She was told had a big heart,
you wrung it dry,
A shriveled thing, brittle as a raisin.

She tried to breathe life back into it,
Rejuvenating it with sweat from restless hands,
Work a veil, a shield against you.

For a moment, she thought she healed—
Felt the fullness return, ripe as a grape,
Until your shadow crept back in,
Once more, it withered.

This time, she let her tears do the watering,
Let herself grieve what you stole.
Some things don’t grow back the same—
Sweetness was stolen when you reaped what you did not sow.

She never meant to be the snake,
to tempt you with something forbidden.
You bit into her like an apple,
Consumed what you never planned to keep.

So choke on the bitterness—
It’s all that’s left for you.
You will never taste her heart again.

You wanted to change your name,
erase it like a smudge on a window,
disappear,
somewhere no one knows your story.
Maybe then, you could heal-
become someone whole, someone untouched,
someone not scarred by the memory of him.

Thoughts of him coat your tongue in bile,
the bitterness rising every time his name is whispered.
Seeing him smile twists something
a nauseous pull that you can’t swallow down.

You want to be happy for him,
The lie is sour,
a betrayal you taste with every forced smile.

You think of all the things you would do
if you had never met him-
if his eyes never reflected your hopes,
if his voice had never filled your silences.
If you had never cared for him,
never nurtured the parts of him that bled into you,
maybe you could have stayed unbroken.
if you had never felt the things you felt with him,
if his words had never mattered more than your own,
maybe you wouldn’t feel like this,
walking on glass,
the shards cutting with every thought of him.

You wish you could erase him.
Wipe away every trace of his existence in your mind,
so you could stop freezing at the sound of his name,
stop the tears from welling up
when you’re reminded of all that was,
and all that will never be again.

You know you have to move on-
he’s made it so clear,
his life blooming in ways yours can’t.
Good for him.
Here you are, still toxic,
festering beneath the surface.
No matter how much you try to change,
You’re just patching over the rot,
masking the parts of him you can’t face.

You need to ****** this feeling,
bury it deep,
turn your back on the festering wound.
You walk forward,
telling yourself each step is progress,
The weight drags you down.
If you keep going like this,
you’ll crumble under it all.

Maybe that’s what you want-
to fall apart, to die in yourself,
once and for all.

To walk unburdened,
Her feet had other plans.
Each step betrayed her, a quiet battle—
She fought for composure, found only pain.
This was supposed to be enjoyable,
Time to bask in nature's beauty.

She lagged, guilt swallowed her
Heavier than her faltering strides.
Her friends slowed, offering help she refused,
Their kindness a reminder of her inadequacy.

At last, they reached the car—a hollow victory.
She sank into the seat,solace eluded her.
"Are you okay?" they asked,
A smile, brittle as glass appeared,
One crack away from shattering.

They stopped for refreshments,
Beckoning her to join,
She stayed,
Alone with the ache of shame and embarrassment.

Tears carved paths down her cheeks,
Release for the torment she bottled
Feet, meant to carry, betrayed her,
Every step a punishment.

Fleeting wishes stirred for a drink
She silenced it, scolding herself for the thought.
Her penance for being a burden once again.

They returned, laughter light and carefree,
Clutching their refreshments.
She drowned in her self-loathing,
Their joy echoed in her sea of shame.

She has a dad,
Never a father.

She wonders who you are
When you're not lying—
To yourself,
To everyone else.

She is too young to feel
This nostalgia.
Too young to ache
For what's already gone.

No matter how she tries,
She can't outrun
what could’ve been.

She hides her hands in her baggy sleeves.
Her hands are too dangerous to be seen.

She has done unspeakable things with them.
To herself,
To others.

Her hands are agents of pain
Whether it’s landing a punch on a friend’s arm for stepping behind her back,
Paying for something she insisted was hers to cover.

Or the choke hold she has on a razor, tracing her skin in red ink,
A suicide note that will never be read.

Each action wounds, yet both hurt others more than they hurt her.

