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Apr 2018 · 237
Untitled
I've spent enough nights with him still inside me
To know that the hole in my heart is not
Nearly as shallow as the one between my legs and
Will not be filled quite so
Easily
To know that no one will find love in
The desecrated temple that is
Me
Once so sacred
Doors swing open for anyone who can
Make me feel special for a few minutes
Call me beautiful and
I'll call him holy
Anoint him with honey
Bathe him with my
Tears
Sacrifice my smile to bask in the sunlight of
His
Arms wrapped around me at night
Hoping that one day we'll make
Love but
For now we just
**** because
The hole in my heart is not quite so
Shallow as the one between my legs
Apr 2018 · 202
ms. understood
always there to
feel what you feel
hear what you hear
cry with your tears
to understand
she's always there to
hold your hand
dry your eyes
make you feel like
someone
gets
you
are in love with her she
is perfect for
you she understands no one
there her
what about her? Who
will
wipe her eyes kiss
away her pain love
her scars but that's
okay she's just
ms. understood
Apr 2018 · 217
1
1
His face, like rain,
That falls and grieves
A simple pain
But he, himself, was like the autumn leaves

His heart a delicately heavy
Stone, he would heave
Into a world unsteadily
Where he himself was a mere autumn dream

His soul was its own universe
Of intricate weave
A sun, patiently waiting to burst
Into a shower of autumn leaves

And as he is the autumn of my dreams
I pray constantly for a summer that never leaves
Jul 2017 · 1.7k
Beautiful Broken Heart
A broken window will want repair
And a broken arm must be treated with care
But what happens to a broken heart?

Do the shards come together and try to mend?
Do they search helplessly for what could have been?
Can anyone tell me how things will end,
For my broken heart?

Do the pieces separate, and freely roam?
Do they long for love, or wish to be alone?
Does anyone know how to make a home,
For my broken heart?

Will my eyes no longer twinkle and my mouth no longer smile?
Will I forget how to love, or be tender and mild?
Does anyone know what life will be while,
I have this broken heart?

Will its love flow out to the empty places in me?
Will my whole body know what it is to be warm and sweet?
Does anyone know the language or beat,
Of my broken heart?

Will all its pieces move as one?
Will they dream of what could be, what is, and what was?
Can anyone find a greater love,
Than that of a broken heart?

While some do not realize that a whole is but two halves
And with a broken heart, they forget how to laugh
So that is why I am proud to love and still have
My beautiful broken heart
Jul 2017 · 534
The Day He Tried
Morn after morn, He awoke alone
And prayed for her return
Until the truth made itself known
That to have her heart, He'd have to learn

To gather up all of his strength
And fly away from here
To let love carry him any length
And not be driven by fear

If I stayed the same and did not move,
By the world I'd be left behind
I'd be static in my opinions and views
And be cast from others' minds

So I must evolve in my character
And the things I do and don't believe
Not so much to please another,
But in order to shape my higher self, and make that higher self, me


With this He made a promise, for today, and not tomorrow
To not be frightened by how the wind blew
To not be kept back by regret and sorrow

And so to his dreams, He **flew
Jul 2017 · 1.3k
The Day He Cried
She came to him one day and said
That She wished to fly
He met her gaze and shook his head
And begged her not to try

Her lips twisted and brows knit
As She failed to understand
Just why He wanted her to quit
And be content on land

An oath, She made, to herself to see
The stars She would explore
Although He said no just let it be
And wished to hear no more

She asked him why She shouldn't go
And why He so loved the ground
For She dreamed of soaring to and fro
And living amongst the clouds

He looked at her, sighed and said
That this journey would only lead
To disappointment in the end
As She would surely not succeed

Encouraged by his stinging words
She set out to do even more
She promised to be just like the birds
To not just fly, but to soar

So for a time, through night and day
She tried again and again
Until the morn She found her way
And rode, gracefully, the wind

She glided, majestically, here and there
And also far and near
And so She told him so, with love and care
That He had nothing to fear

Yet, on the ground He wished stay
And still refused to go
So the two went their separate ways
She flying high, and He perched below

Through his eyes, his sorrows fled
His heart a heavy stone
Because He had known how this would end
With her free, leaving him alone

And He remembered the day She said
That She had wished to fly
For it was not She he doubted, but himself instead
As He had never dared to try
Mar 2017 · 483
Saying Goodbye to "_ _"
He calls me at 4am
He's never awake past 1
Not unless something bad happened
Something bad happened
The clouds cover the moon, and now it's dark
What's -
Before I can finish, he's talking over me
No.
He's crying over me
It's raining
I'm trying to tell him that everything will be alright
But I don't think he hears me
He's sobbing now
The streets are flooding
I can't take it
Just breathe  I tell him
But he can't
He can't breathe
The water from the rain seeps into my room
I am trying to get away
Light bounces off the black metal in his hand
Lightening
But I don't see it
Or maybe I do
I can't think straight
All of the rain
Too much rain
Thunder
It shakes the phone
It shakes my house
It shakes his whole body
It punches its fist through his head
I don't know what to do

