Take the knife
That they dug into my spine,
And pull it out.

Pull it out.

And take the knife
That they dug into my spine,
And plunge that knife
Into my stomach.

That's what love feels like.

It feels like asking someone
To plunge a knife into your stomach,
Only the knife isn't for stabbing,
It's for cutting out the infection
That everyone else left inside you.

So take the knife out of my stomach,
And stitch me back up
With thread and glue,
Dab at the wound with alcohol and hydrogen peroxide,
And I'll writhe in pain,
Until the aching and the itching subsides.

Didn't you know?
Didn't you hear?

Love is a risk for anybody.

It's all about who you're willing
To jump that cliff for.

And whether or not
You fall
Or you fly.

I'm not much.
I don't know how much I have to offer.
I cook.
I clean.
I'm always thinking of you,
And things I could do
To make you smile.

Whether it be food to make
(Which always seems to fail)
Or books to give
(At least it gets some reaction)
Or, sadly, ***.

And that one is the one that eats me up inside.

Because I crave ***, but only with you.
And I use it as a tool
To validify myself.
Because I'm not pretty
Or worthwhile
Unless I can serve a purpose.

People say you deserve the love you try ao hard to give to everyone else.

They also say that if you expect the same from people that you give, you'll always be disappointed.

I guess the point is, I am only valued for as long as I am useful.

No one's really ever proud of you
Until you do exactly what they say.
So no one will ever be proud of me,
But I'm okay with that.

I'm proud of me.

And I'm proud of you too.

Life is tough,
Life is hard,
And if I could punch my mental illness in the throat,
I'd do it.

And if I could stitch together all the shaky parts of you,
I would.
But if they didn't quiver from time to time,
They'd lose their character,
And I like that you have character.

Everyone has some type of insecurity,
I just happen to be a pistol and fire away at mine.

And when everyone's getting you down,
Listen above the crowd.
Hear above the noise,
Remember that I'm proud of you.

I am proud of your smile,
I am proud of your effort,
I am proud of your big victories
And your small victories.

And I know it probably doesn't mean much,
Coming from someone like me
(Meek, shy, and timid most of the time)
But I'm proud of you each and every day.

Flock together and whisper
Quiet calls of hurt pride
And spiteful fallacies.
Whisper things uncertain
Whisper "facts" so mangled
They are made to look
Like twisted fantasy.
Whisper softly
Whisper quietly
Whisper.
Maybe that's my problem.
I've been so busy
Spouting off the truth
That they just think
This shrieking revelation
Is screaming.
While you whisper lies
I will scream the truth.
Keep your head down,
Play a game of telephone
With hushed voices.
Get ready,
Though,
Because hearts of true gold,
Not fools gold,
Will stand and hear the
"Based on real events"
Battle cry.
- I wanted to be a vigilante but instead I work a desk job (Otherwise known as "The Unreleased Works of Those With Higher Thinking (our arrogance will get us farther than you)")

I'm tired of letting my high hopes destroy me.

It hurts, but I have to let go sooner or later.

I'm done.

Your heart,
Golden like my intentions.
Your voice,
Soft orange and inviting blue cascading through me like warmth I've never felt,
Safety I've never known.

Your hands trail my body,
Warm and somewhat calloused,
Tickling me softly,
Enough to force laughter out
But not quite enough to cause pain.

And kissing my lips,
My cheeks,
My face,
Flooding me with sensations
Of overwhelming love and kindness.

And I am content,
And I am happy,
And everything is well,
For the first time
In a very long time.

Close your eyes.
Put a hand over my heart,
Do you feel the missing part?
Help me take off and fly.

Can you hear the cry?
And I can't stand to be apart,
And this information I must impart
Upon you and I

That I must know
That the love I see is true.
Each day, every day, colors grow,
And so does my love for you,
And to and fro comes the glow
That is my heart's glance upon your eyes (and wings) so blue.

Okay okay okay okay
I know cursing isn't quite lady like
But what?

Why?

Look at all these tears!

I'm so scared,
Because I'm closer to the edge,
To the cliff that could lead to my falling or our flying
Than I thought
And holy crap *******
I'm so scared because why?

This is so familiar,
So right,
Like a warm hearth
That's always been there
I just never knew where to look
And how why what's going on
Why does this scare me so much
I don't want to be this invested,
But I'm so invested already.

What
How
Did this happen?

I'm terrified
Absolutely terrified.
Happy. Beyond happy.
But scared.
I've never had issues with commitment before,
I've never been afraid of being let down before,
But right now,
Here and now
I'm so scared.

Yeah, I hate rejection,
But that's a human thing.

I've never been so scared
To admit what I feel
But I'm so ******* scared
Holy ******* ****
What do I do?

This sense of blind panic
And fear
And the urge to physically run
As fast and as far as I possibly can
Really isn't helping my asthma.

And I'm having these miniature flashbacks
To when I was pressured into believing love was forced.
And into when I thought loving potential could count
But this is different.
I've loved before.
But it was different.
We knew it wouldn't last,
His dreams took him too far
And my dreams were too domestic.
So we didn't even try.

But **** it,
What am I supposed
To even say?