Her friends are upset for she has hit them too hard
Their kindness met with violence.
They only wanted to help,
Yet her hands betrayed her again.

When they see what marks she made on herself,
They cry because they know they can’t stop her.
They plead but her hands don’t listen.

She offers empty words in return .
“I am sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

The truth hangs in the air, unspoken, following her like a storm.
Did she not mean it?
Or is she just using apologies like bandages,
Covering the wounds she inflicts pretending they heal?

She says she’s sorry for hurting herself.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,”
The lie escapes her lips.
She is not sorry.
She does not regret the way her skin feels warm beneath the sting

You warm yourself by wearing a borrowed sweater
She warms herself with the edge of a stolen blade.

She hides her hands in her sleeves,
Not to protect herself,
To shield others from the horror of what her hands can do.
They are not innocent—they never were.

She hides her hands so you won’t be scared of her,
Most of all, so she won’t have to face them either.

Hey
Hello
How are you
Can you hear me?
Oh, I’m sorry.
You want me to say your name when I’m talking to you.
You want to know I acknowledge you.
Say your name, because you want me to see you.
See your effort.
But you don’t see me.

The Mom gets frustrated with her Dad-
The way he thinks only of himself,
How he repeats the same stories,
Never truly listening,
How his jokes sting with carelessness.

She fears of becoming like him,
In her eyes, he can be found.
The way they both speak with their hands,
Spending hours making meals to share,
Bopping along to the music,
Both chasing the fear of not doing enough.

They are bound by blood and care,
The Mom has gone farther,
Breaking free from the shadow of her father.
Yet she carries him still—
In her smile, her kindness,
And the drive that fuels her love for her kin.

You’ve been there—
in the silence, in the noise,
in the moments when words failed her.

You never asked for explanations,
never needed a reason to stay.
You just knew—
what to say, when to listen,
when to stay with her in the mess of it all.

Through every storm,
every mistake,
every version of her she's been,
you stood beside her,
steady as ever.

Others don’t always understand your quiet,
the way you let the world move around you
without demanding to be seen.
They miss the humor in your words,
the strange knowledge you carry,
the way your mind wanders into places
most people never think to go.

But she sees you.
She hears you.
And she will always listen.

There are things only you and her
seem to see the same way,
truths unspoken but understood,
woven into late-night talks.

You are not perfect—
neither is she—
but in a world that often misunderstands,
You meet in the space between words,
where no explanations are needed,
where thoughts flow freely.

Though you do not hold her heart in a romantic sense,
you know her and it better than anyone.
You hold more of her secrets than anyone,
always treading carefully to her appreciation.
She sees strength in you—even when you do not see it yourself.

You, who handles her harsh truths with careful understanding
Who wishes to learn what turns her mind
Who supports her without asking for anything in return,
Who opens her mind to new horizons she never would have explored.

Yours is not a story of longing,
but of knowing,
of minds that find each other
when the rest of the world
feels just a little too far.

She doesn't say it enough,
but she sees it.
She sees you.
And she is grateful,
for always being her rock.

The storm of blame circulates,
“It’s his fault.”
She tells herself,
Trying to make it hurt less.
But she knows—
She hurt him too.

Her mind was a wildfire,
burning everything in its path.
Her pain rained down on him,
and though he tried to hold her steady,
she let herself drown,
refusing his hand.

He hated how little she cared for herself.
Hated watching her spiral,
helpless to stop the fall.
She swallows the guilt like it’s the last meal on earth,
fills the emptiness with it,
chokes on the weight of everything she did wrong.

When she tells others about it,
they all take her side.
It doesn’t feel right.
They didn’t see the pain in his eyes
when he saw through her mask,
when he realized he couldn’t fix what was breaking inside her.

She still feels his presence
shaping the choices she makes.
He wanted to save her.
She tried to let him.
She wasn’t fast enough.

If she could rewind, erase her mistakes,
she’d never have let him step into her storm.
She wishes she’d never met him,
wishes she never put him in a place
where he had to choose between himself and her.