That was over a year ago
And it hasn't stopped raining since.
Jun 2016 · 917
Untitled
If I could go back and relive any moment
It would be the one where
We both thought that you loved me
It would be the one where you called me beautiful
It would be before the scars on my arms

If I could go back
I would go back to that empty house
The one on Bishop
I would go back to that garden where we made love for the first time
I would go back to when we both believed
That there was love to make

If I could go back
I would go back
I would fix the broken windows of our relationship
I would love you until you learned to love me

We should go back.
Jun 2016 · 402
My (un)Chemical Romance(s)
When you're gone, I can't breathe
And your very presence is suffocating.
But who needs air, with your hands wrapped around my neck?
Dec 2015 · 371
Untitled
I didn't fall in love with you on purpose
****, they don't call it falling in love for nothing
It's not called jumping in love
I mean, for purposes of accuracy, I didn't just go and fall in love with you
You tripped me
Everything was fine
Until you tripped me
Then I was falling
And just for a second
Before I collided face-first with reality
My God, we were flying
So no, I didn't fall in love with you on purpose
But it's no mistake that I haven't gotten up
Nov 2015 · 937
Paradise
Welcome to the island of misfit toys
A place for unwanted girls and boys
A place where everyone cares, and no one is rejected
A beautiful place where no flaw is corrected
A place for the beaten, scolded, and abused
A place of forgiveness for those wrongly accused
A magical place where you don't have to run
A magical place with no ropes and no guns
So welcome to the island of misfit toys
A place for unwanted girls and boys
Nov 2015 · 513
HOW TO: Cut Yourself
Cry
Cry until you run out of tears
Take off all of your clothes
Look in the mirror
Make a detailed list of all the things you hate about your body
Look in the mirror
Until you are thoroughly disgusted
Hate yourself
All of yourself
Inside and out
Cry some more
Look in the mirror
I am disgusting
Run out of tears
Cry from the spider-leg lacerations on your wrists
And be thoroughly disgusted
This is a self-reflective poem, written in the second person. Self harm is dangerous and I am in no way encouraging anyone to to cut.
I want to whisk you away
Hold her hand like it's the only thing anchoring you to this planet
Let her wear your jacket (she likes the way it smells)
Tell her she's beautiful
Not hot.
Not ****.
Lot's of girls love themselves from the shoulders on down
Don't make the same mistake
Serenade her with corny declarations of love
I wish I lived in your socks, so I could be with you every step of the way
When life gets hard for her
Do you have a band-aid? Because I think I scraped my knee falling in love with you
When believing you love her gets hard for her
You should be a baker, because your buns are perfect
When looking in the mirror gets hard for her
Let's play Titanic: You be the iceberg, and I'll go down
When you get hard for her
Kiss her on the forehead (but only if you're tall enough to do so easily)
Worship her personality in front of friends
Worship her mind in front of parents
Worship her body in private
Worship her body in public when no one's looking
Never let her go to bed without hearing *I love you