It's not about familiarity or it being simple or easy
It's about a need
A craving
To see your smile or make you laugh or better some aspect of your life
That makes even this difficult part of life,
That being my newly developing issues with committing to and expressing this feeling
Because of fear,
Refreshing.

Safe.

It's not that you're a safe bet.

It's that you're the only bet I'm willing to risk making.

Did that even make sense?

What
How
Maybe I am damaged
But **** the world if I won't try to be better,
I'm going to be better.

Hand me a needle and thread,
I'll stitch together these tears in my flesh
And pass the glue
I'll put the pieces back myself,
I just might need you around for this part too
Because I only have two hands,
And I'm a ******* mess.
But I can be put back together again.
I can do it myself, as I've said,
But having someone around to hand you the supplies
(Like sewing needles, thread, glue, scissors, and lots of gauze)
Is extremely helpful,
And kind of necessary to not get tangled in your own stitches.

I don't know how to handle this.
Maybe I'll just wait.
Should I stop nearing the edge of the cliff?
But the wind is at my back,
Almost begging me to take off.
Just go, see how far I'll make it alongside you.

It's so natural.
So necessary.
Nothing is forced,
It all just...
Happens.

How can something that feels so right,
Something so real,
Make me so scared?

Okay whatever
Forget it.
Hit the ground running,
Come out swinging,
All the cliches
With the wind at my back
I'm as ready as I'll ever be
Which means I'll never be,
But I need to be so let's go.
C'mon life.

Gimme all you got.

I've lived my life
In the clutches of hatred.

I'd love to watch parts of the world burn,
But I'm done taking my self-hatred out on
The world
And everyone better than me.

Yeah,
I guess you could say I'm angry.
But I'm angry at myself,
For never being good enough
For anyone.

I want to be a mom.
A homemaker.
I want to be happy.
I want to make others happy.

I want to see you smile
At me, while I wear an off-white dress,
And I want to see you smile
At children I want to give you.

And I want to be the woman
That makes your dark days a little bit brighter,
And I want to be the woman
That will sit with you in the rain.

I want to be the person
That will stand beside you every step of the way.
I want to be the one
That will do my best to lift you up.

I want to be the girl
You remember
And even better.

I want to be the person
That helps you grow and helps you be
Who you want to be.

And I am going to love you
Until the end of days,
And even then some.

I feel like nothing.
Like I'm washed up and overrated.
Like I'm some type of loss,
But not quite unimportant enough
To go unnoticed,
But not quite important enough
To really be vied after.

And maybe it's just me,
Because honestly it doesn't strike me bad
Enough to make me cry,
But it strikes me enough to sigh,
And know this is what I'm probably worth.

A response,
A small phrase of comfort,
But probably nothing more,
Probably nothing less.

But I so desire
To be held and told
That maybe it's alright,
That maybe I'll be able
To sleep tonight.

But how can I rest,
How can I breathe,
When the monsters come for me
Even in my dreams.

There's no escape,
And there's nowhere to run.
He's destroyed what worth I had,
And I'm just so done.

And wish I may,
And wish I might,
I don't have it in me,
I can't fight the past-- Can I even fight?

I wanted to be braver,
I wanted to be stronger.
But I can't do it on my own,
I can't do it any longer.

I know for sure that you'll
Help me get through,
But I'm terrified of
What this means for you.

And I'm absolutely terrified,
Of something I can't see.
It's this monster I know too well,
It's this monster that follows me.

I wish I could
Change my way,
But I don't know what to do,
Nor do I know what to say.

And I love you so,
And I know you love me too,
But with this monster beside me,
What are we supposed to do?

I need your arms around me,
As soon as you can manage.
I hope you read this.
What the hell rhymes with manage?

I want you to know
I love you so
And as I drift off
I imagine being in your arms
And I want so bad
for it to be real.
because you are my
light.

I love you,
Bluebird,
And have you not heard?
Don't you know?
Life is what you make it.
and I choose to make a life with you.

You like her because she's confident.
You love me because I'm smart and kind.

Her confidence is flirty and self deprecating.

It's not her fault.

It's not your fault.

My confidence is sarcastic, and witty, and viciously venomous.

You wouldn't like me if I were confident, I guarantee that.

But kindness and intelligence and beauty
Do nothing against the allure of confidence.

It's no one's fault but mine.

This is one of the hardest things.

Telling you what's wrong.

About all my insecurities.

And you promise to fix it,
Everytime.

But everytime,
Nothing changes.

You walk on ahead,
With him.
With her.

And I am barely out of the car.

It ***** to tell you I'm hurt.

But biting the bullet and admitting the truth
Is better than letting it fester,
Like the infection it's become

see me, ******!*
I shout into the void.

know me, ******!
I scream into nothingness.

please!
I beg
acknowledge me!
I whisper into the vast blankness
of existence.

I just want to be somebody
I whimper
*just somebody to someone.

Close your eyes.

It doesn't hurt at all, I promise.

If you get scared, you can squeeze my hand. I don't mind.

I know it looks bad, but it's okay. It's all okay.

You don't need to be afraid.

I promise.

But when I open my eyes,
I find rather quickly
That there's no one else here.
I was talking to myself.
Reassuring myself.

