Do you ever think the things that happen
to you in your life
aren't necessarily meant for you?

this is if you're of the persuasion that all things have purpose.

what if some of the things
that happened to you
were someone else's lesson
to learn?

and you just got caught
in the cross hairs?

and you're just,
oh, what do they call it?

Collateral Damage.

because that's the thing about fate and purpose.

it's not always flowers and friendship and heartfelt meant-to-be.

sometimes it's messy.

but so is life.

Let's be honest here,
Sometimes I don't feel good enough for you,
Sometimes I feel like an embarrassment.

There are spaces in time
Where I'm afraid I'll disappoint you,
And I'm terrified that you'll see all the parts of me
I don't want you to see
And then you'll just
Up and leave.

But you've seen my worst,
My fear and my tears,
And my sharp tongue, though never directed at you.
And if you think that's something
Worth keeping,
Then you'll have to push me into the water
If you want to jump ship.

I usually don't
Try to stick around.
Like most things, I'm fleeting.
But I'm sick of fleeing.

Usually when I fall,
I hit the ground running,
But I've yet to truly fall,
Because flying with you
Is much too nice
To stop.

You were a grey sky
and I was terrified of rain.
You were the churning clouds,
and I didn't have an umbrella.
You were the downpour,
and for the first time,
I was cleansed by the rain
instead of being stained.

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.

Words
cannot
describe
this lost way
I feel inside.

and I cannot
explain
the source of all
this pain.

and I feel as though
you will not try
and all these smiles I'm faking
remind me of how I feel
like breaking.

I want
you to care
but persistently nagging you
over it
just isn't fair.

I have been too often
used and
broken
to allow myself
to be ignored
to allow myself
to be walked upon.

it is so hard
to be mad at you.
but I must be strong
in the face
of my love for you.
I cannot allow it
to make me weak.

I refuse to be
walked all over
and I refuse to be
taken for granted.

Never regret
A thing
Because at one point
It was exactly what
You wanted.

But how could I want it
If I wasn't there to
Ask for it?

And I hope
I pray
That you may
See me
As something good
Something whole
Something worthwhile.

But I have wounds and scars
And broken parts
But if you see me
Maybe I can be a better me.

“DEMON MATH
What is JUST in a world
you've ripped in two
as if there could be
a half for me
a half for you
what is FAIR when
there is nothing
left to share
what is YOURS when
your pain is mine to bear
this sad math is mine
this mad path is mine
subtract they say
don't cry
back to the desk
try
forget addition
multiply
and i reply
this is why
remainders
hate
division.”


― Kami Garcia, Beautiful Chaos

And as a remainder,
I've closed my eyes,
And let fear take me
Too many times.

But don't you know,
My darling,
We're under the same sky?

I've lost
And I've gained,
And I've lost again.

But today my hand
Is yours to hold,
And it will be tomorrow,
And each day after.

Because after all the terrible things
I've known,
You're the best part
Of anything
I could ever
Call my own.

So please,
Add me to your equation
And I know you'll find the answer
Within the loving-me kind of persuasion.

And I'm so glad
You'll be mine
For forever,
And I'm so glad
You're going to
Stay.

We're under the same sky,
But we'll be together soon,
You and I.

I'm here deciding between
Whether I want to remember
Or if I want to forget.

I could process
How much I hate you,
Or I could just vaguely hate you
From a distance.

And I'm the type of person
Who likes to find the best in people
Even after they leave me broken,
Or after they pull that whole
Massive betrayal or whatever
You think I'd call it.

And I wanted to find good in you
After all these years,
But you've pulled too much,
Hurt too many people,
Lied too often.

And maybe,
Like me,
You've changed too.

I'm not big on
Vengeance anymore.
I don't open up
Quite so often,
And when I do
It's much more gentle,
Much more calm.

Just so you know,
No one's gonna chase you.
No one's gonna chase me.
No one's making us
Relive who we were.

So run away,
Like you always do,
And I'll be here,
Growing up.

All this fear and discontent and outcry
makes me think of
nobody the dead man.

and if the notion were made
that I should cease breathing
I'd laugh bitterly in the face of
the adversary calling
"go **** yourself"
a mantra I've had chanted at me
many times.

because, don't you know?
it has taken me years to love myself,
and really only within the past seven months
have I started.

it takes more
than meaningless defeat
to bring me down.

but within the cries of sheer terror
I hear my peers falling into despair
and I can only look on helplessly,
for what solace can I give
with burns on their backs,
and wringing marks on their necks?

and I have been assaulted
more times
and by more people
than I care to admit,
but i will never know the fear you feel
for something as simple
as your skin
or bone structure.

I only know it
from my gender,
and my demeanor.

there is nothing I can do,
but continue forward,
and help as I am asked.

do not,
darling,
cry out in fear of death.

cry out in rage.

we are built to be by the people and for the people.

you are the people.

do not react in violence or hatred. Educate. Demonstrate. Make them understand. Give examples. You are the future, and you will make this world better, not a fat cat in an office, it would be the same no matter the figure head.

fight.

and when you feel like laying down your arms and no longer bringing forth peace, that is when you continue forward and keep going.

