open your eyes, please
and see my pain for once.
open your eyes
and see the hurt in mine.
open your eyes
and see me, for beyond the big sweaters
and the smiles and laughs
is someone who's falling apart
open your eyes
can't you see I'm dying?

here lies the boy who gave too much,
the boy that could have been someone’s prince,
in another life,
in another world,
on your throne made
of thin glass.
your silver medal is the chain around your neck,
it’s crucifixion,
standing trial by fire,
rosaries and scars, and ashes, ashes, we all fall down,
we’ve all got rotten posies in our pockets.
you fell from grace when you least expected it,
a sinner and a heartbreaker,
instead of the saint and healer you wanted to be.
with a soul in your hand and a smirk on your lips,
you held me close with no idea how to love.
but you wanted to, oh, I know you did, you ached for it,
felt It in your bones,
and your heart,
and your beautiful mind.
you built your love on lies and texts and late-night calls,
your calculated chaos too thin to hold your weight
and mine.
the third time I lost you, I was gone before I could finish the story.

if I ever let you go
please know
I didn't want to

do you know how much I wish we still talked?
do you know how much I wish I could hear your laugh one more time?
do you know how much I wish I could hold you again?
how much I wish you could be mine?
how much I wish you cared?
how much I wish I could stroke every feature of your face like I used to?
how much I want you back?

a perfect Juliet.
do you know who she really is?
she looks perfect, doesn't she?
you think you've met HER.
the one, the only.
so peel the beautiful mask from her face, and see who she really is.
so take off the pretty costume, and see what she really dons.
so take her beautiful hair
and snip it off

and see who remains. is she still
beautiful?

I can still remember the first time I laughed
after you left.
I think I was with a friend,
watching funny videos
on YouTube.
A cat stood on its hind legs, head over heels,
the same way I fell for you.
and I laughed,
quietly,
but it grew louder until it was hysterical.
the first time laughing after you
felt so, so good.
I miss you.
but at least I know
I can be happy
without you.

i'm a liar.
when someone asks me about you,
i want to cry until i lose the air you stole from me
in your thousands of kisses.
i miss you the way that the Earth misses a rainforest.
but i smile
and pretend i don't miss you.

you're a liar.
when someone tells you i miss you,
i think you want to wrap your arms around me
and love me again,
love me like you did years ago.
but you smile
and pretend you don't care.

ego is a hell of a drug.

I am from screens and bright machines
that show whole new worlds
that I use to pretend I’m
not living in this one.

I am made of the sharp smell
of artificial apples and cinnamon
burning your throat as you breathe it in
like secondhand smoke.

I am made of lonely days
spent on my phone
pretending to laugh when people say or send something
because I know they need the ego boost.

I am made of late nights
when I shut my phone off
and I start to cry
because I know that no one thinks about me after I go.

I am made of hours spent huddled
as my brother spits vitriol at my parents
and they take it with willing ears and become submissive dogs
with tails between their legs.

I am made of hellfire
carefully bottled up
until someone pushes me to the edge
and I am ready to ****.

I am of thousands of cups of black coffee
sobbed over at three am
alone in my kitchen
hands searing, but refusing to let go.

I am from carefully counting every dollar
wondering when
I am allowed
to leave this town.

I am from four am walks
alone through the town
taking in the sights
and praying the sun will rise.

There’s a shattered hand mirror in my room.
Broken glass litters the cold dark marble
and teardrops drip all over the shards,
because even in all of these things that I am,

I am still not good enough for myself.

has a moment gone by
where I haven't thought
of you?

confession: every morning, when I first wake up,
I roll over, and start to say,
"Good morning."
but you're not there,
and you're never there.
all I catch is a slight whiff of your cologne,
because I haven't been able to bring myself to wash the sheets,
since you left.
so I start to cry,
every morning.

funny how now you only live
in that polaroid
picture

don't let them see your hurt.
smile politely, keep your chin up, and walk away.
even if you're crying on the inside.

don't mistake
salt for sugar
if she wants you
deeply, really wants you
she will cherish you
and when you try to leave
like you always do
she will love you enough to keep you
and tell you to stay.
don't mistake
salt for sugar.

she will
mean everything to you.
-future ace

maybe if I learn how to keep
my mouth shut
I’ll finally be happy.

do you know what it's like?
what it's like to be truly starving?
to wake up in the morning, and immediately dash to your mirror
like it's a door out and your house is on fire?
to pinch your sides and sigh at the ugly person in the silver glass?
do you know what it's like to think "still fat?" over and over and over again?
to have to choose baggy clothes so your parents won't freak?
to skip breakfast, then lunch, then dinner?
what it's like to always feel cold,
and tired,
and sick?
do you know what it's like to face the scariest, most terrifying bit of it all?
do you know what it's like
to love starving?

chilled, dry, chapping winds slowly begin to glide away
and warm, sweet-smelling spirits fall upon us
the white coat of winter melts
as i walk hand-in-hand with someone who means the world and more to me
the earth’s tender surface comes to life again
with lush greens and flowers in the brightest colours
and as she holds me in her embrace
with her fragrance like the sweetest bloom
my world, my vision, my very soul seem to awaken
like the way the brightest hues return
as the spring overcomes the arctic
the long, dark, silent winter’s nights disappear
and lively, moist, warm nights overtake them
and as her eyes meet mine
and her face opens in a smile like a flower of the most beautiful kind
all is right again in my world.

my hands looked young,
once.
worry ripped the skin on my nails
to bleeding shreds.
sadness and self-hate
sliced my wrists and arms.
work wore my hands to sandpaper.
my nails shortened.
my skin cried red tears.
my fingers became broken.
my palms became rough and calloused.
my hands are not the hands of a young girl's anymore,
nor are they the hands of a delicate flower.
they are the hands
of a strong woman.