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Adrianna Aarons Jan 2017
i’ve been conditioned
like freshly washed hair
for years
do not offend
unless the end of the sentence is “i’m sorry”
let the shoes and boots and heels of many make indents on you
like blueprints of demurity swaddled in insecurity
kept alive by the blurry ideas i once held about femininity
because I couldn't be a girl if the words that flew from my chords
were anything but rosy
ring around the rosie,
pockets full of suppose he was to compliment your ****
when walking down a thorough-fair
busy people back and forth and grandmas with wrinkled sweaters
thank you
muttered from chapped lips and an even more chapped psyche
why must i keep my wits about to not risk making him angry
that was not complimentary but i am fearful he might spit my words back onto me
in the form of fists and slurs and honestly
i'm tired
of being the sidewalk beneath the feet of creeps
i am the sky and the trees and the moon
but i do not speak with the wisdom of traveling seeds
i speak with the warmth and subtly of freshly microwaved milk
like soft silk i wish i could tatter
i wish venom soaked words could be spit in response to your “compliments”
but i would rather let you diminish me for the few moments it takes to objectify me
than to risk angering your inner beast and suffering the consequences of meninism or masculinism
whatever the word is this week
i will not be another number
ink soaked paper red with the monthly bloodshed of the sisters
every second is another unspeakable act
i see women
with tongues as round and large as planets
and tonsils the size of solar systems
birthing new galaxies in the words they speak
and shooting comets like fiery ***** of comebacks
when that slack-jawed fool sat and wished and drooled
Adrianna Aarons Feb 2017
i have polaroid’s on my wall

of all the boys i used to kiss.

there are ***** dishes in the sink 
and i think this will be the year that

i pretend to love people just because

there’s nothing else to do.

i spend my time reading poems about girls

who have broken hearts and smoke cigarettes.

i spend my time reading poems about girls 

who rip their ribcage open just to find out

that there is nothing left inside except 
empty beer bottles.

i get drunk and slip into silk 
and realize that i am a combination of

1/3 love and 2/3 champagne bubbles

and i think to myself,

"maybe this is what it’s like to be 
the hurricane instead of the rain."
Adrianna Aarons Dec 2014
Lord knows
I've fallen into the rusty hidden comfort
of too many mens' arms.

I've found all  the wrong ways of coping,
so what're the right ones?
Adrianna Aarons Mar 2015
I know falling apart is just

one of those easy things,

but I guess I was really

hoping it would have been

harder than it looked.
I must look so put together.

I mean, that has to be

why I shift inside and outside

of wide shadowed rooms,

it’s like the shadows are not

ever dark enough to make me

want to stay.

I still cry during corny movies

because I wish things really

did fall together like that.

I wish my bones weren’t

made from glass.
They’ll never ask about

the cavities in your teeth

but you’re still making sure

they know about how you brush

2 times a day (sometimes 3) and then

you floss until your gums are sore

but you always leave out the part
where you grind your back molars too much

whenever you try to sleep.

The dentist told you it was totally normal

but soon they’re crumbling and you think:

No, not so normal.
The days when I smile, I look sad

and the days when I cry, I look happy.
It’s like I’m all muddled together

from trying to switch the gears

too fast.

I revved my engine

until I couldn’t even roar anymore.
Falling apart was just 
too easy to ever
try to make it hard

and some girl in my science class

keeps saying something

about the tragedies being art

but this isn’t poetic

or pretty,

how could it be

when falling apart should never

come this easy?
Adrianna Aarons Dec 2014
I’ve been thinking about the first time I laid eyes on you,
I’ve been thinking about you way too much lately, if you ask me.
You don’t need someone like me,

You don’t need a weight to hold you down while you run from
The east coast to the west coast to north to south,
Waiting for you to return to me.
Adrianna Aarons Jan 2015
i stopped looking you in the eyes a while ago.
i hate seeing that there is nothing but emptiness
in the heart that i used to call home.
i hate seeing that you have moved on.
it’s easier to believe
“i love you”
when i don’t have to see how much
lying hurts your soul.
Adrianna Aarons Feb 2015
I wish you'd develop and addiction to me
in the same way you're addicted
to your menthols.
Adrianna Aarons Dec 2014
It’s all internal now.
You’re in a room.
No door,
no windows—
just four tall,
white walls.
The walls shake uncontrollably,
as if the earth were coming to an end.
What’s happening?
stop shaking,"
you say.
"That’s enough."
You wonder if you’ve ever had any control over the walls at all;
they don’t seem to listen to you.
everything will come tumbling down,
and you can’t do anything about it.
You sit and wait.

through the nonexistent cracks in the walls,
waves come crashing
over your head and
down to your feet.
If a spark were to touch the water right now,
the room would instantly turn to ashes—
or so it feels.
You close your eyes,
hoping for an escape.
Yet you still know where all the water is,
simply by following the un-ignorable surge
that is felt across your entire body with each ever-growing hit of a wave.