She pulled the thread that unraveled them,
took the final step that ended it all.
And he—
He didn't fight it.
Didn’t argue.
Didn’t beg her to stay.

She wanted him to stop her,
to tell her they could still make it,
that he wasn’t ready to let go.
But in his eyes, she saw the truth—
He needed it to end too.

It’s not his fault.
Or maybe it is.
Or maybe it’s hers.

She’s still spinning in circles,
a constant rollercoaster,
trying to get off this ride,
wondering if she’ll ever find solid ground again.

Twists
and
turns.

Trapped.
You hear them outside the door,
hushed voices beckoning you—
Coaxing a frightened animal.

You sit,
desperate to halt the spiral,
grasping for lifelines you don’t have:
no blade, no music.
Cornered.

Familiar voices call out,
None are safe.
Your mind races,
chased by the fear of being seen—
their worry,
their pity.
All you ever accomplish is being a burden.

Be better,
Have fun,
laugh in the glow of a carefree moon.
Instead crescent moons dance across your hands
Nails the paint nocturnes of your pointless pain
Your hands the canvas

Why do you ruin everything?
Why do you have to make it about yourself?
The thoughts drag you under.
To quiet them,
Hurt them,
Make them stop.

Your sleeve slides up.
Scars stare back,
silent witnesses to your retreat,
Reminders of your broken promises
Of histories rule,
It repeats.
Search for sharper objects—
Teeth.

Not enough.
The voices outside continue,
reassuring whispers
Into enemies
by chaos in your head.

A note slips beneath the door:
“Are you okay?”
You cannot answer—
Your voice belongs to them now.
You tear the paper,
a feeble attempt at communication.
They don’t understand.
You don’t understand.

You bite harder,
bruises blooming nightshade.
Punishment for the scene you’ve caused.
Please, let this be enough,
To quiet your thoughts,
To return you to normal.

Your mind slows,
as bedtime is called.
Your legs obey,
breath steadies.
The door slides open.

You slip past their outstretched hands-
“I just want to go to bed,”
Your hollow voice is a stranger’s.

Beneath foreign sheets,
Rub your arms,
guilt pools in your chest.
Apologize for the scene,
worrying him.

Knock at his cabin door,
he doesn’t answer.
leave a message:
“I’m okay.”

It’s a lie.
You know will haunt you forever.
Why do you always make a scene?

Shaky breaths rattle your bones,
Your eyes search for safety.
You feel their hands,
When you look down, nothing is there.
A cruel trick,
To prepare for next time
When you failed the first.
"No means no."
The lady says,
Her hand on your chin pulls you in
She is so tall her head reaches the clouds
She speaks with the sound of thunderstorms
"I gave you this voice. Why didn't you use it, child?”
A deer in headlights, you were frozen.
“Do they pity you?”
Like the deer wilting on the roadside.

That day she saw you again,
She wore mascara to be composed.
She hates mascara.
It's weight on her lashes,
Another mask she didn’t want to wear.

She rubbed her eyes, smudging black streaks,
You noticed, said it’s why she shouldn’t wear it.
You laughed, not understanding-
She wasn’t trying to smudge her makeup,
She was trying to blur the feelings that resurfaced,
The memories flooding back,
The space that once felt small,
Now a million miles wide.

You didn’t know her eyes carried the heaviness of what once was,
the sorrow of what had become.

It wasn’t the mascara she wanted to wipe away,
It was the feeling of you, still plaguing her.

She looks for you in everybody,
And finds you in no one.
Is that a blessing or a curse?
To love someone
Who doesn’t exist anymore?

You died long ago,
Your corpse does not rot.
They say to let you go,
She can not.

Not until
She can forgive you
For killing what trust
Was left in her

Take what you need,
Leave her remains.

May
Worms and maggots
Show pity

She is rotten.
She rots
And rots
And rots.
She doesn’t try to change

Her thoughts are filth.
How she thinks of herself
Others
She is disgusting

She covers it up
With makeup
With music
With lies.

