Of my pink sundress.
*"I am not done here. No, not yet."

The lapis evening sky
Engulfs me
And I'm nothing more than
Venus shining in the distance.

But I'm nothing like Venus.
I am not a goddess,
Nor could I ever be the
Goddess of love or beauty or fertility.

I could never be a Goddess,
Nor would I ever choose to be.
Much too conceited an action,
A choice.

And while the world spins in colors,
In lights,
In rays of vivid feeling
That washes redorangeyellowgreenblueindigoviolet
All over me in tidal waves.

But I am bereft in color,
I am black and white
I am grey and I have lost all my bright,
I lost all my light
To the ****** of crows that eat up my insides.

And your eyes are aqua marine
With amber circles,
And I have sunset eyes,
But that's for another time.

I forgave you in mid-June,
After you blocked me on
Whatever social media
You wanted to use.

I found out recently you took the photos of me
Off your other social media,
The one that was primarily pictures.

And it's fine, really.
It's easier to remember the people you hate,
Than the people you've hurt.
Purge me from your life,
Forget a year of living,
Whatever.

I just find it,
Ultimately, the most extreme
Form of cowardice
I have ever perceived.

Why take ownership
Of the sins you've committed
And seek a way to repent and change,
When you can just erase the memories
And continue on
As a vapid narcissist.

Have you told her you love her yet?
I hope she knows you're lying,
If you did.
Because you told me a week or two
Into our relationship,
And continued for a year.
All of it was either *******,
Or you're lying right now,
To everyone.

I'll break every promise I made,
Because you're all self serving,
And the majority of you are liars.
I'll tell you who told me about
All the lies and mistruths
You spoke before we ended
And after too.
Just like all the girls before me,
You got bored and decided
You'd be a crybully and end it as a victim.
You're a child, a spoiled child for that.
For doing this to me and everyone before me,
And probably everyone after,
Because you'll never be happy
With anyone who has free thought,
And doesn't want to be slave to your desires
And tantrums.

Can you guess who told me everything?
You used to hate them,
But they grew on you (with help from me)
And now they're marrying one of your best friends.
I hope that was clear enough for you,
You're a little dense.

Good thing she bailed too.

I can't wait for the moment when I can tell
Everyone every awful thing you did.

I forgave you,
In mid-June,
For every horrible thing you did
To me.
Whether it was in the beginning of "Us"
or the end,
And everything
In between.

Because there is no more
"Us".
Only your lies
And my memories.

The only thing I regret
From our time together,
Was that I wasn't the one who ended it.

Go ahead and twist the knife in my stomach.
I don't care anymore.
I hope it rusts in your hands,
And your callouses and blisters get infected.

I am not going down
Without a fight.

You have your lies!
I have my memories.
Who's the coward here?

I forgave you
In mid-June.

Manic pixie dream girl,
I was some type of cliche
To most.

A starter pack to teach about
How to and how to not
Love,
I was used
As a lesson.

This is right,
This is wrong,
And this is the way
You drive her away.

I was a first,
Never the last.

I never want to
Come in first again.

And it's too much
Too much
This memory,
Who are you to say
What I can and cannot feel,
Who are you to judge my decision
Of getting better?

Get out of my head
Get out of my head
Get out of my head,
I don't want to remember
Anything before or after
December.

And it was my fault
My fault
My fault
The demons in my head eat away at me,
You used his death as a reason to live,
And it didn't destroy you that you couldn't help him,
The way it still eats me up inside.

My birthday isn't mine anymore,
But I didn't want it anyway.
I don't want it anyway
I don't want it anyway.

I was just some type of
"Unattainable"
Pixie dust spilling
Freak of nature
Girl.

And it kills me
That I wasn't human,
Rather some type of hispter writer's
First work,
On a girl he never got to be with,
And I was sadly
Attached and intoxicated
By the toxins that were you two.

I'd rather cut open my flesh,
And bleed the venom out,
Than remember you anymore.

You can't control me
Anymore,
I'm just the bird whose wings you tried to break,
And I'm flying away
I'm flying away
I'm flying away.

It's too much,
Too much
Too much
Too much
The mistakes I made.

I hate remembering
Being reminded
Constantly
That the mistake I made
Was you.

Loving you was a mistake,
Falling into pressure
Was a mistake.

And how do I live
With these sins I've committed
Against my own self?

(It's too much, I can't breathe here now/What can breathing do to change the past?)

Regret rips me apart,
And I'm glad I've found him now,
But I hate who I was and decisions I made.

"They never made a proper term to describe us."

She began.

The candle light
Flickered
In the warm
May breeze

She swirled the liquid in her cup,
She said it was wine.
It looked more like gold.

"But, still, they tried..."

Sucubus
Siren
Demon
Her lips curved around the word,
Almost
Fondly.
It made sense her name was

L
I
L
L
I
T
H

Lillith

But, when she placed her glass down, she stared up at the moon, her amber eyes glistening, almost bright yellow.

Witch.*


I don't remember the rest of the night,
But I know it was filled with kindness I've never known,
And it smelled
Like jasmine
And gardenias.