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.

I was once
A distant memory
And I forget
But I don't want to recall
The pain that my life was
When you were my friend.

So I hope you're well,
But know that I cannot
Be there
I cannot
Care.

No one saw
The wounds
For they were sheathed
Beneath
Bone.

It hurts to fade
Away from you,
But if this is the journey
Life must take me on
Then this is the journey
I will gladly accept.

You'd be so proud,
Or maybe you wouldn't,
I am unsure
If I know you
Anymore.

But the you you used to be
When you were you and I was me,
Would be so proud
Of who I have become.

I am strong
But careful,
And I do not strike,
But if I do,
It is swift and painless
And the only hurt that is left over
Is mine and mine alone.

I hope you are well,
But riddle me this,
If you were you
And I were me
Would we still be
This distant?

Dismember the parts of my heart
And lobes of my brain
I am different
Yet I am the same.

I am the drip drip drop
I am the same sky
There's fire in my blood,
What am I?

I am the same scarf
Torn apart and into shreds
How many times?
I am a place to sleep, not a bed.

I am one thousand years
Of watching the world stop spinning,
I am the retrograde of memories,
I am the pain in your face from continuous grinning.

I am the falter in your heartbeat,
Due to love and all it implies,
I am found between Praecipua and Spica,
What am I?

I used to think that blue eyes were pretentious. I used to think that everyone with blue eyes somehow thought they were better than plain old me, with brown eyes and brown hair.

Shallow, right?

And then I met you, and for some reason, blue eyes were much less pretentious, and blue became my favorite color. Blue felt like home when mine was breaking. Blue felt like home when I didn't have one.

Hopeless, right?

But I've always been shy, and when I went through a phase of questioning myself and who I was, I didn't dare risk reaching out to you, out of fear you wouldn't really care. I ended up in a lot of bad situations, all of which I survived. I have the scars to prove it.

Foolish, right?

And I guess, in a vulnerable state in which I was afraid to be alone, I made another bad decision, and this decision was, just like before, a person. He brought out the worst in me, and I him. I thought his blue eyes could be a nice home too. Not the same way yours were. The way a desperate person takes shelter in a storm. But he was the storm, and I was collateral damage. I guess I thought I could make a home out of shrapnel.

Naïve, right?

I used to believe in meant to be. I used to believe in destiny, and true love, and red strings of fate. I stopped believing in that, for awhile. I went on various dates, with men who were nice and friendly. But upon telling them I couldn't go on dates with them anymore, because I wasn't ready to be with anyone, in any capacity, they stopped talking to me. It was foolish of me to think I was more than a chance at getting laid to them.

Gross, right?

And then we started talking again. And honestly, I didn't trust you at first. I wanted to, but I was scared. But when we met in person again, for the first time in seven years, I, slowly, started to believe again. And when you weren't paying attention, I'd steal glances at you, and even though I'd written off blue eyes, seeing the noon-sky and golden-sun within your iris's was almost too much. I felt at home, once more. And whether that was platonic or not didn't really matter. Because when you hugged me goodbye after I asked, I realized I loved you. And maybe I'd never really stopped.

Romantic, right?

I used to think blue eyes were overrated. I used to think I wasn't meant to be with anyone. I used to not believe in true love. It's funny, because now we've been married since November. And now I can't imagine going a day without watching the smile on your lips touch your eyes. And now I can't imagine being with anyone else. And maybe fate isn't a thing. And maybe neither is destiny. And maybe there are no red strings of fate. But I know true love is real, because I love you more than I've loved anyone else, of any kind of love. And you're the person I'm going to love forever, the person I have loved forever.

But now I do believe that fate only brings us to do the things we would do anyway.

Because if I had to choose between fate and loving you, then I guess I don't have any guidance besides the blue of your eyes.

Corny, right?

Right when I think
I might be maybe getting better,
I mess up again.

I have to be better.
Stronger.
And I need to do it now.

No more being gentle with myself,
I don't have time for patience.

I don't mean to be so afraid,
To cry so very often.

But I will stop.

I spent five years
Not showing fear or emotion,
Giving in to what punishment
He thought I deserved.

And I spent one year
Being berated and scolded
For showing any and all emotion
Besides endless appreciation.

I can manage not crying.

I can be better.

I just have to keep telling myself that.

In
1, 2, 3.
Out
1, 2, 3, 4.

In
1, 2, 3.
Out
1, 2, 3, 4.

This breathing exercise
Won't change a thing.
But at least
I won't feel so much like
I'm drowning myself.

This distance between us
Is something I've become
Vividly aware of.
Much like my veins,
Much like my faults.