Eventually truth seeps through.
She tries to distance herself-
Hoping it will cover the stench.

Those who are close have seen her truth
They always leave
She is broken.

She helps others with everything she has
Hoping it will purify her
It fills in her missing pieces
Eventually, she is out of holes

So she makes new ones.
She carves herself into shambles

Hatred oozes from her new sculpture.
For herself
For others
For the past
For the present
For the future.

The fear of what she’s done-
Who she’s become
Consumes her
She is corroded.

So she thinks
She lies
And she rots.

You never wanted tea.
You don’t even like tea—
It lingers on your lips,
the scalding fear of it burning,
it twists its way inside,
leaving a sickly warmth in its wake.

You prefer cold tea,
sharp and distant,
they tell you it lacks flavor,
warmth is the point—
the richness, the indulgence.
warm tea churns your stomach,
fills it with a heat you never asked for.

You drank his tea
Only a few sips
To prove you could like it,
You had to prove it to him,
You always hated the feeling.

He respected you for a while,
Stayed content with your cold tea,
you knew he was just trying to like the taste.
He was doing what you did,
Trying to stomach the poison.

He poured his tea on you,
let it spill into your clothes,
seeping in with unwanted warmth.
The stains would never wash out
clinging to your skin it left you ill,

You never wanted tea.
Not from him.
Not at all.

Forgive her for biting you,
For hissing when she felt afraid.
She begged for protection,
Not to invite pain.

She is sorry she always needs reassurance.
Sorry I hurt you.
She’ll gag herself if she must,
If it means you’ll feel safe again.

You liked what she gave,
Not who she was.
You could only ever love
Half of her
Her straight half.

You called her smart,
Yet made her feel stupid,
A contradiction she carries.

She will wait at the window,
Ears tucked,
Hoping for your return,
Even as she know
You’re gone for good.

She tears her voice for him.
He couldn’t hear her on the field
The crowd of players too loud
His pain a deafening roar

Blinded by his mistakes
Choking in his self-doubt
A chamber of his own despair
She begged to join him there.

Her turn to play came
He didn’t show for her game
She wished he’d cheered for her.
She searched the stands
He was nowhere.

He arrived
At last
He was there for her
By then
She was on the bench.

After so long, it hurt to meet his gaze
to find only emptiness,
a reflection of all the things they couldn’t say.
The pieces still ache.
She wants him to be happy,
The thought of it twists the knife in her chest.

He had sliced her open with the truth,
a cut too deep to ignore.
It wasn’t the kind of pain she knew how to love,
not the kind she could soothe with time.
She bled herself dry-
not realizing, in her desperation to be whole,
She had cut him too.
She tried to get better,
tried to stitch her wounds shut
in the shape of someone he could love.

Healing doesn’t happen for others,
she didn’t see it then.
She had to stop bleeding for him
start mending for herself.
She had to meet the parts of her
And learn to love them in the way
he never could.

She is still learning.
She did so much,
gave so much of herself
to love him, to love everyone,
she was hollowed out,
Spreading herself thin like a worn-out thread.
he only saw the fraying edges,
the pieces of her she couldn’t keep together.

He couldn’t handle her truth-
truth that she is broken and whole
in ways he refused to see.
she is left here,
grappling with the fact
she couldn’t handle it either.

Tangled vines creep,
Sprouting webs of lies into fragile reality,
Decaying slowly, as time weathers them away.

Reality, born from actions,
Yet so much slips beyond control—
A game with invisible rules.

Some trim the vines,
Others let them grow wild,
Consumed by the swarm of addiction.

They wither in the drought of tears,
Longing for the rain to fall
A weight they bear alone,
Left to suffer.

All they see is your bark and your bite,
I see the tiredness,
the hurt that you carry,
I ache to take your pain away.

You love the hand that feeds you,
It brings you pain and pleasure
Side by side they walk,
Only the pain leaves scars.
How cruel the feast the hand brings
a stomach filled with guilt,
or hollowed by shame.