Where are you?
Why don’t the walls break already?
And why aren’t you dead yet?

You open your eyes again
as you jolt awake in the middle of the night.
Your heart is pounding and your hands are trembling.
The beginning of the waves—
you’ve felt them.
Adrianna Aarons Dec 2014
All I ask for is

a second or two of your
just a moment so you can read these

I sit around, alone in this room
longing to feel
something close to feelings
something close to remind me
I’m human
    …I think

well, I got a heartbeat
and this heart
for you

and I got two eyes to see
and all these eyes
is you

it’s just two more seconds
hate to waste your time
I just wanted to show
here on these
written by someone barely human
being read by your beautiful blue
even people that are barely human
need someone they can call
Adrianna Aarons Jan 2015
know that we only have these
fleeting hours to keep us going
until next we meet,

but I only want to drown in your embrace
and fall into a content sleep.
If it were up to me, I
leave. I will be your everything,
I will tell you anything
that you want to hear.

We will bury ourselves
underneath your comforter,
locked in your bedroom

and away from everything else.
You would sing me what I know,
you would hold me close to you,

and sing me what I don’t know.
I will tell every star in the sky
how desperately I
to be here. I will wish to
anchor myself here, to your bed,
to you. You would kiss
until the moon goes down. And
I ask you in the darkness, wrapped up
in your blankets, arms and heartbeat,

if we can stay forever this way.
Adrianna Aarons Dec 2014
I am a step behind death,
Following slowly behind the blackness.
I am a step beyond love,
Leaps and bounds beyond what everyone talks about.

And I will die trying to stop that plane.
The plane that’ll carry you away,
Back over the rainbow, to your musical life
And sun kissed afternoons
I will die trying to hold you here.

I am a step behind death,
Heaven and Hell are leading me down.
I am a mile beyond love,
Feet and yards beyond what everyone else feels.

And I will die trying to keep you here.
The place you came to explore,
Foggy and rainy and lonely and empty,
With no sun or the sky to bid you welcome.
Just the girl that wants to trap you here.

I am right beside death.
The dark is helping me hold this airplane down.
I am mountains beyond love.
Treks and journeys beyond what everyone talks about.
Adrianna Aarons Jan 2017
Let’s play a game.
Hey, boy, left of the dealer, deal me some cards,
But take out the jokers because even though I like funny guys,
I don’t wanna be dealt any of your cheap moves.

Instead, deal me the aces.
Deal me the kings, queens, and jacks because
I want the best of what you’ve got.
Even deal me the twos and threes because, honestly,
I want to know what you’re not.

And if you don’t have two of a kind, that’s okay-
I’ll have a match.
We’ll pair up our hearts
Because together we will pump more life into this world.
Share our twos and threes
Because exposing our weaknesses will lead to a stronghold.
Sell our diamonds because
Pretty, petty things will only lead to a belief in the value of fool’s gold.

We’ll de-clare war.
Grab the spades and clubs because love is more than just a game for two.
It is a battlefield.

And by the look in your eyes you’ve been shot by too many queens of hearts with cupid’s arrow.
So show me your scars.
Open heart surgery won’t hurt that much.
C’mon, we’ll play operation.
I’ll be the doctor, and you’ll be the patient.
Hand me the scalpel,
don’t scream now,
I might have forgotten the anesthesia.

But don’t worry,
Laughter is the best medicine.
And I am funny.
Trust me.
Trust me, trust me, trust me.
Open yourself up because this scalpel just isn’t working.

What queen of hearts decided she could steal yours?
Give me a clue.
Was it Mrs. White in the kitchen with the rope?
Mrs. Peacock in the ballroom with the dagger?
It was Mrs. Scarlett in the coat closet?