Maybe it's just me,
But I'd get frustrated with me too.
I know because I am me.
I live in my head.

I am ever the curious,
And ever the wondering.
Ever the insecure,
Forever grasping at straws
Hoping that I'd find that one virtue
About me
That will make me worthwhile.

I breathe,
Very aware of the expanding lungs beneath my ribcage,
The pulsating, blood filled heart in my chest.
Beating and beating and beating
Crying and crying and crying out:
Please just love us, we're all trying so hard!
Demanding that I follow it
To the end of time.

In
1, 2, 3.
Out,
1, 2, 3, 4.

Anxious breathing
Would devour me whole
If it weren't for my unwillingness to be a burden.

I breathe in and I count
And then I lose track because I'm dizzy.

Waiting for time to pass,
Distracting myself via baking cookies.

I can't even begin
To articulate
Why I feel this way.

That you'll find something better--
That this isn't so permanent to you.
That you don't think we're meant to be
The way I do.

And it shouldn't bother me
But it rubs me the wrong way
Because I can't read you
The way I read others.

Other people are obvious,
They think they're hard to read,
And because of their colors,
They aren't.

But I see your colors
And I can't tell what they mean
Because there's so many of them,
And they don't move in the same way,
And you try to hard to be level and steady
That rarely does anything slip out from your carefully constructed walls and gates and fences.

And usually people are trying to break me down,
Figure out what I'm all about,
And the change is nice,
Even if it's challenging.

Sometimes I feel like I don't really know you,
Like there are parts of you I'm not aware of,
And some days
I feel like I know every inch of you,
Inside and out,
And that I always have,
And was always meant to.

Today I'm not sure,
Anxiety and intrusive thoughts are devouring me whole.

And my fears rip the flesh from my bones,
And maybe I'm just insecure,
Or scared, I'm a coward after all,
But I know you know
I'm not going anywhere.

And I hope you know
I hope you understand
When I say some things aren't options,
I mean it.

This is it, and I don't know
If you really thought it would be this final,
But I knew,
And while it scared me,
I was so very ready,
And I'm just afraid
You don't quite understand that.

Maybe you do,
How would I know?

I never claimed to be a mind reader.

You get high off your perceived power over my well being,
And I'm left shaking in rage.

You whisper tones of hatred and negativity,
And I allow it to crawl under my skin
Like the parasite your words are.

"I'll never give her a wedding"

You told my little brothers about me.

And it doesn't even matter,
I don't want your ***** money,
Or to acknowledge that you hurt me.
I never should have trusted you,
I was a fool in that.
At least you gave my brothers a normal life,
But you could never take sufficient blame for what you've done.

It's not your nature.

And it's a head rush,
A blood rush,
Cold air on my skin,
The room is spinning and I'm reeling
And this is why I don't get angry anymore.

My head is spinning,
I don't want any part of you
Or to owe you at all.
You blame me for things
I never did nor intended to do,
And you refuse to tell me at all
Where your hurt roots from,
You giant child.

I don't want your ***** money,
Your witches brew,
Because I'm a witch
Just
Like
You.

So technically
You're four hundred miles,
Give or take forty three,
Away from me,
But the distance doesn't feel so large or wide,
When I think of your smile
Or your voice
Or the things you say
Or the way you laugh.

We share the same sky,
And as someone who believes in fate,
I believe in the phrase
"One sky,
"One destiny."

I remember looking up at the stars
From my window one night
And I guess I thought,
"If we're under the same sky,
We can't be that far away."

And as the sky clears up
And I close my eyes and try
I can still feel your fingers
Laced between mine.

Your skin
touching mine
your flesh
pressed against me
the rush of your blood
and the curve of your
spine
and arch of your back
and the motion of your hips
and the crook of your neck
is where my lips connect
to your skin
and your flesh

and your heart is b-b-beating against
my ch-ch-chest
and your hands wander
and my mind wonders.

and I can feel you growing ever the warmer,
almost achingly feverish
where my thighs connect to my loving and lustful hunger.

and the world crashes and rebuild and crashes and rebuilds and crashes and falls and rebuilds and then we reach a type of beautiful and extravagant crescendo and the world slowly rebuilds piece by piece
as I collapse and crash with your lips on my skin

and I've never felt more at peace.

I have scars etched across my skin
like raindrops that drizzled down and stained
the yellowing pages of your notebook.

I don't like talking about the black outs,
where my mind goes,
what's left of me.

I don't like talking about what triggers them,
or who I am after I come to.

but these scars are physical reminders
of memories I never got to remember.

and every time you kiss them
I think to myself
"maybe even that part of me,
whoever she is,
deserves to be loved too."

and I wonder if looking
at my hands and arms
makes you sad,
or if feeling the raised skin
makes you uneasy
but either way

I love when you kiss my scars
and make me whole.

