Have you ever played Mash?
It's where you write down random things, then by chance, you get them.
I am married to the class clown.
We have one kid, and we live in Iran.
I work at subway, and we own an apartment.

So what's your mashed up life like?

I want someone to pull me close,
and sneak up behind me to hug me.

I want someone to kiss me with no tongue,
and draw a line down my neck with their lips.

I want someone to be there,
and never leave.

I want someone,
anyone.

You made me feel whole.
You made me feel loved.
You made me feel me.

You made me feel different.
You made me feel hated.
You made me feel broken.

Normal teens don't smoke,
or get high,
or get drunk,
or have ***.
Only the teens I know do that.

cotton candy,
ice cream,
piggyback rides,
playing chicken,
longboarding,
jumping off the bridge,
fair,
Instagram,
boyfriend,
***,
&
depression.

I hate being alone.
I start to pull my hair out,
I see things,
I go insane.
Little by little.
Cut by cut.
Blink by blink.
Breath by breath.
Being alone, is my worst fear.

I would steal his Broncos hat.
I'd slip it over my braids,
then peer out from under the bill.
He would smile and pull me close.
When no one was around, we would make out for hours.
At the fair, he would hold my hand on every ride.
Then kiss me at the top.
We would share a smoke and vapes,
one drag at a time.
We would sit in each others arms,
and listen to old pop and rock.

Now I wear my dad's old Yankees hat,
pulled low over my eyes,
with no one to laugh with.
And there's no one to share my coffee with.
Now during the fair,
I see him around.
He'll smile and nod in my direction.
I sit alone on the edge of my roof,
going through a whole pack of smokes alone.
I write sad, pity poems about myself.
Missing him because after two year, he left.

I wonder how long my new bae and I can last?

I remember sitting in his arms.
On his lap.
Giggling at what he whispered to me.
Naughty little jokes and hopes.
He left me for the new girl.
I saw them together.
We never even broke up.

Now I have someone new.
I've never met him,
but I talk to him all the time.
On the phone,
over text,
anytime I can.
I just hope he doesn't leave me the same way.

That would just about **** me.

Dirt on my shoes,
rust on the sink.
Blood on my shirt,
dust collecting on the shelf.

Not all things stay new...

Her soul was as dark as the night.
His eyes could see right through her.

Hearts can be round or sharp,
long or fat,
whole or broken.
Broken hearts happen before whole hearts.
Hearts can be thin or heavy,
big or small,
light or black.
Hearts are all light to begin with.

Only you can control them.

we're like paper.
we can be cut into a million pieces,
shredded by machines,
and forgotten by all.

we are like paper.
we can bring people together,
become beautiful creations,
and fly away.

I fell asleep with the poem to my chest.
It gives me a much warmer feeling than any of my blankets.
I take it everywhere I go.
When I go to town, to bed, or just to the fridge.

It's from my Easter bunny.
The one that I love from his nose to his toes.
He's a strong little bunny.
With his light curly hair, that hides the truth.
He's also a sneaky little bunny.
He got me to be "normal" for a week.
For that I should give him a treat.
"Here little bunny, I want to play."

Would you play with me?
You can choose the time and the place.
I will bring the toys and poetry.

When you tell someone you have depression,
it's like letting your principal read you diary.
Or like reading half a book, then returning it.
Maybe it's like ordering a steak, but being allergic to it.
It can be a million different things, some worse some easier.
It depends.
Depends on what?
If you have blond hair?
Or blue eyes?
It depends on everything and nothing all at once.
Be different.
Be unique.
Be you.