you know,
my heart dropped when they were in the middle of their sentence,
because i knew where they were going,
but my heart couldn't bare to hear the rest

you,
are just a robot.
you have a lightbulb for a brain
and an ice box for a heart.
piercing cold shackles wrap around your ankles
and rusty, heavy chains entangle and stain your wrists.
you,
are a prisoner.
society easily conforming you to its will.
doing with you as it pleases.
tell me,
will you ever make it out?
can you,
or will you,
escape from the now scrapped metal in which you dare to call your body?
or will you forever be enslaved?
like everyone else,
who's too scared to evolve.

a rose?
well that is something that i am not.
i am not admired by many
and adored by even more.
people do not gravitate towards me
because of my cliche aspect of beauty.
one does not view me as one of the most
d i v e r s e
signs of
beauty
love
or even grace.
both striking and beautiful,
she has many thorns and ******
that can cut you
and make you bleed.

me?
instead of all that,
i am a leaf.
ordinary, that i am.
and very much overlooked.
often ignored and underestimated.
your eyes do not adhere to my exclusive version
of beauty.
i can't hurt you,
or at least not as much.
i am not made up of thorns
that could easily nip you
and your fragile skin.
and even tho she,
rose,
has many ****** and thorns
that has ample enough chances to cut you,
you still choose it over me.

love lies
and so did you.
i believed your lies
all the way through.
naive and gullible,
that i was.
all because of a stupid thing called love.

why oh why,
does my ability only reveal itself when i'm choking on the truth(?) of the inability for someone to love me
why,
does the wall that constantly hinders me from expressing how i feel only tear down when i do the same to myself
why,
is forming and keeping words together only easy when i can't manage to keep my own self together?
why?

there is an ocean inside of me
one that's waves manifested from disappointment and heartache
and i'm choking on saltwater

it used to be so loud inside of my head
when you were around
but ever since you left
all i can hear
is the echoed sound of my heart shattering
and i think that i'm really starting to miss the noise

more often than not and as cliche as it sounds, your face is one of the first things i think of when i wake up and one of the last i think about before i go to sleep. my eyes have always searched for you in a room full of people and always will my eyes drift in your direction when i know that you're anywhere in my vicinity. your laugh is my second favorite thing about you because your voice is my first. constantly do those two aspects or qualities of you resonate inside of my head day in and day out only making me want you more than i already do. i am in love with you. and as much as i hate letting those words roll off of my tongue and out of my mouth it's probably the most genuine and pure thing that i've admitted to in months. i've got to face it. i'm never going to be swept off of my feet by you, because the fact of the matter is, you don't want me. i won't ever be your first choice. there was never a day where you looked at me and thought of me as important or worthwhile investment to look into. i will never be important to you.. or even relevant. and i know this is gonna sound quite cheesy, but waves of disappoint crash on the shorelines of my chest way too hard when i think about the fact that my "person", is never in a million years going to be you.  for never in a month of sundays would i have thought that i would be head over heels for someone who's lips mine has never gotten the opportunity to grace. they say that once someone starts to love them self enough, they'll stop chasing after people who don't love them. needless to say, i stopped chasing after you, it's just embarrassing because i really didn't want to.

the covers slipped off of her again,
and she wasn’t the one who slipped them off.
her eyes went vacant as the hands that she had once found so comforting
made her feel nothing but discomfort and angst.
his large, harsh hands
ruggedly ran down her prepubescent body and frame.  
every touch
felt like a burn
and because she was paralyzed with fear and utter confusion,
she could do nothing
but lay still
and let him brand her delicate skin.
and while her clothes were being stripped,
so was the little girl’s peaceful set of mind.
leaving nightmares to forever burn,
she disappeared.
too young to understand.

you were stripped away from me when i was only nine.
taken away by someone that was supposed to love me.
i didn't tell.
i didn't dare speak of it.
not because you weren't important,
but because i couldn't bare to have any of the words
roll off of my tongue.
simply because of the fact that the only ones
that were scratching at the back of my throat was
'somehow, someway,
this is  your  *fault.'

i try to bottle them up,
but i can't keep these feelings at bay
and no matter how hard i try,
i can't seem to make them go away.
i'm tongue tied
and silent,
because no words can convey
the feelings that reap inside of my body
every second of the day.