I want to scramble eggs
to mix into fried rice and
fried ramen noodles
and mix up my brains
with the spatula
along with the rest
of the dish.

because my insanity
is quite the pain,
and my insanity
is due to be the end of me.

and if I scramble my brains
into the eggs
then my last thought would be
"I could have cooked this meal
way better."

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.

Make believe
I'm a mess
If you so choose
If doing so makes you feel better.

Weightless,
Don't get me started.
There's nothing
That keeps me grounded,
Quite like him.

Down to Earth,
Honey no,
I've got my head in the clouds,
And my feet are running on stars.
(Rewrapping old scars)

And reality doesn't come crashing down,
When I go tumbling back to our atmosphere,
Because my reality
Is in the clear.

'Cause it's not like
I regret my choices
That lead me to here.
Whether it's left me with scars or fear,
I would say
I turned out okay.

Listen up,
If you would find it pleasing to hear,
Or even if not.
I'm a pistol
With the safety on.

My smile melts
The ligaments in your knees,
And my knuckles are scarred
From fights with things that also bleed,
So you're no different,
In all honesty.

But he kisses me
And it leaves me breathless,
And suddenly the violence,
And swift movement
Of the fight
And grace on my feet
Comes crashing down,
I'm burning in the atmosphere.

I'm left as a
Fragile thing,
A bird with buzzing wings.

Dust off scorched skin
And soot covered feathers,
I'm stained in ash
And the pale raised skin
Of scars I probably somehow deserved.

Who I used to be,
And who I am now
Are no longer the same.

I used to fight to survive,
In more ways than one
And today I have to bite my lip to keep
From smiling
At seemingly nothing.

And I kept trying
To keep flying back to the stars,
And I kept getting burned,
But I don't need heavenly bodies,
No,
I needed another bird to fly with.

Scramble the iridescent reds and purples,
With the greens and yellows,
Fluttering and flying,
I'll fly with him,
My Bluebird.

At peace with a life,
I never intended to live.
I never intended anything
Until now.

I fully intend
On sticking around
And staying with him
For as long
As he'll have me.

And I'll fight like the hell I've seen
To stay longer.
Giving up is for cowardly children,
They throw away what's broken
In order to get a new one.
Breaking it further so no one judges them
For throwing it away.

I am no child,
And I am now coward.

I want a life with my Bluebird.
And **** it all to hell
If I let petty displays of power
Rip that from my hands.

So let me inform you, kindly,
Of my intentions.

As a demisexual synesthete who writes too much and pays attention too little, I fully intend on staying here, hand in hand, wing by wing, with the bird that taught me (most likely subconsciously) that falling in love is the wrong way to do it. Fly, don't fall. All it takes is enough determination and desire to keep going in efforts for a life with another.

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.

Do you even see me? Or am i just a figment or your imagination or even my own? Do you even hear me? Or am i just the wind screaming and scraping against the windows and shutters? Do you even feel me? Or am i just the looming weight of your past and mine, and all the guilt in between? Can you even taste me? Or are my lips just the faint sense of familiarity in a cold world. Does my scent sweeten your disposition, or is it just a soft, flowery reminder of the void?

Who am i and who are we,
What is the point and
What even is meant to be?

I was once so sure,
But now i don't know.

I don't know anything,
Especially
What i'm supposed
To be.

I used to wonder why my stomach churns when I hear a child cry.

I used to wonder why the videos of the children in the hospital in Aleppo make me want to curl into a ball and disappear.

I used to wonder why the sound of flesh impacting flesh makes me flinch.

I used to wonder why I can't watch or listen to horror movies that use gore for the shock-value.

why I can't watch anything gory at all.

I'd like to think it's because I'm much too compassionate.

but we all know it's because I've seen too much. Felt too much.

I wonder
if you can see me
the way I see you.

I wonder if you see
all the shaking in my features
when I feign confidence
when speaking about myself.

I wonder if you hear
the honesty in my voice
when I  feel raw
and unlovable.

I wonder if you can feel
the joy and adamant passion
on my skin
when you touch me.

I wonder if you can smell
the fear in my breathing,
when I try so hard to fake being strong,
and all I do is hesitate.

I wonder if you can taste
the satisfaction and pride on my lips
when I make you smile.

I wonder if you see me
the way I see you.

i see colors and i see
all of your heart
and none of it
all at once.

i see within your eyes,
and i feel fire
but smell snow.

i wonder if,
if you were to look with your heart,
if maybe you could see me rightly.

Stupid, awful tears
Won't stop threatening to fall.
Out of fear that either I ****** up
Or I'm just not being quick enough on the uptake.

Not like that ******* matters.
There's this weird feeling of being
Disappointed with myself.
I should have quarantined myself
For the day
No food
No sleep
Leaves me sad and angry,
Touchy and easily upset.

I want to sleep
So maybe I can dream of you instead of
Experiencing the cold that is in my bones.

But I love you,
And I'm sorry
Because my eye lids feel like lead
And I miss you.