The room is blank.
Grey.
The light that comes from
The only window
Is dull and grey.
Overcast.

It's the only thing that's comforting here.

It's too quiet. Too empty.
Too hollow.

The silence is deafening.
My chest feels heavy.

If I close my eyes,
For a second,
I can remember another place.
A place with color.
A place with you.

For a second,
I can imagine it.
I can pretend I'm there.

I can almost feel you there,
For a second.

But it doesn't last nearly long enough,
And then you're gone.

The problem is,
This room doesn't exist.
It's a metaphor.

Because the moments in time that I feel (almost) normal,
Where I am (almost) passing for neurotypical,
That's when I see you.
I'm there.
I can almost reach you,
Touch you.
I can almost be like you.
I can almost...
Almost.

I can only ever almost.
And almost has never been enough.

And I can tap my hands against yours,
Or rub my scars,
Or hold my doll closer to me,
Or bounce up and down,
But all the stimming in the world
Won't keep me calm forever
And it won't make me better.

And I just want to be better.
I don't want to be sick.
I'm so sick of being sick.

I've tried accepting it all as part of me.
As it being me.

But I can't.

Because I see the way you look at me.
It's the same way everyone looks at me
When they think I don't notice.
I know that look.
It's the same look that teachers gice their students when they just can't help them with their problem.
The only good thing as that you don't
Use the voice that everyone else does.
I know that voice, too.
It's the same voice people use when talking to a scared animal that might become hostile.

I am not an animal.

I am not a lost cause!

But I see the way you look at me.
I know that look.
Everyone gives me that look,
Once they figure it out.

I am not an animal,
I am not a lost cause.
At least,
That's what I keep trying to tell myself.

But I don't even believe it anymore.

I want to be better.
I want to be better,
But I don't think I can be the better
You want me to be.

You all claim to be
Pro-life,
But where are the people
Who are pro-living?

And your
Lack of a cause
Has done what, exactly, to change
This world for the better?

Throw words around
Like they're *****.
But I'll brush them off
And wear them as a badge of honor.

Your feigned apathy
Towards fixing the problem
Is hindering the solution.

Just because you have no personal responsibility
Doesn't mean you have no responsibility at all.

You're scared of real feminism,
Because you think it will operate how
Your patriarchy does:
Violently and without remorse
Or consequence.

You fear equality for races
Because you believe
It will work the same way
Your oppression does:
Mercilessly and lacking real punishment.

You refuse to lend a hand to others,
To those dying in the streets,
Whether it be this nation or another,
Because you believe you won't get anything back.

And you claim to be pro-life,
Because someone yet to be born
Has no sin,
Is an innocent life.
But the moment they breathe in
All this air,
They are cast with original sin,
And you get to decide their fate.

And you claim to be pro-life,
But you're the one who makes the judgment,
You're the one who decides whether they live a life worth living
Or die a death unfitting.

And you claim you're pro-life,
But when there are
Children going hungry,
And parents getting sick,
And riots or bombs in the streets,
And hate crimes becoming
More and more and more
Can you tell me that you care?
That you'll do more than stop and stare?

You all claim to be
Pro-life,
But where are the people
Who are pro-living?

You have to remind yourself
That the negative things
Humans point out about you
Are usually the worst things
They see
In themselves.

So rip me
To shreds.
So tear me
Apart.

I am empty,
I am bleeding,
I am yours
For the taking.

But I certainly hope
That they know
I will sooner
Or later
Care less.

"If you feel so miserable about your life that you must try to hurt others, then I sincerely
And whole heartedly
Feel bad for you.
I might only be
5'1", but I would never want
To be that small."

Ignite the flair in my eyes/the burning light within my bones/break my bones/watch me crumple/bruise me/break me/turn salt water/to blood.

I turn darkness/to fire/I turn your qualms/to fear/I am the outlier/I am the thunder/The lightning/The rain/The clouds/You cannot break me/For you-- and no other born of man-- has that much power.

For I am Powerhouse.

And it isn't my place to cut you down,
But I didn't say I couldn't prepare you.

I miss you,
And I keep trying not to think
About all the reasons I miss you
And all the things I miss about you.
Because if I think about them,
I'll miss you more
And it will hurt more
Until I hear from you again.

I miss you,
And your smile.
And your voice.
And your laugh.
And your arms around me.
And your lips on mine.
And your thoughts,
And your ideas,
And your colors,
And your absolute everything.

I miss the way you
Hold my hand,
I miss the way you
Kiss my scars,
I miss the way you
Look at me and smile.

I miss you,
And I love you.
And it's this odd thing
About how all the missing parts of me
Seem to be found
When I have you around.

I would choose your storm
Over the chance of sunshine.

I would choose your winter
And blizzard
Over the chance of warmth.

I would rather get caught in your downpour
Than be within someone else's
Sunny weather.

I would  choose you on your worst day,
Than anyone else on their best.

Because even during your worst,
Most heinous torrential rain,
You are still my first choice,
My only choice.

In seven years, I will have new skin.
Skin that no cruel entities have touched.

But it has been seven years,
Since I have seen a person who I have
Always cared for.
Of course at ten,
You don't realize how much care
Is actually there.