and i can feel the words coming,
the ones that'll sting like when you pour salt into a cut
you know the words that always feel like someone is stabbing you in your gut
and i have plenty to say,
but i keep biting my tongue,
because i know for a fact that you have already won.
but my heart doesn't listen,
it just says, "so what?"
and i can't fathom what to say
so i just keep my mouth shut.

i want to blame you
and hate you,
for the mere fact that you don't like me back.
and i want to accuse you of a crime,
but i think the only crime that has been committed here,
was by me,
and it was the crime of wanting someone who would never want to be mine.

and next time before i give someone my all,
maybe i should ask them if they even want it.
because if there's one thing that i know,
it's that you sure didn't.

i don't believe that someone's sadness should be justified. in fact, i don't think that a lot of people's feelings/emotions should always be justified for that matter. feelings are just that, feelings. and sometimes, our feelings don't always have to manifest from a case scenario, incident, or situation. sometimes, they just pop up. plain and simple. we are people, and things like this happen to all of us. sometimes, i get sad. and i feel like an ocean composed of disappointment and heartache is filling up my lungs, and that's okay. and if i don't know why i'm feeling that way, it's okay. i don't have to always give you an explanation, and that's okay too. the mere idea that we always need to disclose the reasoning behind our sadness, or our anger, or our happiness, is absurd. yes, i totally agree with the fact that bottling in feelings all the time is nowhere near okay and that you should find some way to cope with them and help you deal with them in a non destructive way, but what i don't agree with is the fact that when you spill your insides out to a person, it's assumed that you need to justify yourself. you don't always have to. and that's just where the truth lies.

she is a butterfly.
but they have clipped her wings,
and tore her apart limb from limb,
and now she doesn't even realize that she's butterfly anymore.

i may have never been good enough for you,
but i sure as hell will be good enough for myself.
never again will i let anyone eradicate my self confidence
right before my very eyes
and never again will i succumb to trying to living up to anyone's standards besides my own.
especially to that of a boy.
i can't make your body ache to intertwine with mine,
neither can i be your muse,
and neither can i make your heart go into cut time every time i'm near.
but the good thing is,
it doesn't matter.
you can't force pieces that don't fit
and you just can't force feelings that aren't there.

your happiness should NEVER be based solely on one person.
your home shouldn't ever be nestled inside of someone's chest
or tucked into the creases of their arms.
your happiness shouldn't be measured by the amount of times they say i love you
or by how many times their fingers intertwine with yours
because if you want to get brutally honest here,
happiness that's based on a person will forever and always lead to disappointment.
because the second that they even as much as threaten to step out of the door,
you're back to the way you were
or even worse.
you're left with a shadow of your former self.
you can't make a person your home no matter how sturdy you think the foundation is because their arms will always crumble around you and leave you cold.
not because they meant to,
but because they weren't built to.
they could have had every intention of holdin' you up steady,
but no matter how hard they try,
their arms will never compare because
they weren't made to be your brick walls.
you have got to understand that.
you can't put that much weight on one person.
one human being.
one soul.
they can love you.
they surely can love you.
they can love you with all of their heart.
and as you to them,
but your home should not be composed of
veins that do not belong to you,
and arms that aren't attached to your own body.
your happiness shouldn't be solely based on the way
that your body seems to perfectly coincide with theirs.
they can surely be a factor,
a part of your happiness.
but babe,
you're in some trouble if they're your whole.

i'm deeply sorry that your childhood was tainted. it saddens me to say that your innocence was stripped from you at such a young age. no one should ever have to have their purity and innocence forcefully taken from them. but you are letting your past become a fog within you, and you are allowing it to cloud up your lungs. you keep coughing on apologies that you shouldn't be giving and all the reasons why you think it happened. nothing can justify what happened. you were a child and in no way shape or form could it have ever been your fault. when you hold these type of grudges you let them hold power over you. and no one should ever have the ability to do so. forgive them. not for their sake, but for your own.