You asked what you're going to do with me,
I said keep me around,
You jokingly said "I don't know..." I think.

But my heart suddenly panicked,
Please don't take it back. Don't put me back.
And I'm not doubting you, but boy, do I doubt me.

**** sleeping tonight,
I'm going to sleep now.
I hope you're sleeping well,
And know that I love you and I'm sorry.

I know you'll tell me not to apologize,
But I have to because I want to be in your arms rather than shivering on this couch.

So I'm technically certifiable,
And you're the type that I want to keep around.
I'm the kind of person
That holds onto letters and movie ticket stubs
And drawings with hearts on them.

I'm not great at letting go,
But I'm sure as you've noticed,
I'm fantastic
At getting attached.

And I'm the kind of girl
Who doesn't stick around very long,
Because losing people is unbearable,
But I'm also the kind of girl
That sticks to her word
No matter what.

And what if I made a promise,
To both you and myself,
That I'm going to be around
For as long as oxygen sifts through the breeze?
And what if I told you
That's the only promise I need?

I'm shivering
And wrapped up in your sweatshirt,
And you probably fell asleep
(Not like I blame you, you were tired)
But I can't seem to tell if I'm shivering out of being cold
(As per usual)
Or shivering because I'm so excited
To love you.

You promised me
You're not going anywhere,
And maybe I'm a little sentimental,
But listening to music that makes me think of you,
Helps me come to terms
With how much I trust in you and that promise.
Everything is telling me that this is right,
And safe,
And I don't normally place bets
Because I generally lose,
But I'll write it out now,
Because I bet we'll make it.

Give me something/anything to hold on to this moment/you.

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.

I stare at the comment
On someone else's post
On another website.

I stare,
And I can barely feel my eyes brimming
With tears.

How quick you are
To devalue
Something so horrific.

And I'm completely aware
That there are some women,
And some men,
Who use the phrase
"****** assault,"
As some kind of scapegoat
To get off free from some type of experience
That they decide they regret
That they decide months after the fact
That they didn't want
I am aware
That this happens.

I am also aware
That there is a war on people,
And it is being led
By other people.

It is a war on something meant to be held close,
And dear,
And sacred.
A war on a way you're supposed to show another person,
Who is also of age,
That you care for them,
And only if they're also consenting.

*** is supposed to be warm and beautiful
And good.
Right?

It's not supposed to be violent,
And ******,
And scary,
And filled with danger.
It's not supposed to make you want to burn off your skin
When someone else so much as caresses your hand.

It isn't supposed to make you shut down
And feel sick.

I have nightmares almost every night
Of something that started when I was no more than sixteen.
I still wake up
Feeling like I can't breathe,
And I can still hear the rain and the thunder
Washing away my screams.

You can ignore this war all you want,
But did you know that one in every six women are sexually assaulted in one way or another?
Did you know that one in every thirty three men is survivor of ****** assault?
And one in every ten **** victims is male?

Every two minutes an American is sexually assaulted.
Did you know that?
12-34 year olds are most likely to be victims than anyone else.

I used to think all perpetrators of the crime
Should be strung up and fed to angry vultures,
But these days the PTSD has got me so bad
That I can't even come up with a valid argument
As to why.

The people that I always tend to be--
Uh, well, to be it lightly--
Better than,
Always assume I'm sheltered.

That I cannot possibly be so kind,
I cannot possibly be so sweet,
I cannot possibly be so, ugh, cute,
And have had something terrible happen to me.

I always love correcting them.
"You're right," I begin.
My voice sweet like honey.
"I have no had something terrible happen to me."
I go on to inform them that it's
"I've had multiple somethings. With an S. Plural."

They usually scoff, and that's when my laugh becomes bitter,
And sly.
Not like dark chocolate,
No, still too sweet.

Bitter like dry swallowing too many pills because the memories won't let up.
Bitter like the glue on the back of the tape that's over your mouth.
Bitter like the smell of sawdust.
Bitter like pain.

They assume they can read me,
Know me.
That I'm this nice, shy girl.

And they're not wrong.

But I'm shy because of my Generalized Anxiety Disorder.
And I'm nice,
Because I refused to let my C-PTSD taint who I am.
I refuse to let it make me cruel.

But these people,
Who have proven by their actions and words
That my occasionally self-loathing, mentally-ill self
Is actually better than,
Love to downplay me.
Love to call me sheltered.

But I guarantee
If they have been through
What I had been through
They wouldn't be half as
Kind
Sweet
And, UGH, cute.

And that in itself
Is a strength.

And I remember
The look in her eyes
When I explained that I hated her,
But it was a lie.

And I remember feeling the guilt
For the way I tried to save her,
But it was the only way
That I knew how.

And I regret trying
To do what I did,
But I cannot change the past
And I cannot change who I was.

And as much as I tried
To seek out forgiveness
She revoked it
Like a toy from an undeserving child.

