Why hello my names ****** and I really wanna die
I’ve been telling all my friends about it
They said I should try
So when I got home I slit my wrists and blood shot really high
And when I was done I got so scared that I just sat and cried
Oh my
I really wanna die
I wanna die
Cuz I got nothing left in my life
All i dream about is suicide
Cuz I wanna die
They say it’s a crime
How could someone with a face so strikingly divine wanna commit suicide?
But I do
I do
Because you left me my love
And I’m nothing without you
So I cry

I named my kitten Dolce
It means “sweet” in Italian
Because he was the light of my life, and the only sweetness I’d ever truly felt
My evenings would consist of me listening to his soft purrs while I held him close.
He was the only one who could truly get me through my sadness. Nobody else could.
My pride and joy
My sweet little boy
It was late one night, and I let him out for a little stroll.
Who knew that was the last time I’d ever see my sweet little boy ever again.
That morning I awoke to the sight of him. Brutally eaten alive by a coyote.
I don’t think I’ll ever love again.

Id spend my afternoons in the garden with the flowers
My only real friends.
We’d talk while I drank my milk tea and laughed for hours about absolute nonsense
The daisys would keep me updated on all the gossip going around the garden
And the chamomile’s would offer their advice on anything I needed.
The lavenders would make me laugh
And the roses would compliment my makeup
Since it was inspired by them
I’d bring my diary there and share with them all my stories and the crazy things that had happened to me that day, since they were the only ones that would listen.
They became my only source of joy
One day I walked to the garden, ready to tell them all my new adventures
But when I began to speak, I noticed something off.
They weren’t responding.
I nudged the orchids.
“What’s wrong? Why aren’t any of you speaking?”
I sat there for hours.
No words.
I came back the next day, hoping they’d speak again.
But they never did.

The man that I love always says he’s sorry
Yet he does it again
And again
And again
Not that I blame him, though
All the other girls are strikingly beautiful
And I bet you a million dollars theyre way happier than I’ll ever be
Many times I’d tell myself that this would be his last chance
But his eyes fill with tears every time I try to end our relationship.
Like raindrops on a flower petal
I love him. I adore him.
I can’t bear to see him cry
And so
I forgive him.
And I wait to repeat the cycle next week

We lay in my bed.
Late at night. Around 11 or so.
The cream colored blankets and baby pink pillows were covered with his scent.
My fingers danced along his back as i hummed his name
They traced imaginary little patterns into his tanned skin.
I longed for him to love me
But he didn’t.
He only loved me an hour before, when I was undressed.
I keep humming and tracing my fingers along his back
“Go to sleep. You’re being annoying.”
“Ok.”

Growing up, I was accustomed to “tough love”
My father would yell and hit me. He’d say it was out of love and for my own good.
My best friend would criticize me and mock me. She’d say it was out of love and for my own good.
And the man that I thought I loved would lie and **** me. He’d say it was out of love and for my own good.
Then one day I met a boy.
He was different. He treated me with respect and kindness. Something extremely foreign to me.
I think people call it “romantic”
Whatever that means.
I wasn’t familiar with the concept of “romance” or love. I was always mistreated and whenever I felt someone try to love me I’d get scared and run away. I didn’t know what to do in those situations since I wasn’t used to it.
And that’s exactly what happened.
I ran.
And ran.
And ran.
Until I lost him.
I don’t blame him though.
And to this day I still don’t know what to do if someone approaches me wirh love.

I used to be pure
Innocent
My golden halo rested above my head,
representing the genuine love I had for everyone
I was to forgive and adore everything and everybody in my path, no matter what wrongs they had done.
God sent me into the world and told me to be good.
For years I was nothing but the definition of grace and poise
I would be beaten and abused, but my love would not stop.
Until one day I had enough.
I grabbed my halo and threw it to the ground
I tore off my wings and embroidered lace nightgown
And I rampaged.
Flames engulfed me as I attacked my abusers
Violently, I hit. I stabbed. I shred.
When the flames died down I saw the damage I caused.
Pain.
The guilt hit me.
I saw all of my abusers lay on the floor
Covered in blood
Crying
Begging for me to stop
The way I did when they hurt me
Physically. Emotionally. In all ways.
I turned to see God, awaiting my punishment.
He looked at me with such heartbreak and dismay.
“How could you do such a thing? I told you to come her to spread my word and to  love others. Not cause pain.”
My lips quivered.
“I’m sorry God.”

Alice always reminded me of myself.
But I’ll never understand why she left Wonderland.
If I could, I’d go down the rabbit hole and never come back.

Every night I would talk to the moon
“Mother moon, my heart is broken yet again.”
She would listen to every detail, and offer her advice when needed
One night, it was my turn to listen.
She confessed how lonely it was to be all alone in the night sky with no friends.
“But you have the stars to accompany you, Mother moon.”
“The stars keep to themselves. What I really want is a child.”
How silly, I thought. How would a moon ever have a child?
Well
I threw myself off the balcony. My arms reaching up into the sky.
When I awoke, the moon was cradling me in her crescent shape
They say that when the moon is in her cresecent stage it’s because she’s rocking her baby to sleep
That’s how I became La hija de la luna
The daughter of the moon

The man that I love makes me feel both lost and found
It’s a strange feeling, really,
Kind of like when you’re using a GPS to get somewhere and it’s telling you where to go yet you’re still confused
Last night his words tore right into me
Like a crazed panther on the hunt to cause pain
Though he insulted me, his beautiful accent made me confused whether to be offended or flattered that such horrifying remarks could come out of such a lovely tongue
“You’re so messed up. **** your self already”
Is what he told me
The reason?
I found text messages of his infidelity and lies from a while ago
“You’re overreacting. That was a long time ago. Get over it.”
I looked out the window while he drove and kept throwing his insults at me like a dagger
“You always do these things. Maybe if you stopped being so depressed all the time I wouldn’t have to cheat.”
That part killed me
But I kept looking out the window as the car rode on into the night. Tears flowing down my pale face
I’d always wanted someone to find me and save me from my sadness
But how is it that I’ve finally been found yet still feel so lost?