i want to apologize to you for always apologizing to the people that never even deserved it. you shouldn't have ever had to give an apology to someone simply for telling them that they draw you to them like magnets draws in metals and how the moon draws in and out the tide. you shouldn't ever have to apologize for seeing all of their flaws as another depiction of beauty. you shouldn't ever have to apologize to someone for loving them. don’t it again.

don't beat yourself up over him. i know. i know that he was exactly the poem that you wanted to write and i know that mystery increases dopamine in the brain and that's why you enjoyed his presence. i know that he made you smile and his goofy laugh made you happy and that the butterflies that flew away for the winter so long ago came back every time he spoke your name, but you know what? he's not it. and i know. i know that it hurts that the feelings aren't reciprocated. i know it stings, that it kinda feels like someone is pouring salt right into the middle of one of your cuts knowing that another one doesn't feel the way that you do, but you can't force pieces that don’t fit and you just can't force feelings that aren't there. right now i'm apologizing on his behalf because he was blind. by what? who knows, but for whatever reason, he just couldn't see it, but i do.

i'm sorry that all you were fed your whole entire life up until now were insults. you shouldn't have had to scarf all of the toxicity down. the words didn't sit quite right with your stomach so all you did was throw them right back up. and i'm very well aware of the fact that you had to bathe yourself in self pity and wash your hair in humiliation. i mean, no one should ever have to shower with the eradication of their own self confidence. things shouldn't work like that. you clothed yourself in self hatred and slipped self doubt upon your feet because they all made you feel like you weren't good enough. that you weren’t pretty enough. that every single one of your flaws outweighed every ounce of genuinity and kindness that was stored inside of you. well **** them. all of them. because you're gold. you are gold while all they'll ever be is rusted copper. listen to me, your body is the house that you grew up in, don't you dare try to burn it down to the ground.

you've always been the one to try to help. always the sincere one, always the one who easily gave empathy and comfort to others. but always have you been the one to be taken advantage of. because people mistake your kindness and generosity, but just let it be known that you'll choke them with the same hand you fed them with. and i don't mind you helping people, but the next time you lend out your hand, and someone grabs your arm, there's going to be a problem. you are not a giving tree. you do not let me people just take and take from you simply because of the fact that you feel bad for them. not everyone is as genuine as you are. remember that.

for the love of everything good, QUIT BITING YOUR TONGUE you hold so much back when you have so much to say. your thoughts are important. your words are important. how you feel is important. you were given a tongue for a reason. please, by all means, use it. you've been biting your tongue for so long that i'm not sure if you even realize you have one anymore. silence is not always pleasant. it's one of the loudest noises anyone can constantly be surrounded by. and let me tell you, silence is extremely deafening when it's the only thing you hear. speak up.

i know that words aren't always enough and i know i can't take away what happened years ago. i can't completely take away the hurt. i can't make you forget all of the rude remarks and the taunting and the insults. i can't get inside of other people's heads and make them stop trying to take advantage of you, and i can't allow people to hear you if you don't speak.

but what i will do, i will help you to move on from the ugliness of your childhood. i will tell you time and time again that you can't say sorry for feelings because they're just that, feelings. i will tell you that someone will like your quirkiness one day just as much as you like theirs. i will tell you time and time again that you are not weak because your heart is heavy. i will tell you until my lips grow tired, until it becomes your reality. i will tell you that the only people that you should focus on making happy is yourself. because guess what? you’re not a nutella jar so therefore you can’t please everyone. i will help you become better at picking out the genuine ones and i will help you to speak up. because one day, your hands won’t tremble and your feet won’t falter at the sight of him and your voice will not rattle when you go to speak. i shall help you to realize that your words matter. just like everyone else’s. none of it will be as easy as it sounds, but you know what they say, a smooth sea never made a skilled sailor.

chin up buttercup.

i think that writers have a hard time loving people
because we fall in love more often with words
than we do with the people w beating hearts standing before us.
"just remember that the way you think about someone is the way that they actually are."
we fall in love with metaphors and similes and conceits.
we fall in love with the idea that we're the hopeless romantic
and that they're our savior.
but the paper has its limits.
and one day,
our pen will run out of ink.
our pencil will be out of lead,
and our hands will have cramped so bad
that we'd probably believe that we'd have carpel tunnel.
and what would we be left?
heartbreak.
because we'd be left to fall in love with nothing but
smudged lines, faded words, and crumpled up papers.