No, no, no.
Don’t bump me back to start-- I’m sorry.

Our pasts are not taboo.
Every why or what or who has merely been a teetering, tottering
domino set in place along my ribcage.
Waiting for you to tip the first barrier and clear the path to my heart.

We can treat this like a slow game of Jenga.
Building slowly until we run out of blocks and then we’ll stop.
Because taking turns tearing it down can come later.
And by later I mean maybe, hopefully, possibly never.

Or…we could just play Uno.
Tossing all our
matches into a messy pile.
Using our wild cards to avoid drawing anything that might drag us back into the game,
Reverse cards, skip your next turn cards,
It’s all the same.

But that’s okay because I know this game of risk is just a temporary thrill.
It’s the missing first kisses, the oh baby it’s you I can’t resist,
and the oh god my broken heart wants to jump off all of these suicidal bridges.
This game will end.
Because this isn’t love.
It’s really just teenage betting-on-an-ace-of-hearts pretend.
Adrianna Aarons Dec 2014
She seemed so distantly broken.
Haunted shadows lurk in dark corners,
waiting for the slight curve of her smile,
the first sign of happiness,
to attack.
Crashing her world down around her,
I offer my hand to pull her out
of the familiar rubble,
scooping her up in my arms,
searching for safe ground
where the suicide bombers of depression
won’t be able to touch her.
Fear raged through her body
like fever and overdose.
Worlds spinning circles,
colors blurring
and behind
hazy eyes
shallow breaths.
Sticking graves into the tortured hollows
of the chambers of the heart.
She is limb against my body
and I know that standing will not
be easy,
but I am strong enough for you
to lean on.
The backbone that will keep you upright,
for I am one of the few
parts of yourself that you love,
and I have never needed you more.
A screaming ambulance arrives
and paramedics flushing
your veins full of
IV bags with hope.
Clearing the poison of your system left behind
by the touch of demons
who have been haunting you for five years.
But I have known you my entire life.
Small girl, curly hair,
chipped nail polish,
black eye makeup.
I can instantly recognize you
as myself.
Brought together by chance,
in a classroom used as a safety base
for life’s game of tag that kept hitting us.
About ready to quit,
we were offered the chance
to love ourselves and eachother.
And through that discovery, this game
became so much easier to play
once we can double team it.
Quickly developed a love
you do not find in romantic relationships.
A comfort that lies solely in the unbreakable
bond of twins.
Spilled secrets
over steaming mugs
of raspberry tea.
Late night talks and comfort food binges.
We no longer had to speak.
We told stories with our eyes,
and painted murals with mascara tracks,
and crimson tears washed down the drains
from our thighs.
Our weakest moments hitting carefully.
No shorts.
No skirts.
No dresses.
The truth kept behind stained bandages
tucked away in bottom drawers
quietly stuffing our ***** secrets into our laundry.
Red lipstick hearts
on mirrors and
X’s on the backs of our hands,
marking us discounted;
damaged goods.
Returned over
and over again
until insecurity was definite and hope
was a far off dream so
we stretched our clipped wings,
no longer able to fly so we
simply had to learn how to break
the falls.
So we tightened the screws on pencil sharpeners
so the blade couldn’t be extracted in a moment of
then poured our heart and souls
into glasses and toasted to our futures.
I want to wrap you in laughter
and sing to you the soundtrack of
the best memories that we had.
You deserve this happiness
and tonight
you are alive
and you are beautiful
even if you don’t want to be.
So take my hand
and close your eyes.
Just listen.
I love you,
just breathe.
Adrianna Aarons Dec 2014
Feeling should be beautiful,
not so ******* painful all the time.
Adrianna Aarons Feb 2017
You are cancer cells and
Broken bones and
Shards of glass and
A burnt down home, you
Drowned me out so I couldn't breathe, you
Pulled the rug from right under me, but
I found a life raft out at sea and
Saved myself from everything
Adrianna Aarons Jan 2017
Blue was your favorite color
and I haven’t worn it since.
It reminds me of the sky that I thought you had painted for me,
how you always saw faces in the clouds
and you told me their stories.
The midday horizon matches the hue of your deep ocean eyes
but only my eyes have ever seemed to flood.
When you moved on I finally knew what green felt like
as loss and envy went fingerpainting across my bones until my bloodstream
was slow-flowing emerald,
the same shade of green danced alongside you
in the form of a dress.
I wonder if she ever felt the glowing yellow that illuminated my insides
every time that you called me beautiful and made me feel
like a gold ray of sunshine on a summer’s day.
But now,
I’m starting to favor winter.
I still inhale icy breaths as the shades of red you evoked within me
linger like migraines,
sharp pain that you left behind,
a scar that cannot be concealed because it’s so hard to hide
from the shades of scarlet that once painted your face.
I see your colors everywhere,
I remember feeling safe with you,
I never knew that I could become homesick from people too.
You were a rainbow and I was a shade.
You brought everything to life,
you made the stars dance and my face new tones of paint.
Then you decided that light tones just weren’t for you
and I missed
shades of perfect blue.
I’ve become a morning person so I can see the sky before it turns tones of you.
The orange-pink horizon has become my new favorite color
and I wear it every day in the highlights of my eyes and my skin,
it begins to feel warm again
and the long car rides and radio dials that sing melodies
no longer remind me of you.
We loved each other like change of the weather but can never make sense
of the storms within us.
If souls had colors
I remember I used to think ours were the same.
Same shade of sapphire storms that brewed within our lungs,
the words you screamed went heavy on our tongues.
All I hear are the winds through this hurricane.
I can’t see my way out
I only see you
I can only scream out
I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.
I poured everything into this but we were always empty,
empty minds, empty hands.
The ground we built has become unsteady to stand on.
I remember when you left I saw the red seeping through the cracks in my palms
of where yours used to fit so perfectly.
I don’t remember the sorrow,
I don’t recall the pain.
I remember the relief
and how every color was just beautiful.
I thought the world was going to be so dark
without you.
Adrianna Aarons Dec 2014
Angel, Devil, Savior, Killer, Lover,
I am moving all the mountains I can,
But they crumble and I run for cover,
For I’m more afraid than you understand.
Escape from real life, my sweet, sweet relief,
Because in reality, you are far.
I am insane and you bring me peace,
I’d **** to be exactly where you are.
I would take excellent care of you, dear.
I would bring all the heavens crashing down.
I would eliminate all of your fears,
Atop your mane, I’d lay a silver crown.
Angel, Devil, Savior, Killer, Lover,
I’d do anything to be your cover.
Adrianna Aarons Jan 2017
You are too old for your looks, dear gentleman
Dear gentleman, you are much too spry
You jump like a wallaby, dear gentleman
And you run much faster than I