I will always hold you
To a higher standard
Than others.
And for what I did,
I will hold myself
Even higher.

She probably won't ever understand
The point that intrusive thoughts drive you to,
Or how blackened my mind had become,
But I trust that as long as I can
Work towards
Forgiving myself,
I can be better.

Sh-shivering.

Shh,
Quiet.

Sh-shivering
Cl-clattering
Of te-teeth.

Shhh.
Quiet.

Sh-shivering
And cl-clattering
Of te-teeth
That sink into flesh
And I sh-shiver
Wanting your hands
To trace across mine.
And my te-teeth
Cl-clatter
Softly,
While I sh-shiver
When your hands trace across me.

And I'm so c-cold
But you seem to be
The thermodynamic equilibrium
I've needed
For a really long time.

Sh-shivering
Turns to
Elongated vowels (among other things),
And I'm not so cold,
Anymore.

And I want my hands
Held in yours,
And I want to be held,
By you,
And I want your lips
On my lips
My neck
My forehead
My back.
I want to feel your breath
In the crook of my neck.

I don't like
The physicality of it all,
I never have.
Take away what it means,
It's a little gross.

But lyrically speaking,
Elongating my vowels
And going back to my shivering form,
Is quite eloquently the best way to express
What I can't seem to say right.

Love isn't right enough. It doesn't feel like it's quite enough.

So I sit here,
Sh-shivering
Trying to think
Of the best way to tell you,
That beyond cl-clattering teeth,
And qui-quivering knees,
And sh-shaking words
That there's something more to this that makes me believe in something,
And I don't know how to show you
Or tell you
That flying with you is
The best decision I allowed myself to
Fall headfirst into.

I'm shivering and shaking
And I'm just here waiting
For the world to go a little slower,
Just a little bit
Just a little bit.

My veins were clearly visible
Beneath my pale, pale skin,
As the hot water fell in what felt like bullets
To my dizzy, spinning head.

And I'm still shivering, and I'm still shaking,
And I'm just waiting
For the world to be a little warmer,
Just a little bit,
Just a little bit.

And my skin is like porcelain,
If porcelain could scar.
If porcelain was olive,
And if porcelain held a grudge against the people who treated it like
Porcelain.

I'm just shivering,
And I'm just shaking,
And I'm just sitting here
Waiting.

Close the door,
Shut me away.

I'll never be
Good enough
Strong enough
Anything close to
Enough.

I want to pull my hood down,
And shut the world out
Nothing feels right,
I'll never be right.

My head hurts
And I'm afraid,
I'm afraid of the hell I've made.

I know I'm still sick,
And I can feel this infection in my body
Making everything worse,
But I want you to know
Nothing is worse than feeling like I'm not good enough for you.

And try and try as I might
I can't bring myself to more than
Like myself.

But at least it's enough
For me to take enough charge,
That I want to be treated
As more than
Just a person
On the other end of the screen.

Have you ever heard something that makes
your heart sink,
whether it be pain or rage or sadness?
and your heart sinks right into your stomach
and you only want to pretend you didn't hear the
name
that

makes your stomach sick
and destroys your idea
that everything is okay
and you don't need to outdo anyone
or be better
or seek some type of vengeance.

and you want to light fire
to your flesh
or light fire to them,
but you won't.

and you hate the fact
that your hatred of the past
and this person
and who they were to someone you love
is so strong.

but it's okay.
I am yours now.
now and forever.

no one else is me to you
and no one else could be you to me.
and I hope that remains
within the times
my hatred gets the best of me.

I am hyper aware
That my skin is cold
That I am not being touched.
I am uncomfortable
Like my skin is crawling.
It's almost like when I am being touched,
Because I hate when people touch me.
But instead of wanting to rip my skin off my bones,
It's like I don't even have skin to begin with.

I want to be held by you,
Loved by you.
I want your kiss to quench my thirst,
And your hands to hush my growling stomach.

I am skin-starved,
Touch-starved,
And it's making me drift away.
And I don't want to be far away,
But I know that I already am.

I need your love,
Your heart,
To help anchor me back down,
So that I can stay.
So that I don't
Drift away into volatile nothingness.

I want to be every risk you didn't take
I want to be everything you didn't say.
I want to be your universe,
and I want to promise that you'll never lose me.

I want to be an argument at 2 AM.
I want to be looked at like I'm still your everything.
I want to be every struggle, every scar, and still coming out strong on the other side.

I want to be your forever
and I want to promise you that we have forever.
and maybe it's childish,
but I think we can make it.

I want to be twenty years down the road
and I want to look at you with the same wonder and love and awe.

and I know I will
and I know I will

I want to be the reason you wake up before sunrise.
I want to be with you, watching the sunset.

I want to be laughter at 5 in the morning,
and sleepy kisses in between everything else.

I want to be yours
so wholly and entirely.

I stayed up until midnight
Last night
Worrying about whether or not
You know
That I love you.
About whether or not
You know
That I'd never ever come between you
And who raised you.