i think it's kind of absurd how i need to include
an abundance of metaphors
and a countless number of similes
included in any of my writings
for people to think it's good
and for me to feel okay with what i created
i have to clean and polish
every stanza
every line
every thought
for me to even consider it to be presentable
but not anymore
if i feel something that's angering me
or tearing up my insides to shreds
or even something that's filling up my body with warmth
i'm just gonna write
because i can
because i want to
because i feel it.
my grandma used to always tell me that finding the unrefined beauty in yourself is important
and cherishing it was even more so.
maybe i need to do the same with my writings

1.) don't ever confuse my kindness and generosity for weakness because trust me, i will choke you with the hand that i fed you with.

2.) every single thought of you accentuates my internal flame and let me tell you, i'm ******* burning, but i don't mind.

3.) i try to make people's arms walls even though they never will be stable enough and i've attempted so many times to make someone's chest a pillow and i try to make homes out of people when i know that it'll never work

4.) i had to be my own hero

5.)  my mind is a galaxy but you refuse to stargaze

6.) i found my reason and now it all makes sense

7.) i should have loved myself with the love i gave him

8.) i wrote about you so often that every time my ink pen scraped a piece of paper, the ink pen bled your name

9.) i think i'm gonna be forever homesick for arms that don't want to hold me

10.) my thoughts are always all over the place and i think that's okay. a girl's brain is like spaghetti right? spaghetti is messy, but it's good.

11.) i'm not a difficult person to make happy

12.) so sometimes i try to jumble letters together to create beautiful words but they don't always make sense. whoops.

13.) my self-image and the way i perceive myself is very demented and distorted but i'm working on it.

14.) i think the best present that i've ever given myself was self-acceptance

15.) my body aches to intertwine with yours

16.) my stomach has cobwebs where butterflies are supposed to be

17.) you always whispered to me, "come in" but the more you let the words roll off of your tongue the more it sounded like get out.

18.) i loathe sympathy because sympathy is one of the worst forms of kindness

19.) i want to fall in love with myself before i fall in love with anyone

20.) no amount of carefully picked metaphors and beautiful run on sentences will ever be able to depict the beauty that is you

21.) sometimes i'm just a really sad poem with feet

22.) i'm the most optimistic pessimist you'll ever meet

23.) they say that if you fall in love with a writer, you can never die. wanna become immortal?

24.) this doesn't make sense and it won't.

sometimes you have got to understand that it's not your job to feel everything for everyone. and it's not your fault that you don't. because if you go around trying to feel her sadness, his pain, their madness, and her confusion, eventually you're not gonna be able to feel anything at all. and trust me, that's not anything that you want.

why do things that are destructive to you, and your health, just to benefit other people? you know, you're not obligated to set yourself on fire just to keep other people warm and you don't have to bite your tongue to the point where you feel like you don't have one anymore and it's not logical to cross oceans and seas for people when you're deathly afraid of drowning and they won't even bother to get their feet wet and you can't let someone hold power over just because you love them. oh no, no, no. no one should ever hold power over you. you are such a perfect arrangement of atoms. there's only one of you. you're special. you come first. you matter most. don't blatantly put yourself into harm's way without ever contemplating the outcome; especially if the person you're putting yourself into harm's way for isn't reciprocating the emotion.

i can't.
i never could, and i never will be able to.

i wrote about you so often that every time my ink pen scraped a piece of paper the pen bled your name

1.) you can't make a home out of a person no matter how hard you try.

2.) happiness, love and acceptance isn't found at the bottoms of broken and shattered bottles nor is it found at the bottom of medicine containers

3.) you're always gonna feel broken if you're constantly listening to someone who's forever telling you that some part of you needs to be fixed

4.) the best love is self love

5.) just because you always mean what you say, doesn't mean that everybody else does

6.) life is full of sudden goodbyes

7.) there's no need to lose yourself as a person but you surely can lose yourself in a book

8.) you shouldn't let anyone shatter and destroy you.

9.) crying when you're hurt doesn't mean that you're weak

10.) it's okay to feel

11.) love is an extremely beautiful thing but sometimes it really hurts

12.) there's a reason why everyone's heart has a cage around it. you shouldn't let just anyone in.

