My first experience with love
felt like touching a hot stove.
I would constantly have to hold back
to keep from getting burned
by your hot temper.
I walked into my second relationship
with those same standards,
with 3rd degree burns
snaking up my arms and legs.
When my boyfriend saw my scars he
wanted to crush your heart in his hands.
And even though that sounds violent,
I know he would never smash a spider.
He would never hurt me.
He just wants what's best for me.

And that isn't you.

I wish every day could be like
the first day I fell in love with you.
That I had the power
to freeze time and rewind
and relive that first day forever
full of loud laughs and wide smiles
and corny pick up lines,
full of side glances and rose blushes
and lingering hugs,
full of fun times and fresh beginnings
and a sense of mystery that
keeps me coming back for more.
All I know is that we just started dating,
and that tomorrow never comes.
So does that mean we can always feel this way?
That we can always stay in today?

Since I was little I've always had a lot of friends
that were with me wherever I went.
Furry friends that had paws and tails,
but were not alive

They always greeted me
with sewn on smiles
and glimmering glued on eyes,
and though they couldn't say hello,
I was proud to call them my friends.

I met my best friend on my fifth birthday,
a brown dog with
a cheesy name and an easy smile,
and every year since our
two halves became whole
we've celebrated that day ever since.

Every year of my life was a
new year for new friends,
but as my friend circle grew
so did the judgement.
No longer was it considered cute
to tote around stuffed animals like a toddler

"You need to make real friends," my parents would say,
when I had reached middle school
and never had so much as a sleepover,
unlike my sister who always
had people swarming around her
like bees to a hive.

Little did they know I had
tried to make friends,
tried to act normal without any luck.
If people wouldn't even accept
the facade I had put up
what reason would they have
to accept the real me?

The other kids they laughed at me,
calling me a mute because my anxiety
often stole the words off the tip of my tongue
before sound could carry them out.

My furry friends let me cry into them
when I'm upset,
won't call me weird or stupid
for the things I say.
Whenever I fall apart,
those stitched on smiles
put me back together,
telling me everything
is going to be okay.

My stuffed animals are the
biggest influences in my life.
I'll never go anywhere without one by my side
and if other people can't accept that
and think I have a problem,
then they're the ones with the problem

knife tracing over my veins,
blue green against paper skin
the paths, the new beginnings
I could have followed
had I chosen to.

My heart racing
like it's running a marathon,
my head crackling
like an old t.v

Only one thought pops
into my mind,
piercing through the white noise,
through the free flowing tears.
Should I?

You told me If I loved you
that I'd move on.
Now we no longer talk,
now I cry myself to sleep,
now I no longer eat,
now I have put up my walls,
now I'm tired of it all,
now I never talk.
Now I know I said I'd go away,
but my heart keeps begging me to stay