The storm rolled through.
The lightning lit up the night sky.
Thunder crashed against my
Too-sensitive ears,
Making my too-skittish frame
Flinch closer to the corner of the wall.

The rain poured.

The world fell apart.

The clouds fell from the heavens.

Fire sprouted from the ground,
Consuming all in its path.

And I loved you.
And I loved you.
And I loved you.
And I loved you.

The shadows scuttled across the floorboards.
The deepest depths splattered their inky muck across my wounded flesh.
I was held to the ground,
Venom poured into my open veins,
My blood steaming and my pride screaming.

And you loved me.
And you loved me.
And you loved me.
And you loved me.

The sun came out,
The trees grew back.
The grass was greener than before.
The sky, all the bluer.
Your words, all the true-er.

My scars healed over.
I painted over them,
Though the venom courses through me, even still.

You hold me close when it heats my blood,
When my skin grows cold and pale.

You whisper as I beg for peace,
Your hand running through my hair,
"I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you."

And I know it is true
After all.

Be the girl who broke the moon.

Be the wind. Be the rain. Be the thunder. Be the lightning. Be the fire that swallows the world.

Be the boy who gave it all.

Be the smell of yellowing pages and black ink. Be the clumps of snow falling on a dark winters night. Be the pink of the coming dawn. Be the sunrise. Be the spring-green leaves on reborn trees. Be the sunset and all the wonders of the night.

Be the person who holds it all in their hands.

Be the tobacco smoke drifting off a corn pipe. Be the smell of fog on a long drive home. Be the storm that rains bullets and stardust on old rooms with black roofs but with no ceiling.

Just be.

Be the blue of the ocean, or the blue of his eyes. Be the call of the siren or the stars in the sky. Be the one that knows the truth. Be the one who speaks it loud. Be the rebel yell. Be the heart of gold. Be the renegade fist. Be pixie dust. Be a silver wish.

Just be.

Be more than you ever imagined. Be better than you were the day before. Be who you wanted to be. Be the person you needed.

Be the girl who broke the moon.

No, I don't think
I have a smile
people are addicted to seeing,
and no,
I don't think
I'm your dream girl,
and no, I don't think
you'd get stuck on me.

but I do think
I'm worth your time,
and yes, I do think
I can brighten your day.
and while I have a tendency
to fall into insecure patterns,
I do happen to think
that I don't have to be pretty like them.
I can be beautiful
like me.

and I'm not the best,
but if anything,
I am beautiful like the stars.
dangerous if you edge too close,
scarred in a sense,
but whole entirely, even still.
I am strong,
lovely,
and ethereal.

I am worth every second
of the attention I so desire,
of the affection I so desire.

I am bright,
I am good,
I am sweet and kind,
and I am stronger
than I am given credit for.

If you love a poet
Let me give you a word of warning:
We trust slowly,
But love swiftly
And fiercely
And with all that we are.

If you love a poet,
She will forget chores
And things on the grocery list
But she will be able to recite
Her favorite quote
And stanza from
T.S. Eliot's the Hollowmen
As though she wrote them herself.

If you love a poet,
She will stumble over words when confessing feelings
And reciting poorly timed jokes (making them all the more unfunny),
But be able to write ten pages at least a day
On how you light up the null void she thought her heart was.

If you love a poet,
She will get choked up
When thinking of all the pain you've endured
And wipe at streaming eyes,
Because her empathy runs too deep and
Too wide.

If you love a poet,
Nothing will be organized
But that receipt you were looking for
Will have some extra ink on the back,
Something-something about birds
Another something about finally being heard.

If you love a poet,
She won't be able to be impressed with her own cooking,
And she'll misplace everything all the time
And it will send her into a panic.
She won't remember where her cellphone went,
And whether or not it was on vibrate or just low,
But she'll remember exact dates and times that music
Came on that made her think of you,
And whether or not you were with her
Or if you were holding her hand.

If you love a poet,
She won't remember names or faces,
Or movie titles of flicks she likes,
But she'll be able to tell you the feel of your lips
Pressed against her skin
In detail that makes her shiver,
And how the feeling of you hand on her knee
Makes her heart skip enough beats
To make her head spin.

If you love a poet
She'll write your rise to the sky a thousand times,
And never once fathom writing your fall.

If you love a poet
She'll misquote things that make her laugh,
Sending her into a spiral of embarrassed giggles.
She'll be clear enough and pay enough attention
To correct those that are misinformed on a position or stance.
But she'll be zoned out to new inspiration
And writing your praises
Too much
To remember that food is necessary
And that water is helpful.

If you love a poet
She won't be in your world
When writing,
But all her work
Will involve her care for you.

If you love a poet,
She'll go on and on about your colors,
Your bravery,
Your smile
Your laugh
And expect nothing back.

If you love a poet,
You will be there for the darkest nights,
Where she had never let light in before.
For the nightmares
Where her voice is meaningless,
As it had been for the majority of her life.

If you love a poet,
You will see the shadows
Of her fear
Overwhelm her
And feel her nails in your skin
Too hard,
And her fingers squeezing yours
Too tight
Too hot
For someone always so cold.
You will see the fear in her eyes
When things are too loud
Too angry.