13.) sympathy is one of the worst forms of kindness. empathy is one of the best.

14.) a tongue has no bones but it can break a heart

15.) you're not supposed to be everything that everyone expects you to be. you're supposed to be yourself and that's supposed to be enough

i'm a poet that can't create beauty out of words,
a person that can no longer think.
i'm a writer that has lost all of her pens,
and a sturdy ship about to ******* sink.

my mom always told me to go after boys like you. guys who stuff their heads so far up the bible that they don't and wouldn't prefer anything else. guys who's looks are average but look striking when they put on a suit and tie. and guys who love going to his sanctuary on Sundays and Wednesdays. she told me that they were always the good ones and that i could always make a home out of one, but she was wrong. because you can't make a home out of anyone no matter how good the person is or may be. so when i met you, and got to know you, i tried. i tried to make a person my home, but you just weren't up for it. your arms weren't my blanket but they made for a nice hug. and your chest wasn't my pillow but they made for a good head rest. and to be totally honest, that was all you were up for. because you always whispered to me, "come in" but the more you said it the more it sounded like, "get out" and me not wanting to believe the latter, i chose to believe the first and god, was i stupid. because all along you were telling me that your arms weren't a blanket and your chest wasn't a pillow and your heart had a cage around it for a reason but i just didn't listen. you were just too nice to tell me that i could never be your home and you could never be mine. because you knew that home is a place and it can never be a person. you were just too afraid to tell me.
                                                                                                            {relaxxvdd}

your hands aren't made of fire,
but when we touched you left a burn on my skin

my skin isn't made a glass,
but you always seem to see what's within.

a tongue has no bones,
but it can break a heart.

and your tongue has proved that true,
because it tore my heart apart

i'm tired of getting used to someone. because something always happens and either they move, i move, or we simply just stop talking to each other. and that's what's happening between me and you. i had to move away and we seem to be talking less & less. i miss you. i miss you more than my fingers miss scraping a pencil against paper. and i ******* love you. i love you just as much as the stars like to be formed into constellations to create little connect the dots that represent stories. maybe even more. and i don't think that i could deal with losing another person who's personality that i adore and who's ambition that i admire and a person that seemed to become a part of me. god, i'd hate for you to read this because being poetic nowadays is outdated and quite frankly, i'd be very embarrassed if you knew that i felt this way about you. and if you don't think that i genuinely care about you, please tell me, when have i ever missed you more than right now? because we're miles and miles apart and all i can manage to do is reach for your hand.

i'm just a really sad poem with feet. my inner most thoughts and feelings are written all over me for everyone to see. i'm a freak show everyone sees just how unhappy i am with myself because i'm a poem and i'm supposed to express, right? isn't that what i'm supposed to do? well, i used to believe that i wanted to be the poem instead of the poet, but now, i think i change my mind.

years before my cycle of puberty even began,
people like you,
taught me to loathe myself.
i was very often told that i should always be me,
but when i did,
society quickly retorted, "no, not like that."
i was picked on for being quirky
but ragged on when i attempted to be average.
people wanted different
but no one wanted change
so how was that exactly supposed to work?
i was fed insults
and i bathed in self pity
and i washed my hair in humiliation
and all the rude remarks and insults that society fed me,
i threw right back up.
because it was the only things that i heard,
it was the only things that i knew
and the only things that i would think.
people like you taught me that since my skin isn't perfect,
no one would want to touch me.
people like you taught me that since i have a muffin top,
no one would want to hug me.
people like you taught me that since i don't live up to the stereotypes,
no one would want to befriend me
and people like you taught me that since i wasn't so easily manipulated into taking off my clothes and showing off the parts of me that even i didn't like to see,
boys wouldn't even dare come near me.
so when,
and if,
you get to know me,
don't blame me for not loving myself,
when people like you were telling me not to.