Wondering if you know
That I'm not like that.
That I'm not so terrible,
I promise.
I would never insinuate,
I would never dare imply
Anything like that.

And while I understand
What you said was driven by frustration
At my inability to move past
The things that have been done to me,
The things that have I have seen,
And my own doubting of my worth
In comparison to how much you should
Care for me.
And while I understand that,
My heart hurts,
To put it in the simplest of terms.

I know you love me,
I do not know or understand why.
But I know you do.

I fell asleep last night,
Crying into your sweatshirt,
My fingers tangled in the wire of my earbuds that were in your ipod,
Hoping that if I tried hard enough,
I could imagine that the ipod and the wires
Would be your hand and fingers
Laced with mine
As I drift into my nightmares.

I'm sorry and I know this doesn't make anything better,
But I'm scared and I need to know
That you know
I'd do all I can
To prove to you
That what matters to you
Matters to me.

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.

Foggy navy skies
And purple and pink clouds
Gleam and glow,
And we wait and we wait
Waiting for snow.

I find light in the gentle
Falling of fluffy wads of snowflakes,
Softly caressing the earth.
And the grass freezing
With the morning dew,
There is a type of comfort
In the slow destruction.

Slow and calm,
Freezing winds rush through the air,
And the harsh drought upon my skin
Gives way to the slow destruction
That winter brings.

But if I must be destroyed
But gentle cold
Compared to stinging heat,
Then watching the snow drift
Down from the heavens
Isn't the worst way
To be reborn.

Preventing myself
From expressing concerns
Of whether or not you've eaten,
Sending a quadruple text
Explaining that I miss you and
That I hope you're okay,
And that I kind of want to send you
Funny pictures
And throw in an awkward picture of me
Hiding behind the cocoon of blankets
I've wrapped myself in.

Today was a bad day.
I can't wait to hear your voice,
But saying that--
Well, I've been told that's bad,
That's weird,
That's not quite correct to tell someone.

I hope we get to the point
That it's okay.
I'm sure you wouldn't mind
Hearing things like that,
I'm just scared you might.

It's awful that there have been people
Who have told me the exact opposite
Of the things you've said to me.
You care to hear what I have to say,
And you don't want to hear my apologies,
Not because you think they're guilt trips,
But because you think they're unnecessary.

I really want to hold your hand,
And listen to you speak or laugh,
Or even just breathe.
And I know that's insane,
I know that's weird,
But I've never felt this way before.

There aren't butterflies in my stomach,
But little sparks trying to start a fire in heart,
So that way when I see you,
I know I'm home.

You become
Broken
After you lose the people
You thought would always be there.

There's always a part of you
That doesn't work quite right
After they leave you in shambles,
And even though you want to forgive all of them,
Sooner or later
You realize you shouldn't.

It's a fact of life,
That you become
Fiercely protective
Of people you thought you were going to lose
That you didn't.

Whether it be your mother
Who overcame all odds,
Or your brother,
Who didn't--
But is here anyway,
Because there's a reason he's here
There has to be.

Or people who wander around
Back into your life,
And you realize,
There's a reason
For him too.

But overcast days like today,
With all this rain and cold,
Remind you of the people
You couldn't will back into your life.
The people you didn't reach out to,
The person you didn't help.

And the guilt eats away at you,
Because what are you supposed to do?
If you could change it,
You would. A thousand times over.
But you can't.

Everyone says it's unfair to blame yourself,
But this year you're turning twenty two,
And well--
He isn't.

When people are ripped from your heart,
You become fiercely protective of who you have,
Because you are vividly aware
How easy it is to lose someone.

And you close your eyes,
And remember your mother's tears when she read a card
From her favorite of your cousins,
That went on to say how wonderful she is,
And how excited he is to meet you--
And then he was gone too,
Not a week later.

But you remember him,
And maybe it was the pictures and the stories,
But you remember him.
And everyone says it was just an accident,
But his words written in red stir something inside you,
Something all too familiar for it to be comfortable.

You push the lump in your throat away.

And then you think of her.
She was bright and lovely,
Full of life, full of love.
Wore lots of pink ribbons
In her cascading black hair.
She was so little, so young.
A child.
And that summer you went home,
And she needed you
And you weren't there
And you should have been there
But you weren't
And no one believes you
And no one wants to hear it
But it was all your fault,
And you can't bring yourself to deny that something is out there anymore,
Because if there's nothing out there
Then she's gone for good
And you can't cope well enough
With that.

Allow yourself
To become compassionate
Allow yourself to become
Protective
Of the people you love.
Reach out, open up.

You only have so long.

It's funny, I think.
I guess it doesn't matter
If my soul is whole
Or torn and tattered.

There's a part of me
That finds peace in the night.
But that part of me
Doesn't always sound alright.

I like to wake up early,
When the world is still dark.
I sit and I wait,
To see if I recognize any part.