I have known him for eleven years,
And haven't seen in in seven.

And he's so wonderful,
With aqua eyes that reflect laughter and pain and beauty of so many kinds.
I forgot how much I care about him,
How wonderful his laugh is,
His sense of humor,
His voice.

I forgot how much I care
About the wonder that is his smile,
And his understanding.

I'm not great at love poems,
But a "like" one I think I can do.

He likes DC more than Marvel,
And he likes the Green Lantern (Hal Jordan),
And his favorite cookies are oatmeal raisin.

I want to fight alongside him,
In the struggle of life.
I want to laugh with him,
As my friend
(And hopefully more)
For a long time.

The thing about being a poet,
Is that I drink so my thoughts become whole,
Not fruitless worries
And anxious ramblings.

The thing about being a poet,
Is that I find beauty in the most gruesome
Of circumstance.

The thing about being a poet,
Is that I'm most likely unstable,
And my emotions are extremely unsound.

I have an addiction to feeling, to rmotion, the way other artists are addicted to drugs, or alcohol,  or ***.

I crave love and I crave honesty. Admiration and trust. Loyalty and stimulation.  Dedication and, of course, the aching pain that reminds me I am alive.

I need to know I am alive.

So, the thing about being a poet,
Is that I write
So I may
Live.

It's funny
When you're emotionally hurt,
That you can feel your heart
Dropping into your stomach.

She's so much better,
You always smile when she talks to you.

I don't think it's going to become anything,
No.
But it still hurts that I can't make you smile like that.

She's funny and honest, and doesn't know as much as me in the areas I'm well versed in. But she knows about the things you like or know a lot about,
And she's super skinny.

She's much skinnier than me.

So much skinnier.

I'm never eating again.

I used to be thick, inky black regret
Spilling out of an old, tightly closed glass coca cola bottle.

I used to be road rash.

I used to be getting stuck too many times at the hospital, and still no luck with the IV.

I used to be "but these pills are such a pretty color..."

I used to be "but what else is there for me?"

I used to be a lot of things.

Now I am just the blood in your veins,
I am the chilled fall air,
And I the oxygen in your lungs,
I am the carbon of your bones.

I am marrow,
I am mind.
I am all you know,
And each twist in time.

I am the worlds end,
And I am the worlds start.

I am every single part,
Every single note
Of every single quote

I thought I left behind.

You are the air that I breathe,
The songs that I sing.
You are the sunsetsunrise
That I need.

You are the moonrisemoonset
The noon time
I never met

Your heart is all I ever needed
And I am so proud to keep it.

I've never had a good relationship with my father.

The moment I started forming opinions of my own,
The moment I started to spit fire and venom,
Instead of smile in a sugary sweet way at every turn,
He decided I wasn't really worth all the effort,
Or any kindness whatsoever.

He thinks I know too much,
Or I know too little.
He thinks I talk too much,
Or I talk too little.

He thinks I'm too cold,
Or foolishly warm.
He thinks I'm too open,
Or much too closed off.

My father cares more about a bottle,
Than he ever cared about me.
And you wonder why I have trouble
Bringing myself to drink.

And the thing I hate most about me,
Is that I prefer the smell of books
Over the smell of flowers,
And that I prefer the typing of a keyboard
Over the notes of a piano.
I'd drink scotch over wine,
Every time.

And that's my father's blood
Running through my veins,
And I hate the person
He's made.

I am cold and I don't trust.
I don't smile and I don't laugh.
I have a hot temper
And I always react.

My father is the type of guy
Who goes on and on about being liberal,
But thinks dancing wrong
Or touching someone the wrong way
Is an invitation
For ***.

And if I disagree,
We fight and we fight,
And he's ashamed of me,
But I don't care anymore.

And you can agree with any point he's made,
But you disagree with one key factor
And you're the enemy,
And you're wrong.

He thinks people who are on medication
Are always wrong.
And he thinks people who don't take meds,
But need them,
Are batshit.

My father doesn't care about
Others feelings
Or the damage he does,
He sometimes only cares about
His pride
And his ******* scotch and *****.

I am hot headed
And stubborn.
I am a smart aleck,
And I'm way too sarcastic.

But I am my father's daughter.

And I hate the person he's made.

I will not omit
Any piece or part
Or scar or flaw
That is mine
For your comfort.

I do not care
If you cannot find comfort
Because I refuse
To powder my face snow white
Like pancake batter,
And hide, like a fraud,
My broken insecurities
And darkest scars.

I will be rude
And I will be sarcastic.
I will be obnoxious
And I will be intelligent.

I will be honest,
And raw
And real.
If you cannot handle that,
Little girl,
Well,
You wouldn't be the first.

I am strong,
For I have been broken,
But not by you,
No,
A mere human could not break the likes of me.
I have been broken
By aspects of life
I could not circumvent.

But I will be brave
And strong
And I will fly.

Without insects in sight.

Your voice and the color of your tone
Plays on repeat in my head,
And I'm stuck, stuck, stuck,
On everything I should have said.

Sometimes I'm a broken record,
And that's okay, that's kinda neat,
At least I'm a record at all,
Vinyl just won't admit defeat.