I'M REALLY SORRY THAT I CAN NEVER BE YOUR MOON DESPITE THE FACT THAT YOU WERE ALWAYS MY SUN. AND I'M REALLY SORRY THAT I TOOK ALL OF OUR INTELLECTUAL AND DEEP, TRUST FILLED TALKS AND CONVERSATIONS FOR GRANITE. AND I'M SORRY THAT MY FINGERS WILL NO LONGER TRACE DOWN YOUR SPINE AND MAKE YOU LAUGH. AND I'M SORRY THAT I CAN TRUHFULLY SAY THAT I WASN'T HE BEST OF A FRIEND TO YOU IN THE BEGINNING. AND I'M SORRY THAT I PUSHED YOU AWAY WHEN I REALLY WANTED YOU TO STAY. AND I'M SORRY THAT WE CAN ONLY HAVE CONVERSATIONS OVER PHONE THAT ARE SOMEWHAT AVERAGE. AND I'M SORRY THAT I MELT EVERY TIME YOU SAY SOMETHING SMOOTH AND YOU-LIKE AND SWEET. AND I'M SORRY THAT IM CLINGY NOW AND FOREVER WILL BE. AND I'M SORRY THAT THE ONLY EVER GOODBYE I CAN TRULY EVER GIVE TO YOU IS FRAMED IN BETWEEN THE WORDS OF I MISS YOU. AND I'M REALLY ******* SORRY THAT I FELL IN LOVE WITH YOU BUT TRIED SO HARD TO PUSH THAT THOUGHT IDEA SO FAR OUT OF MY HEAD. and i'm really extremely sorry that it worked.

the worst goodbyes are the ones where the word goodbye doesn't even pass out of either person's lips.
when time just seems to move along and you don't even notice that everything has changed until you put on your glasses and take a better look.
the worst goodbyes will always be the ones where promises are torn to shreds and no one will ever be there to mend them.
when a memory and a story blur together so immensely that you can't even tell the difference anymore
the worst goodbyes will always be when you pick up an old photo on the corner of your mirror and think,
"****, what the hell happened?"
the worst goodbyes are when you wake up at 3:23 am and you tumble & mess around on your phone just to find out that they're up too. but you can't message them simply out of cowardice and fear.
when your own finger can't press a single **** button to send a message because you know that what you two had is fading and you most likely will never bring it back.
the worst goodbyes are when the only goodbye you will ever get is framed in between the words of, "i wish nothing changed" and "i miss you."
when all you can seem to write or think about are the memories and the laughs and the smiles and the jokes
the worst goodbyes are the ones that you can't even fathom to think about because it feels like someone is plunging a dagger into your chest and slowly taking it out every time you do.
when the photographs plastered on your mirror & wall and the pictures saved and locked into your photo are filled with nothing but nostalgia.
and let me ******* tell you,
the worst goodbye will forever and always will be the
the story of us
the story of me and you
and you know it.

because i've come to find that love isn't found at the end of broken and shattered bottles. it doesn't just pour out of cup and it cannot just seep through my lips. i have figured out that love is not captivated inside of a medicine container and love can't just be swallowed down with a big glass of water. i've never really found love inside of the drawers in the corner in my room and nor have i found it in the empty shoe boxes that are stacked on the very top shelf of my closet. but where i have found love, is in you. because love, which i've come to find, is a note sticking to the side of a half-drunken bottle reading: Here, drink the rest. love just pours out of your lips when you slowly whisper to me, "you're unceasingly infatuating." i have finally figured out that love is stuck in the downward curl of your eyes when you give me the, "i'm only smiling for you," smile. i have always seemed to find love in the smell of your oversized t-shirt that you hate wearing and the one little bracelet that you never take off but that i now have. i have never really found love when i looked for it, but as soon i stopped looking, i found all of it in you.

let me make this clear to anyone and everyone

i ******* hate sympathy

how dare you feel sorry for me when i'm trying so hard not to feel sorry for myself? don't get me wrong, i'm glad that you're showing even a sliver of love & care towards me but ******, i wish that you'd portray it in another way. because nothing makes me feel worse than knowing that i am becoming more & more of a time thief by stealing away one's time and replacing it with my good 'ole unwanted companion, sympathy. and my goodness, how i have tried to stop the words from dancing off of my lips but they just can't seem to ******* sit still. i don't know how not to put them in such a solemn way, but i really wish that i did. it may seem like that i want you to feel sorry but no one ever comes to understand that i am only responsible for what i say not for what you interpret or comprehend so don't you dare ever let me hear you say, but you said...because NO. i did not say that is just what you thought. sympathy is stupid. sympathy is unnecessary. sympathy is the worst form of kindness and sympathy is something that i've never received until i met you. now, i am nothing but a hypocrite.

it has always been difficult telling people why they should not love me. it has always been a touchy subject for me and God i wish it wouldn't be. the only somewhat plausible justification that i have for you not to love me, is to just don't.