If you choose to love a poet,
You will see her lash out at her own devices,
And feel the scars her ire
And poor coping skills
Left her with.

If you choose to love a poet,
You will see
Parts of a troubled mind
No one has ever seen.
You will hear her confession
That imagery doesn't fit
The painting she wishes to make for you
With words
To describe her love for you and all that you are.

If you choose to love a poet,
Know that she is a  fragile thing,
With shaking hands
And quivering knees.
Know that she is brave and strong
Only in the conditions that are familiar.
And she has a "I'll do it myself," mentality,
For that's all she's ever known.
And when she's left injured with fractures all around,
Her first thought is "That didn't go as planned."

If you choose to love a poet,
You will have to deal with metaphors
And similes
And her staring at you in awe.
If you choose to love a poet,
She will scoff at those who have hurt you,
And know that it is because she hates that she cannot protect you.

If a poet loves you,
It was not a choice,
Rather a result of circumstances
That were beautiful and meant to be.

If a poet loves you,
She intends to inform you,
And she intends on staying.

If a poet loves you,
It will be wholly and entirely and until
The end of days.

I used to wonder if angels breathe,
In one two three,
Out one two three four.

I was taught by a therapist
That you breathe in
But you breathe out a little longer,
And I've always wondered
What that really did
Because it never really stopped the anxiety entirely
Like the way you tend to do.

And I know my skin is pale,
And my flesh is soft,
And every curve of my body
Would not be considered defined in the muscular sense
Save for the fact that I look so much smaller
Than others.

And I wonder if you'd still love me,
If you saw me emaciated at 110 lbs,
When I was in the hospital.
I could count my ribs,
Without holding my stomach in.

And at 120 lbs,
I wondered if you would have loved me
If I weighed any more,
And now at 125 lbs,
I realize it doesn't really matter,
You love me nonetheless.

And I struggle even still to eat,
Most days I feel sick from drinking too much water.

And I breathe in
One two three
And out
One two three four,
And I'm looking at the time,
And I'm looking at your texts,
And I wonder if you see me
As I see you?

And while I know you love me
As I love you,
I can't help but wonder
Do angels breathe too?

Charles Dickens once said
"I have been bent and broken, but I hope, into a better shape."

I hope he's right.

And even if he wasn't,
Maybe I can be.

I feel like running until my calves burn,
And my chest is tight because
Asthma doesn't like letting me breathe.

I feel like closing out the world,
Collapsing in a field of long grass,
Watching rain clouds roll in,
Until the storm envelops me into the night time.

I feel like screaming as loud as I can,
And punching trees until the bark falls off,
And my knuckles are stained red,
And ache when I try to move my fingers.

Because I'm scared
That I've messed up royally,
And I thought I was so much better,
But faltering in progress
Makes me feel so awful,
And I want to be better,
But I can't be, I can't do this by myself.

I desperately would rather
Waking up sore because of you than because of running away,
And I'd rather lay out watching your colors spiral around me.
I would rather scream because I love you,
And I'd rather your fingers be interlaced with mine,
Than my knuckles be scarred over again.

****, I'm scared.

My new years resolution
is to make you the happiest man
I can.

and this new year
was challenging
and hellish
and chaotic
and ultimately beautiful,
I can only hope this coming year
is even more breathtaking.

and if
I could paint the sky
a thousand ways
I could not capture
the amazement
that are your colors
or the galaxies within your eyes.

I hope they last
at least fifty years to come.

My eyes are buzzing
And colors flood my senses
And I'm suddenly blinded
By the the calming disassociation
That being livid sometimes gives me.

I don't take klonipon
Anymore,
Though my doctor still insists
On writing prescriptions for it.

And don't shove down my throat
How bad she thinks she had it,
Because she doesn't know
The half of it
And she doesn't even know
How this world works.

So I'll get myself
A glass of water,
Swallow down my anxiety and tears
Along with two Motrin and a couple Benadryl.

Wait for the colored noises
To calm down.
Rub at my eyes and ears,
Waiting for the ringing from my internal screaming
To stop.

And I see in blurs
And I hear in colors.

And so I will listen to Modern Baseball's album "Sports"
For the umpteenth time
To calm me down.

My wrists are wet from the ice
I would press to my veins,
And my skin is crawling
So I'll try not to touch anything
Besides my fingers to the keyboard.

I gave you the option
To love me or leave me.

And you chose the former,
So I somehow figure
That's the final decision.

And despite all efforts
Against us,
I know for a fact that we'll make it.

So I shouldn't be angry,
Yet here I am.
And I shouldn't feel hurt,
Yet there goes a tear.

It's just nothing,
It's not important.
Just my insanity,
Nothing really valid.

But my chest feels heavy,
And there's a lump in my throat,
And I'm irritated and a little hurt,
But it's not like it matters
Because it honestly doesn't in the long run.

And I could say all these things,
And trust me, I will.
But I need to calm down,
And you need to sleep.

I'd rather hash this out now,
I'd rather tell you I'm a little irate,
A little *******,
And that a whole lot of me is hurting.