Choice is the world's most dangerous poison
It is our only cure,
the very thing that keeps us alive
Maybe we are already dead
I hate that we must drink it.

I try so hard to save you.
You, the fighting dog
The loving dog
The hurting dog

Love and hate,
so intertwined they bleed into each other.
How much more must we bleed
Before we can love each other openly?

I wish those we loved
Didn’t carve forks in the roads of our lives.

Look at me.
Look at me,
The way you looked at her.

Unable to tear your eyes away as I sat helpless.

Do you still think I’m pretty?
Do you even remember that feeling?

I hope my absence
Brings you peace—
Peace my love couldn’t.

I hope you feel the pain
You put me through.

Drown it out.
Silence is the enemy
When it creeps in, everything spirals into chaos.
Cut, it feels good.

Do you really not know?
Is there truth in what they say?
Answer’s left buried.
The selfish need devours you

You pick on your skin
Regret slaps you
The aftermath is revolting.

You are furious
Furious at yourself
Your skin.

The cycle is unbreakable
Why do you do that?
Knowing the outcome only worsens things.

Cutting brings relief
Twisted comfort.
Can’t you just stop?

Shame.
Shame in mother’s eyes
Shame when makeup fails to mask it
Shame of comparison
Shame of jealousy

Control.
That’s all you need
You can take back control.
Can’t you?

Again you're knocked down
claw your way to the battlefield
“You can’t keep doing this over every little thing. This is life.”

Is that an option anymore?

Reflection
Tears burn
Trapped behind hollow eyes.

You do this?
Look like this?
Feel like this?

Problems are life
You shouldn’t complain.

But you do.
It feels good
Guilt consumes you.

Disgusting.
Just shut up
Be perfect

You are left
Pits on your face
Lines on your thighs

The liar
The lied to
The one who watches it happen
That is who the she is

Why does she do it-
Maybe if she didn’t she’d be okay
If she had controlled herself
If she had just said no.

Start over
Get better
Strive for the goal
Or is she just running from her mistakes?

She shouldn’t have done that
shouldn’t have let that happen
If she hadn’t you’d be okay
You would still be happy.

Sorry,
She’s so sorry,

She
Is
Sorry.

Her guilt does not purify her
So she fractures herself.

Are you sorry?

You sighed,
Wanted her to be clean
Not the kind of clean that bathed themselves everyday,
Dabbled on the prettiest perfumes
Did their makeup like the most talented artist

You wanted her to be clean in the way that she didn’t tear herself open.
To be clean in the way that showers didn’t sting like alcohol in a wound
You wanted her to not have stained thoughts every time she saw a blade to not have to the wipe blood off her skin every time you couldn’t be there
You wanted her to be clean in the way that your love could make her whole

Purging her skin like it is filled with maggots
Wiping it with a blade as if it is the softest towel
Feeling the warmth like the Sun on a cold morning, blood dripped down her body.
Offering her a fleeting comfort you could never understand

How could it be that you look at those parts of her with such disgust?
Pulling the fabric of her clothes over them like a curtain of shame
Unable to bear the sight of something so grotesque.

They are the realest parts of her,
showed the raw truth of what ugliness she brews
the only parts of her she found peace in,
The only parts she finds pretty.

She is here.
you do not care if she is clean or *****
Because you realized all she could ever do was drag you through the darkness and contaminate you.

Apologize
And apologize
And apologize.

Apologize not because you are sorry
Apologize so that you are always right.
so you can get sympathy
so you don’t need to take accountability
The apology is your accountability

You are surrounded by apologizers.
It is a lesson they never meant to teach you.
It is in your blood.

Yours is a lie.
To set the score straight,
They can’t say you didn’t feel bad.
You say you didn't mean to hurt them
You hide behind your words
It is always the right thing to say

When they don’t accept your apology
Face yourself.
You are the monster
The ugly truth you bury behind your kind demeanor.

Shut those who see the truth out.
Those who stay, eventually leave
You wish they would stay,
You know you are no good for them.