12:37 am

i don't think that i could ever feel immensely happy about something and then just expect not to have it ruined. i was never the type person who ever really got what they wanted, but that supposedly builds character, right? (not really) it's a lie when they say it gets easier. the first wave of disappointment didn't feel any different from the 3rd or the 14th or the 27th or the 56th. they're all the same. they all feel the same. they all hurt the same. people just give you sympathetic looks and gestures and tell you that it'll be okay, but that doesn't mean that it's okay right now. it'll is a conjuction for it will. which is future tense. that means that's not it okay right now. (and it really isn't) maybe i should stop lying to people and telling them that it's okay, in a measly attempt to spare their feelings when i should really be trying to spare my own. one of my friends told me that i'm not prone to lying. well, maybe he's wrong.

maybe God is teaching me a lesson
that i can't really seem to comprehend or grasp.
because waves of disappointment crash on the shorelines of my chest
way too often
and i immensely feel each & every euphoric granule of sand
being so easily washed away.

we used to be so close.
remember?
she envied how close we were.
she was always irritated at how
you'd come to me before you came to her.
i'd always laugh when she got mad,
but she hated me for it.
you told me your secrets.
and i told you mine.
we spoke in metaphors and similies
because you thought it was fun
and it gave me a good laugh.
i remember how on the last day of school
i ran up to hug you
and i tripped over a wooden block
and fell into you.
i was embarrassing
and clumsy
but i that one moment,
i don't think you really cared.
i remember how you hated books.
or maybe you just didn't like the ones i did?
either way,
i remember.
i moved away
and i feel so terrible.
you probably don't feel as terrible as i do
because you're a guy
and there's always other fishies in the sea, right?
maybe not
i love you
and i miss you more than moon
misses my window on a cloudy night
you texted me the other day
and told me you missed me
and i said the same

while there at 26 other people present in this room,
i feel alone;
or at least my mind has convinced me that i am.
either way,
it's nice i suppose.
and i can't really focus on anything
but do i really want to?
i could honestly not care less
whether Graph B
is steeper than Graph A
and how it has an equation of -2x-2.
i don't care if it's a
linear
quadratic
exponential
or cubic root equation
all i can seem to care about
at this moment in time
is you
you keep trying to bust your way
into my head
and make a reservation
like i have extra room.
NEWSFLASH:
i don't.
but somehow,
someway,
you have made your way in.
and i don't think you don't plan on leaving.

i cannot
and will not
sit here and speak to you
in metaphors and similes
like he did to me
because i know that you will not even come close to understanding
but neither am i gonna sit here
and zip up my mouth and lock it up
just to throw away the key and keep quiet.
but again,
i also cannot
and will not
speak to you in simplicity because
it is NOWHERE near that simple.
i am speaking nonsense
and you probably think that i'm just
jumbling letters together to create words
and having them just roll off of my tongue
but i swear to you that i'm not
i'm trying to make sense
i swear
but my thoughts aren't quite coming together
so maybe i'll just talk until they do
this is quite ironic actually
because i may be rambling,
but my feet are really, really cold.

i wanted to play God
but everyone knew
that i wasn't fit to he a leader

i used to be scared of the dark
but as i grew older,
i had no other choice
then to just
get used to it.