I'm trying to rationalize it,
I'm just clingy.
I'm asking too much.
This has been bothering me,
But it's not really that big of an issue.

It's just my low self esteem.
It's just my being blinded by those before you.
It's nothing it's nothing it's nothing it's nothing,
But I'm crying and I'm angry
And it sure does feel like something.

If I breathe I'll start sobbing,
And the tears will come faster.

Control.
This is the control I have now.

If I don't breathe,
I won't cry,
I won't move,
Besides my fingers on the keyboard.
If I don't breathe,
I won't cry.
But my head will hurt,
And I might get dizzy.

Control it.
Ignore it.
Shove it back down into the inky black mason jar
Where everything else bad about me lives.

I can't let it fester,
It's like an infection,
It will only get worse.
But I don't need to handle it right now.
I'll let you sleep,
And deal with it later,
When you're awake.

I know I should breathe,
But for now I will not.
This is my issue,
My problem.
If I ignore it,
The monsters can get to me and me alone
Later.

Lying through my teeth was a lot easier
When I could sit back and pray.
But I don't have anyone, or anything
To pray to anymore.
I'm afraid that you taught me that.
I wish and I long and I yearn
But I surely don't pray any longer.
Because no one answered me
Long ago.
When I was more innocent
When I needed it most.
And I need it now,
But just because you need it
Doesn't mean you'll get it.

There are worse things than
Feeling.
There are worse things than
Wanting to feel.
And what's worse is that you tell me
That you still care
And all I hear are the chorus of angels/demons/monsters inside my head
Telling me that you're a liar just like me.
And I cry because **** it,
I swear that I'm honest.
And I cried because **** it,
Honesty never got me anywhere but farther down this hole.

But there is a light
At the end of this forsaken tunnel!

There is light,
In this dark, cold world.
You choose to ignore it. You choose to be unhappy. And I'm sick of letting you run my state of mind.
You had all you wanted right under your thumb, and you squashed it.
Because you want this state of perpetual sad.
But people are out there dying for us,
People are out there wanting what we have.
And they don't get it,
Because selfish, foolish children like you,
Take it for granted.

But ******* it if I don't leave this world happy.
******* it if I don't change my ways.

Gold, silver, platinum,
Check off the little box
So you can
Find just the right thing,
That costs $50 or more.

I keep mentioning, as you keep moving closer in
On me, and my thoughts and my personal space,
"This isn't about me. It's not about me. I don't want to draw attention to myself."

And you say, over me,
"But look at this one!"

And you ogle over the shiny things
That I could give less of a **** about.
Because the real thing I'm excited for,
Is spending time with him.

I'm excited for being part of his life,
In this way,
In a way that kind of matters,
Because I want to be stand with him
And it makes me really happy,
And my heart all fluttery,
And my chest all warm
And I don't understand.
It's so corny.

I'm getting attached.
I knew I would.
But how could I not?
Maybe I always was.
Red strings of fate,
Well,
They're tricky little *******,
And will fool you for years.

So while you
Look at jewelry now for yourself on your phone,
I'll switch the ring you put in my cart
Out with one that I think suits the occasion
And him and I
Much better.

You'll think it's cute,
Whatever,
Blah blah blah
You won't get the sentimental value,
The fact that it will mean so much to me
If he smiles when he sees it.

But I guess that's the thing.
You had shiny things
And sparkly things
And green paper
For so long,
Much longer than I did.

I've learned to rather enjoy going without.
There isn't so much pressure.

And you say "It's not about our difference in tastes,"
Your tone implying that yours is still better,
"it's about looking classy and right for the occasion.
"It's not about your taste, it's about the occasion."

I start to see red,
And I go off for about six minutes,
A little longer than usual.
"How many times today have I said that this isn't about me?
"How many times today have I said that that's the reason I don't want to wear something like that?"

And I tried not to say it, but I did anyway.
"I'm not some type of ****. I don't use people. I refuse absolutely to give off that impression."

Because I know girls who do that,
And I know they wear things like that.
Extravagantly thin sparkly diamond strings lacing up their throats,
And rings the size of lollipops
Glittering their knuckles.
Manicured nails that could cut your face off,
Pedicured toes that could shank you in the stomach.
Hoops or chains glistening out of their punctured ears and tangling with long hair.
Purposefully too-tight too-short dresses to show too-much cleavage and sky-high heels that end in a point sharp enough to puncture your spinal column with ease.

I'm not supposed to look like some shiny barbie doll that's been weaponized.

If anything, if I got to choose, I'd want to look only vaguely threatening and positively ethereal and mostly gentle.

But then you go on and on and on
About manicures
And pedicures,
And I interrupt your rant on designs
For nails with
"Black."

"What?"

"Black or blue polish. Nothing else."

"You don't want to get fake nails--"

"Hell no."

"Extensio--"

"For my hair? **** that," Cue another sarcastic comment about weaponized barbie dolls.

This shouldn't be so stressful.
And I can feel myself crying,
And my breathing is a little shaky,
Because I don't think anyone understands
That I legitimately care about my Bluebird.
This isn't just about it being fun,
About time being fun with him,
About how easy talking to and being around him is.