I am often reminded
Of hearts I've held in my palms.
I remember them fondly,
Each and every one of their songs.

Some nights,
The past drenches me in a cold sweat.
Some nights,
You remind me not to forget.

Some nights,
I can't tell my truth from their lies.
Some nights,
I find my home staring in your eyes.

I feel myself falling
Into pools of blue
Twirling threads of gold
That always lead me back to you.

Living in your heart
Is walking through a forest
On a cool, mid-Spring morning.
The waking birds and budding flowers rapidly become our chorus.

The ground beneath me
Sinks and soon gives way,
I plummet through the night sky
And find myself waiting on every word you say.

You brush my hair behind my ear,
Kiss the top of my head.
I realize you still think I'm asleep,
As you hold me close to you in our bed.

I smile to myself.
Old wounds begin to seal shut,
Scar tissue holding strong.
My soul, though worn, no longer cut.

Falling into the warmth
Of the heart I know so well
Reminds me of the life we share
That I always tend to dwell.

Some girls are made of empathy and smudged, dried ink.

some girls are stitched from red yarn and thick black thread.

some girls are filled with the taste of blood in your mouth and slick, jagged, icy walls.

some girls are built from the emptiness of heartache and longing.

some girls are made of foreign colors, scotch, and the clacking of a typewriter.

those are the girls that look into the fire and show no fear.

those are the girls that try to save the monsters instead of running from them in terror.

those are the girls who are not used to their hair being brushed gently from their ears, or being told by anyone but themselves that they're worthwhile.

those are the girls who believe they're only worth being loved as long as they earn their keep. They're only "permanent" for as long as they are useful.

those are the girls who flinch when you move too swiftly, too close to them. Those are the girls who shudder and shake when you get too loud and too personal.

remind them they are worthwhile. Remind them they are permanent. Remind them it's okay.

with some girls, you won't regret it.

You can do everything.

all the breathing exercises, all the mind calming techniques, all the grounding rituals, take all your meds at the appropriate times and with food, go to therapy, do the worksheets, make the changes, but you'll still falter sometimes.

and it could be anything, and you could see it coming and not even know you're seeing it.

it could be a song, a word, a noise, an action, anything.

for me it's the sound of rain on roofs.

and you'll fall back into the darkness and the hatred where you think no one can find you or pull you out again. You'll slip under the raging black sea, and let it consume you entirely
as black water
fills your lung
like rapids

and it burns but you let it happen.

because it was too quick, too sudden, for you to stop the water from drowning you.
you try to stand but you can't find your footing because there are no sandbars for you to stand on
only water.

and you thrash but sooner or later you're dizzy and your throat burns and everything is spotty and you can't think

and you're gone.

replaced by a shaking shell of the memory
of not being able to move your arms
and the thunder and rain drowning out your screams
and each blow to your head making it harder to make any noise at all
(and people wonder why you have memory issues)

and finally, when it's over
you're shaking and shivering and your sobs are so violent that they don't make any noise
you can't eat for weeks and when you do you just throw it right back up.
you can't look at your brother
or hug your father
and the disassociating gets so much worse that your arms bleed and ache almost constantly.

your "friends" worry, but not enough to do anything.
your teachers worry, but not enough to ask why.

no one ever asks, so you never tell.

and while you shake and shiver in the car
because you remember it all so well
and you just want it to stop
but you can't get enough air
and you're an absolute wreck,
there's light drifting down to you
through the murky black water.
it's bright and blue and warm
and suddenly you're on dry land
and can breathe
but you're looking into eyes made of galaxies and storms
and you're afraid if they see you this way that they'll leave,
because you're such a mess
but you can't pull it together.
but he found you, in that deep, dark water.
and he pulled you from it,
and helped you breathe again.

and you wish you could show some type of gratitude,
but you know that even if you said thank you a thousand times over,
you'd need a better word than that.

and you sooner or later smile,
and it's like the water and tar never took hold of you.

so maybe you can be better, with a little help.

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.

Sometimes i think of fantastical things
And how i wish i could know most things
And how i wish i was stronger
And better
And so much more
Worth it.

But these things i think up
Remind me i'm more than
My mistakes
Or my scars
Or the things that
Left me slightly less than before.

"I have been bent and broken. But, I hope, into a better shape." - Charles Dickens, Great Expectations.

Sometimes i feel like you can't see me
like I'm only visible when I'm useful
or when you want me to be.

and sometimes I can't tell if that's my past talking
or my insecurities.

and I know I'm not smart or funny
or interesting or fun
or--
(feel free to disagree with me anytime now)
--anything more than broken.

sometimes I can't remember if I used that
word to describe me first
or if you did.

and I guess I'm just tired
of being so not-good.

and you told me that you somehow
still want any part of me
because aside from my brokeness
I'm still good.

sometimes I wonder how that works

sometimes I'm just too tired.