I'm glass work,
Built by wind and flame and coarse earth,
To create something so fragile and beautiful,
With colors spiraled about.

You are cold metal,
Only warm with the heat of my skin
Holding you tight.
Built from the iron of the blood from 4000 grown men,
And water and heat and other bits of science and smithing I don't quite understand.

I am air,
Soft and warm but cool in the heat of summer,
Gently kissing leaves, wind chimes, and your face in the humidity
In order to allow you to breathe again.
I am the harsh winds of a hurricane,
Destroying all in its path,
Reducing houses and homes to shrapnel and rubble and dust.
I am your first breath of fresh, cold winter air, when you cannot breathe
Because it was all too much, too much, and you're too young to really know why.
I am cold but comforting, there and real without being seen or known.
I am the whisper within the trees, from the waters, carrying smoke along my back to warn you of danger.

You are earth.
Steadfast and solid,
Stubborn and real.
Honest.
You are the rocks and stones that hold meaning and power within their pools of color and opaque surfaces.
You are the avalanche of boulders and pebbles that fall and destroy
All that so choose to come in its' path.
You are the soft soil in which you urge new life to grow,
Within soft and gentle hands, urging it forward and through the surface,
So that all may look in awe of its' beauty,
While you are wrapped tight around its roots so that you may protect
And nurture it with all that you are.

I am the color that spirals through your heart and within noise,
I am the burst of soft light that grows too large, too bright, too quickly,
And I am simultaneously too much and not enough.

And you are soft and stark shades of gray and black,
Pooling in to balance the colors that I have poured everywhere,
Adding definition and understanding
Of why they are what they are,
You are just in time and you are just right.

Thoughts of you are warm and lulling me to sleep.
Thoughts of me are dizzying and overpowering.

There's not much to what I have to say,
It could be said softly,
"I love you,"
Or loudly,
"My love for you is vastly infinite, more so than the universe, and more so than the expanse of the mind."

Your voice and the color of your tone
Plays on repeat in my head,
And I'm stuck, stuck, stuck,
On everything I should have said.

The funny thing about crying yourself to sleep
Is waking up confused
Because you don't recognize
The reality of your parents room,
From the delusion of your nightmare.

And the funny thing about lying awake at night,
Blasting music as loud as you can,
And trying to make your breathing
Inaudible
But each breath is
More strained than the last,
Is when you think back with a
"I never thought this is how my life would turn out."

And the funny thing about recalling
Making lunch in the kitchen,
And suddenly choking back
Strangled sobs
After realizing I love you.
And my mom rushing into the kitchen,
Asking me what's wrong,
And I cried so hard
Because I was so scared
To love you.
Is that it wasn't about you,
It was about the fear that you could
Now have the power
To take all my vulnerable parts
And leave without giving them back to me.

And the funny thing about
While blotting at my eyes,
That every part of me
Is wholly and entirely yours,
And upon that I also found,
Is that maybe no part of me
Was ever mine and mine alone.

But the funny thing is, you have proven
Time and time again
Within all my efforts
Amidst anxiety and panic
To subconsciously push you away,
That you're here,
Truly here,
To stay.

The funny thing about crying,
Is that it's not always about the tears,
And the incoherent hiccups
Aren't always about pain.

The funny thing about being this emotional,
Is that you love with all you are,
And when someone finally loves you back
The same way,
It's like seeing the face of God,
As Victor Hugo once said.

The funny thing about forgiveness,
Is that it doesn't always have to come from the
Person you've done wrong.
The funny thing about love
Is that it feels a lot like forgiveness
And the grace of light.

The funny thing about life,
Is that it never turns out how you thought it would,
And that's good.

The funny thing is
I really think
I like how
My life is turning
Out.

Slamming doors,
Stomping feet,
Angry tone,
And vicious eyes.

Screaming.
Yelling.
Harsh words.

And instead of flinching,
Unlike then,
Right here and right now
My fist clenches,
And I want to scream
"What power do you have?
Other than inflicting fear upon those that are weaker than you?"

And I feel nothing for those that have
Left me bruised and scarred,
Spitting up blood during my
Graduation ceremony.

Not contempt,
Not anger,
Maybe a little fear.

And when I feel rage
Coursing through my veins,
I'm suddenly calmed my a thought,
Sweet and Simple:

"My Bluebird."

And it's a song,
It's a smell,
It's a feeling of warmth and calm,
It's sanity in a good way,
Insanity in the best way.

My Bluebird of Peace,
Brings calm around me,
Brings the sizzling, explosive temper I possess,
Down into nothing.

He lifts me into the light of day,
When I'm overcast.
He pulls me into the warmth of human decency,
When I don't feel human at all.
There's a certain "who-knows-what" about him,
And I'm more than willing to find what it is,
And hold it to my heart with all the defensive protection
I can muster up.

Golden rays of sun,
Glistening down from the heavens,
And I'd rather be here with him
Than anywhere else.
A sky so blue it wraps you in the warmth
Of the sweet summer breeze,
That you almost can't feel because the humidity coats your wind pipe.