It's about caring to the point of my chest hurting a little when I think something might be wrong.
It's about caring to that same point when he smiles, and being able to see it.

I know, I know.
Corny.

But still,
I've been so okay lately,
Yeah I've had a few bad days,
But he didn't run off when they happened,
And that means a lot.

Even writing this,
I'm tearing up a little.
I don't understand.
I know I shouldn't fight this feeling,
But I kind of think I might have to.
Just for a little while.

[Insert keyboard smash]
SDKLFJSADKLFJ
**** it, whatever.

Feelings are insane,
And they make me all choked up.

Sometimes i just want
to disappear
and sometimes I just want
to be seen.

and sometimes
I'm too caught up
in the in between.

I was reluctant
To fall in love
I was reluctant
To be
Loved.

But your name is
Embroidered onto my heart
With thread made from vines
And a sewing needle made from stars.

Flower petals rain down in place of
The blood that seeps from the wounds
That I created myself.

Breathe in,
1, 2, 3.
Breathe out,
1, 2, 3, 4.

I was reluctant
To fall in love.
I was reluctant
To let myself
Be loved.

Your voice is etched in stars,
Glowing and gleaming lighter and lighter blues and golds.
It's carved into my heart,
Stitched right here
Into my soul,
With a needle made from brambles,
And thread made from constellations,
They sew me back together,
They stitch me whole.

Pixie dust scatters in the wind
In place of all the blood that should be dripping
From whatever wounds
May be.

Breath in,
1, 2, 3.
Breathe out,
1, 2, 3, 4.

I am reluctant to let you in,
But I'm letting you in,
And it's gonna hurt because I'm scared,
But it's alright, I know it's alright,
From the way you hold me at night,
To the way you hold my hand.

Your name is etched, stitched onto my heart
With thread made from constellations
And a needle made from stars.

Okay,
Scream.
Okay,
Fight.
Okay,
Call each other
Every bad name in the book.

Glower and glare
And be mutually cruel.

Hollow apologies
Like hollow promises.

What am I supposed to do?
I'm so "mature" because
I'm learning from your mistakes.
Just because you love someone
And you're comfortable with them
Doesn't mean you're allowed
To treat them like ****
Just because you're
Mad
Hurt
Depressed
Whatever.

If you love someone
And they're important
To you
You treat them like it.

End of story.

You're that type of person
Who I try to be grumpy
And angry around.
But you make me so happy,
It's so hard to stay that way.
I'm not used to smiling and laughing
All the time,
The way I do with you.

But I am just so in love with you.

I sabotage things.
Never on purpose.
But I'm not really a "permanent"
Kind of person.
"Sticking around" isn't really my thing.

But, with you, I want a family.
I've never had a real family before.
I've never really been part of one.

But I want it,
Because I am just so in love with you.

And you
Are the kind of person
Who makes my heart flutter against the bones
That make up my ribcage,
And I could only imagine
That the beauty of the sound it makes
Is only half as beautiful
As your voice.

And I am just so in love with you.

And you
Are the kind of person
Who leaves a trail of stardust
Everytime you walk away from my arms,
So that I may always find you again,
So that I may always come back home.

And your heart
Is stitched from the purest golden thread and platinum ore.
And your soul
Is weaved out of the feathers
Of songbirds and the smell of burning gasoline or charcoal.
Your voice smells like pumpkin bread and tastes like strawberry red tea with just a little too much sugar.
Your hand in mine feels like a fire that will never go out.
Your arms around me feel like a warm meal that I'm allowed to eat, not just prepare.
Your voice in my ear sounds like I am finally, without a doubt, free from the shackles that made me who I am, scars and all.

I have never been free before.

Your lips, as you kiss me, taste like home. They taste like safety.

I am just so in love with you.

Drown me in love,
Drown me in music
Let the melody
Carry me
Away.

Drown me
In paper valentines,
Drown me in USB drives
Filled with your music.

Drown me in heartfelt apologies,
Drown me in "I miss you's" and "I love you more's".

I want to inhale
Exhale
Inhale
Exhale
And I want my oxygen
To be replaced
With love for you.

Drown me in love
In kisses,
In loving embraces.

You are the light
Within the darkest nights
I've found.

I've always thought
I would go completely unnoticed
For most of my life,
As though I were
Rain to a body of water,
Or the slight change of the wind
In a tornado.

But it seems
For some reason,
To you,
I am much more drastic
A thing.

And I won't put
Words in your mouth
Or try to find what I could be,
But you seem to take notice of me,
More than I take notice of myself.

And I've found
That I matter to you
In ways
I don't matter to myself.

And maybe
I need to take note,
But I know
You matter to me
Like the sun that warms my skin,
Or the sky that brightens my mood.
Or the rain that brings water,
And the green of the grass
Or the lively sounds of the birds,
You are all that I can fathom,
And that I desire.

It's all about what you do
When nobody cares.

Isn't that life?

No one's making you spend
Lonely nights
Poisoning yourself,
Through and through.

I'm wondering about the future
And
I've got work to do,
To be someone better
Than who I was
Before.