i linger in utter silence
it's so desolate that i can hear
my heart making its own drumbeat
from with inside my ribcage
and my mind fluster with every thought
that paces through the hollows of my mind
and i am neither scared
nor frightened
maybe i like it here

i haven't had butterflies in a really long time
it's only been a year
and people say that that's not a really long time
but to me it feels like a millennium
it feels like cobwebs have taken hold of my insides
desolate and barren.
showing no signs of movement or activity
i haven't had butterflies in a really long time
and i almost forgot what they felt like
but he reminds me exactly of how they feel
because he brought them back
with his warming smile & heart filled laugh
unintentionally of course
but they are now there
flying around
giving me giggles, tingles, and pure happiness
i haven't had butterflies in a really long time
but because of him,
they have returned home
from a harsh, extended winter
and are giving me the warmth
that i thought i forgot
and because of him i remember
and it feels really good
but maybe i don't like it

there's always something
at least one thing
that i do, or say, or think
that someone else finds
morbid, or off-beat or odd
why does it matter to them?
why must you announce it to the world
like you have the authority to do so?
because let me tell you,
you don't
but you still have the raging audacity to do it

so what if i like staring at the moon
and telling it
my life goals and dreams

          no one else cares enough to hear it. i can't just let it sit there and not be known. someone has to hear me out. so He mind as well.

so what if i happen to bite my lip so hard
that it bleeds a little and i always fidget with my necklace and ring.

          i'm nervous. i'm anxious. i have anxiety! i can't help it, and i don't even notice when i do it.

so what if i stick to myself a lot. and i'm often quiet and dress comfortable and "bummy" sometimes.

          i come here because i have to and for myself. not for you to ridicule me because what i'm wearing this certain day. because news flash, i honestly do not even remember you guys have a class with me until i see you again. i honestly don't care and i'm not trying to attract you, trust me.

and so what if i tend to cover my arms a lot! and always wear jackets and sweaters and such.

          why does it even MATTER to you?! it shouldn't. i have a skin condition and sometimes i don't feel comfortable. you don't even stop to think about that, but it's okay. i don't even want you to consider it.

my words should not concern you
unless my lips speak of your name
or if something about you happens to
tumble out of my mouth

my actions should not concern you
unless i am physically or mentally
hurting you
or another being

and my thoughts definitely should NOT concern you
because i definitely do not really think about you
when i leave

to whomever cares to listen or anyone who will even remotely understand,

i am not the person that you think i am and nor the person that my
apperance happens to give off. there is more to me than what meets
the eye. i am weaved together of cells and molecules and atoms and
genes to make this human being that several others fail to comprehend
and maybe the different assortment of my genes and molecules constructed
together is what makes you think that i am almost always hostile, but i am not.
maybe it's my crazy assortment of everything that happens to create me or
maybe something happened to cause such an inclined assumption, but let me
tell you one thing. as much as you you think i am full of hostility, i'm just as
much full of love and care. a lot of people may not think so, and a lot of the
time, i may not even think so myself, but it is true, as true as i or anyone will
make theirself believe. so maybe what i'm trying to get at here is, maybe
you should look deeper. take the time to analyze why i do the things i do. and
maybe give me the benefit of the doubt that i actually am a good person
(and a really good one at that) some people have taken the time do so and
i'm glad they did. but maybe that's what i need more of. for people to give me
the benefit of the doubt and to believe in me.  if you do, you'll see me care for
you and do that. can you do that?

sincerely,
the girl who is ALWAYS misuderstood

so you see,
there's nothing to ensure
that everything we went through
and everything you ever did to me
ever happened
there are no books
with frayed pages & cracking binds
that are tearing apart at the seams
telling our story
in words of black and white
and times new roman
with measly pieces of euphoria
hidden in between the lines
there are no aging, decrepit newspapers
with headlines of innumerable uproars
of when people had heard of
the pain that had accumulated in my heart
and started seeping its way into
the rest of my body
(because no one cared that much honestly)
simply because pf what you did
the promises you failed to keep
and your cool, calm, and caring persona
that you failed to keep fooling me with
the trees no longer whisper your name
when the rain and tree leaves
collide with each other
during a violent yet calming thunderstorm
your awfully large footprints
from where you tracked in mud
on my egg shell carpet
on your way to see me
are now washed away
and it seems as if
you were never even there
your love bites that you left
alongside of my delicate neck
that were once a deep burgundy
have no faded
and no longer show any signs
that your lips were ever pressed
against my body
it was like nothing ever happened
and since nothing was recorded
nor kept or saved
to everyone else,
and even you,
nothing ever did
and unfortunately
that's how it's gonna stay