Tie her shoe for her
Wrap your arms around her when she cries
Don't be her Prince Charming
Don't be her Knight in Shining Armor
Be the WHOLE **** KINGDOM
Be her best-friend, boyfriend, and bed-buddy
Don't be a baby: let her take pictures of you
Remember- every touch makes her heart race
Make her heart race
**Then whisk her away
Nov 2015 · 674
Ode to "_ _"
He was the most
Most...
He was my best-friend
My boyfriend
My brother
My lover
My home
He was...
Lost in himself
Stuck in himself
Incarcerated in the darkest pits of addiction
He was always trying to be someone that he wasn't
Himself
He was the rose that sprung from the concrete of his fractured heart
He was the torn-up, worn-out, too-small, wrinkled-up, mystery-stained t-shirt that you never wanted to give up because it held too many memories.
I guess that that's what it was
He held too many memories
Too many memories
Too many memories
And that's all that's left now
Too many memories
Nov 2015 · 702
Time
As She waits at the bus stop, a young man approaches her
“Do you have the time ma’am? ”
She ignores him and looks straight ahead, because if She speaks She won’t be able to hold it in
“Ma’am? ”
He steps directly in front of her, and before She can stop herself, She has her eyes trained on his
Everything about them is familiar
She can even see the small streaks of blue in the hazel that had made her feel safe with him so many years ago
And as He looks at her now, with deep concern in his eyes, She can pretend that He is the same as before
Like how his nose would crinkle when She cried because He hated it when She wasn't happy
And in the 8 seconds that have just passed She can see the realization of who She is flicker across his dilated pupils
She needs to ask ‘why? ’
She wants to be angry
But all She does is take out her phone and say “Half past twelve”
And He can’t even look at her as he mumbles “Thank you” and asks for a dollar
And when He asks for that dollar, something inside of her shatters, and then ignites a flame
Of all the things to say
Of all the things to ask
Of all the things to apologize for…
But She can’t waste this moment being angry with him
So She pulls out a twenty with a shaking hand
But as She goes to place it in his, his fingers intertwine with hers and She looks up just in time to be trapped in his gaze
Trapped in his gaze that whispers soft ‘I love you’’s and sincere apologies
And it is in this moment that He says “Thank you” and She knows that it isn’t just for the money
Suddenly She is wrapped in memories of them, and how they were before He sold his soul to the streets
They stand like this, just staring at one another for a moment, and then the bus pulls up and He releases her
He plants a butterfly kiss on her forehead and leaves, for what feels like the thousandth time
And for what feels like the thousandth time, She wants to tell him how much She misses him
She wants to tell him how much the little girl in her longs for his comforting touch
She wants to tell him how much his absence has changed their mother
She wants to tell him that no matter how high He gets, He still won’t make it to heaven
But She just gets on the bus, and lets the pain run down her cheeks, into her lap, and back into her skin
And She waits for the day when She is waiting at the bus stop when a young man approaches her
“Do you have the time ma’am? ”
She never did see him again.
Nov 2015 · 499
After DeMulder
"She is the souvenir shop that He visits to remember how much people will miss him when He's gone."
She cries so often that She runs out of tears and the sobs escape her in the form of red disappointment that streams from her tiny little-girl wrists. She is the nothing but a landmark. She is the band-aid that He uses to feel beautiful after He is told that He is not. She is the thread that holds his ego together at the expense of her own. And every time She undresses for him, She knows that He is thinking of you. Because, when they're in bed, He's touching her, wishing She was you, and She's touching him wishing He was anyone else. And they're both just anesthetics to fill each other up with a feeling of nothing because somehow, that's better than any type of something. And He never says "I love you" in person, because She knows that He only loves her from shoulders to ankles, no hair in between, ditch the bra and *******, let that Brazilian fall in waves down her chocolate back as She gives him more and more of herself. But then He does say "I love you" it's only when He's still inside her; still a part of her; still taking from her. He'll say he loves her. He'll say it again and again and again. Like a prayer. Like a lamentation. And as He finishes for what was supposed to be the final time, She'll fall apart. Glass trinkets will fall to the floor, tumbling from the decrepit shelves of her heart and shatter all around them for his love of broken things. Like her. And He'll leave.
Nov 2015 · 644
For "_ _"
The truth?
The truth is that he was only beautiful when he was on drugs
So, he was almost always beautiful
No
He was almost always gorgeous
But it didn't matter.
He'd never get high enough to touch heaven
The holes he poked in his arms wouldn't fill the hole in his life
Nothing he could ever say would un-cry my tears, un-shoot those bullets, or un-break our hearts
Running away wouldn't make that one life-ruining ***** cell do a backstroke
He was beautiful when he was on drugs
But he wasn't on drugs when that little stick turned pink
He wasn't on drugs when I walked in and out of that clinic alone
He wasn't on drugs when I had to sit down and tell his parents and mine that there was no more "baby"
No
He wasn't on drugs
​He just wasn't there.
Nov 2015 · 676
Mommy
Mommy, can you hear me?
You were only 13, miles from 14
Just a child
You didn't understand what it all meant
Only that you wanted him to stay
So many people had already left you and you just couldn't take it anymore
He was 16, almost 17
Basically a grown man
Mommy, are you listening?
You only wanted him to stay
That's all you ever wanted
So you gave him what he wanted and spread those long, pretty legs
Because he called you beautiful in between kisses and said that he loved you when you needed to hear it
And he even said that he loved you  when you begged him to stop
He whispered I love you and just kept on going
Then he finished
He flipped you over and passed you to two of his friends
Your face was still wet with tears as the first one pulled out his ***** like a sweaty dollar bill
But they never saw your face
The pain in your eyes
The sadness in the set of your mouth
Mommy, I know you can't hear me
We were both babies and you were just protecting me in the only way you knew how
Mommy, I wish you could hear me
It's okay.

— The End —