And I've come a long way,
I really think you'd be proud
If you had been there
To watch me grow,
But I guess all that matters
Is that you're here now.

You say that we would've been friends
In high school,
Maybe we would've gotten together sooner,
But darling don't you know?
You would've hated the person I was,
I was a bundle of
Damage and poor attempts
At displays of good intentions.

And I tried too hard,
And I said too little.

And the good I did,
No one saw,
But I wouldn't change a thing
About the lives I touched.
They are who they are,
And I am who I am.

I'm going to keep
Being the me you love,
And I hope as we grow:
We grow together.
And I hope as we grow:
We grow together.

I have my own regrets,
And I grieve over them from time to time.
But life is all about moving forward,
So I guess that's what I'll do--
I'll move forward
With you.

Dad, you always told me
"Don't open that door."
You would say the same words to my brother,
But they didn't mean the same thing.
When you said them to him,
They were a warning.
When you said them to me,
They were a threat.

Dad, you always looked at me
Like I was the problem.
Like I am the reason things got bad.
That I asked for this,
All of this.

Dad, you always looked at me
Like I was the reason mom got sick,
Like I was the reason you couldn't keep a job,
Like I was the reason we lost every house, every apartment, and every picture that reminded us that there was a time when things were good.

Dad, you always looked at me
Like I was the poison,
Not the ***** in your coffee mug,
Not the bugs crawling out of the floorboards,
Not the choices you made.

Dad, you always looked at me
Like I was the reason big brother won't come home.
Like I was the reason your family got torn apart.
But we were never a family, dad. Not really.

Dad, you always looked at me
Like if it wasn't for me
Mom would be so much more alive
Than she is right now.
Like if it wasn't for me,
Your youngest son, my youngest brother,
Wouldn't have spent that Christmas in the hospital,
And we'd still have that apartment.

Dad, you always looked at me
Like I carried everything bad about you
On my shoulders, and that was my own fault.

Dad, you always looked at me
Like I could have closed the door at anytime.
Like I purposely wandered into that room.
Like I meant to be this way.
Like I wanted this.

Dad, you always looked at me
Like it was my own fault
That I was born with the door ripped off its hinges
And that I entered the room of my own volition,
When we both know that was where I was born.

Dad, you always looked at me
Like I was a waste of potential.
Like me being alive
Was your punishment
For all the bad things you've done.

Dad, mom always tells me
How much I look like you.
How I have all your good traits.

Dad, mom always looks at me
Like I could save us.
Like I could bring back the light.
Like I just only need a chance.

Dad, you always told me
That the only person you'd listen to
About your drinking and cruelty
Was me.

Dad, you never listened.

Dad, every time I told you
That I didn't feel safe,
That I was scared,
That I didn't want to be alive,
You always looked at me
Like you didn't understand why I thought you would care.

Dad, when I was little,
You looked at me like
I held stars in my palms.
Like I could do anything.
Like I was worth everything.

Dad, I didn't mean it.
Dad, I really tried to make it go away.

Dad, I'm sorry.

The Storm Siren Theory is thus:
There are persons whose very presence can bring forth the storm within your soul, their own hearts constructed and built from lightning bolts, that blue gray that can only be described as eerie and deathly and beautiful, and humid winds that make your coat billow behind you as though it'll take you far, far away from that mindset that's slowly destroying you.

And even in the darkest depths of your mind or your calm,
They'll call upon the rains within your veins
And they'll touch parts of you that you've long buried and long forgotten.

They come as destructive tsunamis
That destroy you entirely and force you rebuild yourself into some halfhearted something,

Or they come as necessary hurricanes,
That blow through and show you things you've never known,
Whether it be through destruction or rebirth.

It is up to you to be thirsty ground,
Anxiously awaiting your chance to be given a glimpse at this way of life,
Or to be prepared for what chaos it will bring.

I never said I'd be calm/able
I only ever said I'd be here/stable
And I trust you to make me love the rain again,
Because I'll open up to you the parts
That were burned into ashes at the hands of others,
And maybe something better will grow out of my vulnerability
Than ever grew out of being cold and standoffish.

I don't want to love a storm-chaser,
But somehow you found it in you
To love the siren behind the churning clouds.

Look at you.
So forced, so empty.
Look at you.
You keep snarling, "Why you? Why didn't he love me?"

Look at you.
Viciously pulling at marionette strings
That were cut so long ago with so many other things.
Look at you.
Stabbing picture frames.
Look at you.
Cursing my ****** name.

Look at me.
Eyes burning black as tar.
Look at me.
More deadly and more beautiful than a dying star.

Look at me.
Writing word after word, as though words could change anything.
As though I could ever change anything.
Look at me.
Covered in blood, covered in ash.
Look at me.
And you thought you could hurt me with some broken glass.

Type and type
Until my finger tips bleed
And write and write
Until the blisters sting.

Home isn't a place
Where to lay your head down,
Because places have  a tendency
To much like bridges,
Burn to the ground.

And beat your head against the wall,
Over and over
Because of that nagging feeling
In the back of your head
"Not good enough"
Eats away at the parts of you
You considered dead.