Friday, I went to church
The pastor gave his speech about loving your enemy
The flashbacks came back
I try so hard to suppress them and make them go away
But like weeds, they interrupt your beautiful garden at the worst of times
I see myself at the doorway
As she kissed the man I love
Rage fills me until my vision is a deep scarlet
Like blood
How I would love to see her covered in it
But I know this isn’t what God wants
“Forgiveness is the answer” says the tiny angel next to me
His pale face under his golden curls is so mesmerizingly beautiful it could melt me and make me do anything he wanted
Except this
“I’m sorry,” I tell him, “I can’t”
He looks at me. Filled with disappointment.
What would feel better?
The look of despair on her face when I destroy everything she’s ever cared about? Or
The look of happiness on his face when I tell the angel i will forgive
I feel guilt
Since
I chose the first option

Amore
It tastes like cinnamon
Like the little honey bees flirting with the flowers in the morning and giving them their morning kiss
The innocence of the child as she holds her teddy bear close, because she believes he’ll protect her from all harm
The arms of the man I love, which feel like velvet and chamomile
The song I hum, professing my eternal devotion to him
But what is this feeling?
The one that makes us prance around under the moonlight and cover our bodies in lace and vanilla for?
Amare è vivere
To love is to live
To move the sky and the oceans and everything in between just to see that person smile
To trust that person so much you take off your silk dress and reveal all your body and secrets to them
It’s something so intense you become blinded
A fool
But I don’t care
I’d rather be a fool then be without you for even a fraction of a millisecond
Your absence causes such a decrease in my oxygen I’d die without it
I don’t care if people say it’s foolish
To be distraught over a man
I’d give my entire being to have his love forever, and would do the unthinkable to obtain it
I would die without him
When people ask me what love is, my mind instantly thinks of this
And they tell me
It seems more like an addiction then true love

Like the rose, I have many layers
Beautiful on the outside
And the more petals you strip off, the more beauty is taken away
Because when you start to unravel me, you find things you might not want to see
Thorns
When I warn potential lovers of the pain they’ll encounter when pursuing me, they don’t believe it at first
Because how could such a rose have so much pain?
But the deeper you peel, the more thorns you find
The more chances of getting caught up in my thorns and getting poked
Until your fingers are soaked in blood from all the ripping you’ve done into my rose flesh
Just to discover I was right all along, and being poked isn’t worth being with me

That day was awful
Writing was my passion, it was my escape
Because I could write anything about everything in this universe and it felt like freedom and adrenaline were partnering together and cascading through my veins like a sugar rush
But then it went away
The day that the rose tinted glasses were ripped away from my doll face
And the truth was in front of me all along
I was face to face with an image so devastating to me it changed my perspective on love
Because I didn’t believe in it anymore after that day
The image
Of my best friend. The one I saw as a sister. The one that I sheltered and cared for since the day I started to call her a friend.
Kissing the man I love
Do you remember that poem I wrote?
The man I love
The poem that I stayed up hours for every night for weeks
Perfecting it because in my clueless and infatuated little mind, that was what he deserved
The look of shock on her face when she turned to see me standing at the doorway
Tears running down my face as if they were racing to see which one could get to my jawline the fastest
My mascara that I bought at the drugstore since I saved up money for weeks to get her the best one at the Macy’s counter so she could be happy
Stained my porcelain skin
I stumbled down the hallway, hearing the cries behind me
“Forgive me! Please! You’re my best friend! I’m begging you!”
I kept walking
After that, I stopped writing.

Should I just end it all?
It’s 1 in the morning and as usual,
I can’t sleep
Restless
I’m seeing stars, and not the good ones
I’m seeing my life flash before my eyes
My eyes, such a clear green it was as if you were looking straight into a peridot
My birthstone
But all I can do is write
And write
And write
Because if I don’t distract myself i know I’ll end up going on “Uber eats” just to order 100 bottles of sleeping pills from my local CVS and end my suffering once and for all
If Uber eats had that option, I would’ve used it a long time ago
Because as you’ve read from my poems, dear reader, my life isn’t peaches and daisys
Well if the peaches were rotten and the daisys were dead and wilting,
I think it would be a pretty accurate representation
But ive been through a plethora of horrible occurrences
That nobody knows about
Because I’m known as the golden girl
The charming doll with the moxie
But inside, I’m as broken as an old CD you find in the back of your closet that you haven’t listened to since 2004
I stay up for hours praying and aching for the Lord to take me
Since I wasn’t meant to be here
I just wasn’t cut out for life
And I know romanticizing suicide is wrong
But I can’t help thinking how beautiful it is to be dead
I hope CVS is still open