And birds flutter and sing in the distance,
And the soft call of a crow can be heard farther off,
And a song thrums in the back of my head,
And I feel a flounce and flutter in my heart,
And I want to feel the beat of his heart
Against my back
As we fall asleep.

The smell of apple cider
On a winters day,
And the warmth of the fire,
As my hands spread across a blanket,
To link fingers with his.

I want to remember
This feeling of being in love
Forever.
Yet I know,
I will be in love
With him until the end of days.

Knuckles white,
Bared teeth that clack together with every barked out, growled out insult.

Black eyes that show nothing but cold ferocity,
And your tears reflected in the churning, opaque surface.

Red lips, curled over teeth that are too light,
And a tongue that's too sharp.

The silver tongued flattery is gone, any sense of mercy or humanity within her words is gone.

She's throwing insults,
And they're pointed but not full of curse words.
Things like,
"Your useless daddy issues and ability to use people to give you a sense of self worth makes you even more pathetic than I previously had thought,"
Or
"How emotionally unstable and black heart'd do you have to be to lie through your teeth and attempt at wounding people worlds smarter than you are, you sick freak?"

Something else about crying wolf and worthless worms.

She analyzes people to dehumanize them.

You're sickened by her words and ability to be so cruel,
And the hot rage boiling inside her makes you feel queasy,
So you slam the door and lock it,
Locking her away.

She wasn't talking about you,
But she is you,
And that scares you more
Than you're sickened by the people she was talking about.

Tear me apart
Rip me to shreds
What does it matter?
Break me
To shape me
Into what you want me
To be.

You aren't the first
To try
And I doubt
You will be
The last.

While I will proclaim
"You cannot break me,"
You know fully well
How broken I'm feeling.

I try so hard
To do right
By you
And all
It boils down
To are my flaws.

You are no better
Than those
You judged.

Does it stir something inside you
When you make young girls cry?

Do you use their tears as some type of lubricant
For your old and tired emotions
That you claim you never had?

What about when they sob and choke
On their words as they cling to your legs,
Repeating "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry, please don't go."
Over and over and over again after you've made them feel like utter ****
At their most vulnerable point?

What about when their tears stain your shirts,
Because you held them during a nightmare
That involved you doing what you're doing
Right now?

Did you care at all?
Are you the monster you said you'd never be?
I think you are.

Because you got off
On my misery.
You wanted to fight
To feel strong.

You use self destructive tendencies
And manipulative tactics
To create fake battle scars
For a war that never happened.
A war that you're trying to start.

Get off on my scars,
Use my tears to get hot,
But know that your
Need to cause melancholic pain
Wherever you go
Disgusts me and those who know
This side of you
Will leave you,
Just as you left me.

Let my tears
Give you life
While I take my life back.

I hope the last tears I shed over you,
Make you smile.
Because you never deserved them.

I cannot identify stars
Or constellations,
But I can make a shape
Make a something
Out of anything
You put in front of me.

But as for the constellation Virgo,
There is a star known as a Spica,
Sixteenth brightest star in the sky,
Brightest in its' constellation.
And despite all that I've read,
And despite all my hopes and dreams,
This is a star,
I thought I would never get to see.

Because stars are not meant to be seen
And kept.
Rather held in our hearts
Like secret memories
To remind us of homes
We've never had.

And trust me,
I can tell you all about homes
I've never had.

But I don't want to,
Not today.

I want to tell you about a Virgo,
Born under Spica,
In the ruling house of Mercury,
And all the love I carry in my heart for him,
And how my whole body aches to be held by him,
And my skin shivers in wait of his touch,
And how much my heart shudders and aches
For his presence and being
To be close to mine.

I am that person
That is slightly off center

My moral compass
Almost always
Points North,
But I have a tendency
To get lost.

I am told that I am "good".

But please,
Define "good"?

Because there are twisted,
Inky black parts to my heart.

But I will always
Try to be stronger
Than my darkness.

It is hard to pretend
I am solely a creature of Light,
But if I don't,
Then I will cave in
And be consumed by
My own shadow.

"Darkness, real darkness, is more than just a lack of light."

You wanted to help me
Even when exhausted
And my worst fear that came true,
Didn't push you far away from me.

And you're probably dozing off,
Or looking drowsily at your phone,
But I am so proud to be your
Hummingbird.

I wish you could have seen
The way you made me beam
Tonight.

I was called "Little Bird"
Precious, small, and brave.

I call you Bluebird.
Calm, peaceful, bright.
A thousand other adjectives,
I don't feel the need to list.

But I'm looking at this edge.
This cliff
That I am swiftly approaching.

Fall or fly.
Fall or fly.

Those are my only two options.
I've come too far for the third,
Which was turn around.

Fall or fly.
I mean, I'll fall anyway.
That's the only way I'll be able to fly.
But what if I lift off immediately.

Or what if I fall and I feel like I'm flying?

Only one way to find out.

Let's hope these broken wings,
Will take to the air,
If only to trail behind
The blue wings
I adore.

You have ever right to hate me.

And even still,
You don't.

This will always confuse me.

I wear the blue bloodstone you gave me
Around my neck,
Locked away in a spiral cage.

