its always this time of night
when the sky is dark
and you can barely see the stars
because its so cloudy
that i stay awake
and pretend that the blue light
of my computer
is sunshine.
i stay awake and wish
that i could turn into gold.

He loved her.



                                                                                                            She loved him too.



                                                  That was enough.

I spent days, weeks, months, years
picking the petals off
a flower.
Loves me, loves me not.
I could lie. Say
I never do that anymore,
but I want
to land on a yes.
But it's been 18 years.
And my **** living room floor isn't just
strewn with ******* petals.
No. It's
filled to the ******* rim and it's
spilling out the ******* door.
****. ****. ****.
**** it all!!!!
I don't want to do this anymore.
I'm scared and I'm shaking and I think
I'm trying
not not not
to have a
panic attack.
Please.
What is so wrong with me
that I
never land on a

loves me.

if by senior year of high school
you are tired of your life
make mountains out of mole hills
cut ties with your best friend
because your ex nothing
kissed her on new years
blame them both
don't speak until a year later
tell him you made him
he would be nothing without you
fall for your friends
because you know it will never work
be needy
go to prom by yourself
pretend to rock it
then cry in your grandmas minivan before you leave
burn bridges with your friend group
for no good reason
other than
by senior year you are tired with your life
choose your college entirely on a guy
make sure he is boring
mediocre
and smells of trouble and mental illness
spend all summer trying to make him less boring
convince yourself he is perfect
move twelve hours away
because you don't want to know anyone
hate your roommate
but don't ever give her a chance
get way too comfortable with the boring boy
feel superior
because you're smarter
and you've partied more
steal adderall from the party
because that makes you look cool
give him all of you
mind and body
by that I mean
english papers and shower ***
ignore the signs that he's lost interest
force yourself on him anyway
cry to your friends back home when you're drunk
cry because you are twelve hours away
drink because you are twelve hours away
smoke to stop crying
smoke to stop drinking
don't eat anything
always take the stairs
walk the long way to class
never stop moving
******* are not enough to force up your self-pity
three fingers makes it a little easier
don't look at yourself in the mirror
you are still not good enough for the boring boy
take the blame when he snitches on you
do not fight for yourself
sleep with him again anyway
tell yourself "there is no sin too great"
this is what you wanted
because by senior year you were tired of your life

For some reason
when I think of
the
texture
of hope I keep seeing
a woven basket.
I have no idea why.
I guess maybe because they're easily
broken
like hope.
Or maybe
it's not a metaphor.
Maybe that's just what
hope
feels like
to me.