But it's getting later,
And you're not getting younger.
But who the hell cares,
I, being the general "you" I mentioned earlier, would wait an eternity to be by your side.

I'm flying away from my troubles.
From the pain,
From the wounds of my past.
And though I'm by your side,
There are plenty of scars along my skin.

And I hope you don't mind,
But I'm a little strange away from home.

But home isn't a place,
It's where my heart is,
And my heart happens to beat
Alongside yours.

No, I'm afraid home isn't a place,
Rather,
It's a heartbeat.

I am made of iron
I am made of fire
I am the steel of your heart
The blaze of your lighter

I am the embrace of your arms,
The warmth of your gaze,

I am the burning cold of the blade
As it cuts them down
As it cuts them down.

I am no damsel in a tower.

I am longing for the skies.

Longing for the skies.

You are the light
That spears my heart,
You were there
From the very start.

If I am the guiding star,
Let me find you,
Wherever you are.

In the depths of
This glistening night
You stand firmly at my left,
But it is right.

My fire is the blade
Of your lance,
And you are the
Burning, yearning
Light of my soul.

I used to think:
Who am I if I am not one with the rain?
Who am I if I am not a storm rolling through?

Who am I if I am not loyal to a fault?
Who am I if I don't risk everything for those I love?

I used to think,
Who am I if I don't fit here?
Who am I if I don't belong here?
Who am I if I'm not like everyone else?

Misshapen puzzle pieces,
Malformed from being left in the rain and sun-dried.
Cardboard hearts with self-inflicted paper cuts
And ribbons tied too tight to look elegant.

I used to think,
Who am I if I'm not who I wanted to be,
And I used to think,
Who am I if I hurt someone I care for?
Who am I if I fear storms?
Who am I if I stand up for myself and fail?

I used to think constantly,
But here's the key:
Don't think,
Don't try,
Act.

I am misshapen puzzle pieces
Left out to dry in the sun.
I am orange and black caterpillars,
And I am yellowing pages of old cloth bound books,
And I am one within the flames
That threaten to devour you.
I am garden snakes
And murders of crows.

It takes a long time to find who you are,
But once you take the time to find whoever it is
You're meant to be,
Well I have to say,
That journey takes some bravery.

I used to think.

He'll destroy you.
Take everything good about you
And rip it down into a skeleton.

I hope you realize
He'll take everything you're confident about
And burn it to the ground.
I hope you realize
He'll use you
As a coping skill.

I hope you realize
He'll move on from you
Rather quickly
Once it's over.

Because it will be over
Rather quickly.
Because men like him
Don't actually want
Things that last,
No,
They want their ego stroked
And the moment you tell them
They're wrong
The monster returns again.

"I haven't been this angry since I was eighteen."
*******.

You just can't stand
Being told you're wrong
Being told you're hurtful
Being told you're not perfect.

He'll hurt you,
And then you'll be left broken-feeling.

But darling you won't be,
You won't be broken.
Men like him
Don't have the power to break you.

Be ready and be prepared.
He cannot break you.

You might be blissful now.
But know that he'll subconsciously try to destroy you.

Keep an ear out
It'll hurt,
But you're strong enough.
I have faith
You'll be okay.

He'll rip you apart,
But you can find those pieces
And put them back better than before.

He's not worth your time,
But maybe you're like how I was.
Foolish, naive, hopeful,
And a little too kind.

You are young,
So it does happen.

Good luck to you,
Child.
Good luck.

You will need it,
For the road you have chosen
Is a road that leads to your own pain.

I am sending you
Prayers.

You will need them.

Also don't flinch.
It only makes him worse.

Every time you tell me
That you love me
It means a little more
Than it did
The last time
You said it.

And I know you mean it,
So it's easy for me to say
That we're meant to be,
Like the way humans
Like the smell of gasoline
Because that's the way space smells,
Because that's the scent dying stars give off,
And it  reminds us of our past lives.
(We're all stardust, anyway.)

I am not
****
Or hot
Or attractive.

Not in the way other girls are.

My parents used to tell me
That I have the face of an angel,
Which is why I'll never look like the other girls.

I'm not flirty or funny or ****.

Maybe that's why you don't touch me as often.

I don't blame you.

I'm a tear-stained mess.

I'm full of shrapnel and broken glass.
I'm stitched from thorns and vines.
I am not a Goddess
Or anything ethereal.

I am born of the earth and wind,
My compassion is the flowing river,
And my will is a burning inferno,
And I thought it would never go out.

But now,
I am a handful of burning embers.

"Why do you live like you're out of time?"
She threw her hands  into the air at the question.
The clock ticks and tocks but never reaches
The time they settled on.
She throws her hands up into the air and lets them collapse into
White-knuckled fists
At her sides.

"Why do you live like you're out of time?!"
He clenched his fists at the remark,
He drank his will to live away,
Because why not?
He smoked until his lungs turned black,
And drank until his head would spin,
And then drank until it stopped.

And she lives like there's no time left,
Because she's been left bereft
Of shade, of color, of willingness to keep at it,
Whatever "it" is.
Because for her,
There is no time left.
She's on her ninth life,
No time left to dilly-dally,
She's gotta make this worth it,
She's gotta give this meaning.