But your eyes shimmer
And shine
In the darkness.
And you have galaxies in your eyes,
So I guess it's fitting
That what I give you in turn,
Has galaxies trapped inside it.

I know
I am terribly difficult to love.
And I know
I am terribly easy to leave.

But you're it.
You're all I need.

And I hold the cold
Dyed agate you gave me in my hand
Until the stone gets warm
From what little body heat
I have to give.

I can only pray
That you'll come home
Safe and sound
With lots of love for me,
Because I know when you come home
I'll have lots of love
To give you.

I keep cutting out
Pieces of myself
To give
Everyone else,
Expecting to receive the love
I so desperately try to give.

Hoping someone
Somewhere
Will finally stay.

But Frost said
Nothing gold can stay.
And maybe I was wrong.
And maybe he was actually right.

Whisper to me
Softly,
Am I worth your time?
And with each and every
Word that just so happens
To rhyme,
I will take my chances,
And answer in kind.

You are the flame
Burning in my heart,
And the red string of fate
Tangles around me
Just so,
That I fall into your arms,
And am tangled within yours.

I see pictures of
The human heart,
And like every work of art,
Have you ever wondered
Why it is the way it is?

The shape we know
As a heart,
Is supposed to be two human hearts
Combined through love
As one.

And daylight fades into night,
And I can feel the shift,
Nothing is right,
But it doesn't matter.

Because how can anything matter more
At this moment
Than my yearning to be
In your arms.

I am coming,
For all his stars they turned to shadows.

I am coming,
For all the hurt they gave him.

I am coming,
For all the turmoil they put him through.

I am coming,
For all the demons that ever dared touch him.

I am coming,
To protect my monster.

For all they have put him through...
They have made his life a nightmare.

So I will become theirs.

Music
Plays over and over and over
In my head
And I reach for earphones
I never plugged in.

I'm shaking off flashbacks,
Like a dog shakes its' flank,
And I'm hoping no one sees me
Dancing 'round the fire in the woods.

I favor the Crucible
Over Gatsby,
But that's because I've always thought
F. Scott Fitzgerald's other works were so much better.

The sky is clear,
So is my mind.
I don't feel clouded,
I don't feel foggy.

I feel real and honestly me,
And I can't speak for anyone else
But I hope to God
I stay this way
For weeks.

I want to live
And I want to be
And look at me
I'm wanting things,
Like laughter and smiles and talks.

I want all the aspects of life
I never really got.

And the sunny clear sky
Makes me think of a certain Bluebird's eyes.

And I'm sure,
Absolutely positively
That anxiety building in my wrists
And the flashbacks I'm keeping at pay
Will fade away
Like the scent of blood
That triggered them.

Stop the flinching from the loud,
And ignore the memories of blood down my legs,
And guilt
So much guilt
So much loss.
Grieving someone that was never a someone,
That I didn't even know was there,
Until it was much, much too late.

Shaking my head,
To shake out the memories
To forget the loss,
And remember the gain.

Loss and pain is necessary
In order to live life knowing
That good can still exist
And how wonderful it feels.

I'm struggling to write this out,
But it needs to be said.

I've lost a lot.
I'm not losing you.

Here's to trying
And giving it all we've got,
All I've got.

I am going to be the best me possible,
If not for me then for you,
And for a future much brighter and warmer
Than a hospital room.

Some women
want the shining rings
and the elegant proposals
and the over the top
displays of affection.

and while I honestly wouldn't mind
the displays of affection,
I want you to know
that all I want is you
and
you
and
you
and then
you again and again.

I will only ever want you,
nothing more
nothing less.

Close
Your
Eyes

Think.
Dream.
Disappear.

If you are the sunlight,
Then I am the grey.
If I am the nighttime,
Then you are the day.

There are
Parts of
This world
Where you
Can't be found.

There are
Parts of
This world
Where you
Are found.

There are
Things
Deeper
And darker
Than I,
So maybe
I am not
So bad.

There are things
Deeper
And darker
Than you,
Than what you've
Been through,
So maybe
We aren't
So bad.

If you can find
Light in my
Sunset eyes
Then I can find warmth
In the fire within yours.

Close
Your
Eyes.

Think.
Dream.
Appear.

*If you are the sunlight,
Then I am the grey.
If I am the nighttime,
Then you are the day.

I'm not cure,
If anything
I'm the epitome of
Nicotine.

I'm deadly and addictive,
Filled with venomous scorn
And a flaring volatile temper
When my insecurities get the best of me.

I'm too smart for my own good,
And quick-witted.
My moral compass almost always
Points north,
But being Chaotic Good,
I rely on my moral compass,
Rather than moral and orderly rights and wrongs.

Kiss me and breathe me in,
I'll blacken your lungs.
Kiss me and breathe me in,
My words will blacken your heart.

I am dangerous,
I am deadly,
How you chose me,
I'll never know.

But you've healed these
Blackened lungs,
And you've cleared up,
This blackened heart,
Just by the
Gentle care within
Your voice
And your touch.

And I can't imagine
A life without you,
So I won't
Even bother
Trying.

All I want
Is to be held
In your arms.

I'm waiting for your voice,
And I'm waiting for you.
I could wait forever,
But I'm sure I won't have to.

