The urge to cut grows stronger by the minute.
I don't think I can do this,
and that makes me pathetic.

My mind searches
for other methods to punish myself.
If I can't bleed;
I'll starve myself,
and replace my meals with iced latte's
or eat so much
that it hurts to breath and walk.

My hands start to shake
as I lock them together.
"Don't do it."
I ignore the voice,
and raid my moms bathroom
looking for a razor.

"Aha!"
I found one.
It's old and rusty
but she'll get the job done.

I take a long pause;
I am 24 days clean.
The hesitation lasts a lifetime,
but I set the razor down.

That was one more day.
One more day that I didn't fall for the urge.
Will the fight always be this hard.
I guess I'll wait and find out.

I think I might like you,
and that scares me to my core.
With every bite that I taste,
I can't help but ask for more.

You make me question my sexuality
something I set in stone.
Wrap your hands around me tightly,
I don't want you to let go.

My heart beats loudly
pressed against your chest.
while we slow dance to-
Paul Anka, Frank Sinatra,
and all the greats we love.
Under your white popcorn ceiling,
falling deeply into each other's eyes.

Your hand begins to grip my thigh
on this perfectly dimmed Sunday night.
My blue eyed darling-
please kiss me goodnight.

I'm dancing with a beautiful man,
who lives just down the street.
I don't want to think of the end.
You already have me weak to my knees.

“This is my last time”,
I said 4 times ago
As I paint my brittle fingernails
Red with blood

At the age of seven, I fell in love with a boy.
David made my heart race with anxiety.
I yearned for the simple touch of his hand holding mine,
to embrace him with my small, fragile arms,
and tell him how much I cared,
but I never got the chance.
I was just the girl in his first-grade class.

His brown hair flows down his neck,
then stops quietly before reaching his shoulders.
His eyes warm golden specks of light.
Your lips soft pink, waiting to be kissed passionately,
by someone, you'll someday love.  

The second has passed.
Time resumes it's place,
and I forget how to breathe.
You made me genuinely laugh and smile,
something I haven't done in months.
You haven't crossed my mind in ten years,
yet you still have this dangerous effect on me.

But it's not me who's in love.
It's that soft-spoken girl in elementary school.
The girl that laid in her twin size bunk bed,
looking at your yearbook picture fondly,
wishing you were hers,
remembering you will never be.
                              ...
I love hearing you explode with joy
when you talk about your hopes and dreams.
I love seeing your endless compassion for others;
you have such a beautiful soul.
You would do anything and everything for me.
I love the touch of your body against mine after being apart.
I love the taste of your lips when you kiss me with such intensity and desperation;
makes me fall in love with you over again.

I think of what could be as I walk to my car,
carrying a paper bag filled with oranges and water.

Will you love me when I'm skinny?
Will you love me when I'm pretty?
Will you love me when I'm funny
or have lots of money?
The answer is no.
I could change in a thousand ways and still,
my life would remain the same.

My presence would go unnoticed
so what's the point in pretending.
Who cares how others perceive me,
it's a waste of emotional energy.

Burdened by my irrelevancy,
now I see that it's a blessing.
I can finally live freely.
Without fear of judgement
or someone abandoning me.

I can't lose what I never had.
So I will go ahead and speak my mind;
wear my imperfections with pride;
laugh in inappropriate situations,
and eat ice cream without being worthless.