And he clenches his fist,
And punches through the wall.
He ignores the dry wall
Stuck in his skin,
As his head continues to spin.
He lives like he's out of time,
There's no time left
Because he can't figure out
If he's meant for this world,
Or another.
But what if there isn't
Another?
And it makes his stomach tie itself in knots,


Because loneliness
And emptiness
Does terrible things
To people who aren't so terrible.

I sign my letters
usually with a dash and then my name,
or a "Yours Truly,"
because of a song I heard
when I was, I think, seventeen.

maybe eighteen.

but if I were to write you
a letter
I'd fill it with all the different ways
you light up my soul
or all the different ways
you fill up my heart

and if I were to write you,
I'd kiss the seal of the envelope
to make sure you felt me somehow,
and if I were to write you,
I'd send the letter with sugar and oatmeal raisin cookies,
and red and black tea.
and if I were to write you,
I wouldn't unless you were too far away
to hold.

because as much as I simply adore letters
and the written word
having you in my arms now
is much too important
to miss out on.

yours truly,
and yours forever.

Dear God,
Do you know how much
I wish that
That's not true?

We're going back and forth.
With music.
With songs that mean something to us.
I opened up about my fear
Of losing my mom
With a song by the Wonder Years.

I just sent you a song that makes me think of you
(When your Heart Stops Beating by +44)
And a song that hits me a little too hard
(Jesus Christ by Brand New).

He says "My bright is too slight to hold back all this dark"
And I'm so scared that's true.
What if it's true?

The fear eats me up at night,
In my nightmares.
When I wake up in cold sweats,
Crying.
Screaming.

I just want the guilt to stop.

But the sun the peers out
From behind the clouds,
And all of a sudden
I'm okay.

Because you want to know
Or because I know I'm okay.

I don't need to think about it.
My past isn't my future.
My guilt doesn't define me.

And it's twisted and it's ******,
But I'm just learning to convince myself that all
The people that have left and that all the harm done unto me,
Wasn't a result of some fault of mine.

It's hard to extract and tear and rip guilt
From your system.
It leaves you with some scrapes and bruises.

I'm listening to more Modern Baseball.
My favorite album, it's called "Sports".

"You've got a certain who-knows-what about you."

I don't want it to be like the song that line is from.

Why is music making me so nervous?

I wish I could hold you.
I wish I could touch you.
But the distance is too far,
The distance is too wide--
For now.

And my eyelids
Are heavy.
I want to drift off
Into some type of
Week long sleep.

I miss you
More than I think you can understand.

And sometimes I wonder,
Did I ever love anyone before you?

Because I don't really think I did.
I don't think I ever did.

And if I did,
It wasn't quite the same
As this.

Love is a funny thing.
It's always the same,
And it's always different.

But I know how I love you.
I know it's the type of love
That will take a lifetime to get over,
And I know it's the type of love
That lasts forever.

I am a firm believer
That those who are meant to be in your life
Always have a tendency
Of coming back.

And I am lucky
To have found
Someone like you,
Who wants to stick around.

Panic floods my senses,
I can feel the tremors
In my hands
Starting up.

I am shivering
Though I am not cold.

Senseless triggers,
Unlike usual.
Being treated
Like a burden
Having my
Intelligence
Questioned,
Being anything less
Than what I aspire to be.

Shaky text messages,
Shaky typing
Lots of typos
Going back
Editing to make it look like
I'm a-okay.

I want to see
You.
I want to talk
To you.
Hear your voice.
Hold your hand.

At the very least
I want to hear your voice
I love you.
You love me.
I know you do.

Don't make me say I need you,
Though we all know it's true.

I spent all week afraid
Of something that would never happen,
And it kept me up all night,
This fear,
And my ridiculous inability to block out thoughts or noises.

And you told me that you love me,
And nothing has really changed because,
Well, why would it?
I was being ridiculous.

And now that I know that,
I can finally
(hopefully)
Sleep.

It doesn't feel real,
That you love me.
That I'm yours.
That you're mine.
That we've got rings on our fingers.

I look at you,
And it's like a dream.
Not like my usual ones.
It's like pixie dust and fairy glitter.
It's like the morning dew and budding wild flowers.
It's like the taste of honeysuckle and too-strong green tea.

I feel your hand on my hand
Or your hand on my thigh
Or your hands on my hips,
Or your hand running through my hair,
As innocently as possible,
And I feel like I belong.
I belong right there,
Beside you.

And that's why it scares me.

My anger with you,
Roots from my utter disappointment
In the spineless little squid
You've become.

You're a coward.
I'd call you a monster,
But you're just a bottom feeder.

You're not better than the shrimp
I shred to consume
So I can continue living.

You don't matter.
You did once,
You were good once,
You were kind once
Your heart and soul were pure,
ONCE.

But today all the promises
And hopes you gave,
Were lies,
And destroyed lives
And I hope you feel guilty.
I hope you feel regret.

Because I may forgive you,
But I'll never forget what you did to me.
You
Won't
Live
This
Down.