I wish I could ease your worries,
I wish I could calm your mind.
I wish I could love you properly,
But that will come in due time.

I am waiting
For your arms around my waist,
I am waiting
For a closing of this space.

I am getting better.
I am stronger than before.
I know it will take lots of time,
But every day this better grows a little more.

I want to make you proud,
I want to make you smile.
I want to be what makes your heart flutter,
As you've been mine for awhile.

Dear Ceremonial Suit of Armor that shines too bright to be real,

I could tell you I love you. I could tell you I didn't. Both would be lies. I do not love you. That does not mean I never did. There was a point in time, before February, where I did. When I got bad in January, the process of falling out of love had already begun, because I could not remain loving someone who treated me as less than trash behind closed doors. I had only ever offered my body up to you as a preventative measure, trying to convince myself otherwise. I had fooled myself, and maybe you. I hate myself for it.

And your cruelty has left me wounded in a new way, but rest assured I will heal. I understand that you were already falling for someone else when you broke up with me on my best friends porch. Please understand that I am not an idiot. Please understand that I know the game fairly well that you play. Please understand you are no better than me when it comes to mental health, and no better than your ex's before me when it comes to games.

I am scared to flinch. I am scared to take the steps to trust people. I am scared to reach out, to be honest entirely and wholly. I am scared of the words "I love you" as they fall from my mouth, because what if they are met with the same cruel glare and ice cold, empty touch. There are words, phrases, noises, even songs that set me off. Not like the one before you. No, they set me off in a way that makes me see all the parts of me I am a vividly aware are not perfect. It takes a lot of breathing and a lot of focus to calm me back down and bring me back (on my own, by the way) to Earth where I can see that I am not horrible. That those were volatile lies spread by you and your temper.

I know you spreading lies about my mental health. I have been told by many sources, I have much proof. I know you are spreading lies about how I spoke about others. I hope they know you are not much better than the toxicity you spread with your sharpened tongue.

I am bitter. I expected so much better from you, and instead I was left with regret. But your nature and being that has left me limping has also changed me for the better.

I see that I am good. I see that I am strong, and I will be okay.

I do not know about you, anymore.

Sincerely,
Glass Shattered

Hush little angel,
Don't say a word.
Master's going to get you
A raven bird.
And if that raven bird
Doesn't crow,
Master's going to get you
A ring with a red stone.

And if that red ****** ring doesn't shine,
Master will get you silk however fine,
And if that silk isn't softer than soft,
Master will make someone's head come off.

Hush little angel,
Don't say a word.

Master's going to get you
A raven bird.
And if that raven bird doesn't crow,
Master will find you rings with red stones.

And if you aren't appeased by the red stone's shine,
You'll still be the only angel of mine.

And if my angel
Flies away,
I'll know that my angel
Will come back one day.

And if my angel
Comes back one day,
I surely hope
That it's to stay.

With my hands tied tight and cruelly behind my back,
And my ankles strapped to the cold metal of a chair
I think of myself as a witch tied to a stake,
Waiting for judgment.
The same shame.
The same confusion for my crimes.
The same knowing that punishment will be dealt,
No matter the case.

I'm crying in the dark, trying to scream through the tape,
But no one can hear you when the door's closed.

I should have known then,
When he locked me away,
That none of this was normal
And I should have run.

And when I heard footsteps,
My voice caught in my throat.
I remember thinking
He's going to come back and he's going to ruin me worse than before.

And in the darkness I saw nothing,
But the pitter patter of the rain on the roof and within the gutters
Of the theatre.

And I remember the light spilling into the room,
When the door was pulled open,
And seeing the face of a friend I can no longer bring myself to speak to.

And I remember him tearing the tape from my wrists and ankles
And trying to lift me back up
When I fell to the ground in broken sobs.

He rushed me to to his girlfriend,
And I cried in her arms as she and the nurse
Tried to find out the severity of my bruises,
And if anything worse had happened.

I couldn't participate in gym class for a week,
But I was out longer,
Because I didn't want to change in front of the other girls
And let them see the bruises on my hips,
Thighs,
Abdomen,
And everywhere else.

Do not tell me I asked for it.
Do not ask me what I was wearing.
Do not tell me
I should have done this or done that.

I know what mistakes I made and what mistakes I didn't make.

That wasn't the first time
Nor was it the last.

I remember the shame
Burning beneath my flesh
In my therapists office
When he asked what I was wearing
That night.
And what was I supposed to say?

"Sorry sir, you obviously can't do your job. Have a nice night."

Is what I left that office with.

And I remember bleeding,
And I remember wanting to do violent things
And seek vengeance upon him.

But it'll be six years tomorrow
Since the first time that happened to me,
And I don't think I can keep living with wanting him dead.

My skin still burns with shame,
And I sometimes still revert back,
To the witch being burned at the stake.

I looked under the bed,
I looked in my notebooks.
I looked inside my head,
I looked where the monsters lurk.

I can't seem to find it,
And then I remembered.

I've never felt more at home,
Than in the presence
Of the Bluebird that found me
Again.

It's always nice to adventure,
But it's better to adventure
With someone that makes
Any place
Anywhere
Feel like home.