When I am snoozing, dear gentleman
You wake me up,
Because you’re hungry for food
Dear gentleman, I was sleeping
I find this, at times, very rude

Dear gentleman, you don’t go outdoors very much
You always stay inside
Watching the birds taunting you
This really must hurt your pride

When I leave the house, dear gentleman
You stay standing guard
Dear gentleman, I must praise you
For this job must be very hard

Dear gentleman, you don’t speak English
You speak some foreign tongue
I cannot understand you, dear gentleman
I can’t decode the songs you’ve sung

Dear gentleman, I must thank you
For you a such a good friend
You and I, dear gentleman
What a pleasant blend!
Adrianna Aarons Dec 2014
Do you remember those nights we used to share,
when the sunrise was our reminder
that it was getting a little too late.
And when you'd look at me and tell me
"you have so much to live for. and I love you."
And how we would hold hands all the time,
like a thousand earthquakes
and the wrath of God himself couldn't separate us.
Do you remember how we'd sing songs in your car,
like the summer breeze was a melody,
and it was our mission to sing it,
and the way we would finish each other's sentences by accident?
How I would stay up late writing about the stars I found in your eyes,
and the heaven in your hands,
because nobody had a way with words like you did,
and whether you admit it or not you knew your way around the pen pretty **** well.
And those fights we got in,
those glorious fights,
when we'd swear to god we hated each other
but we both knew we only wanted to be loved just a little bit more.
And how we fell in love so young,
and it was like water into wine,
from daylight kisses to hands on thighs,
and they always warn me about it
but I’d just say ***** it,
we're young because teenagers have a way to find such beauty in naivety.
Do you remember that day I walked through the rain,
and although it felt like a ******* hurricane
your touch warmed me up like a cup of hot chocolate on a snowy day,
and we'd always joke how I couldn't run a mile
but when it was to see your face
we both knew I could walk a hundred.
And we can't forget the first time we saw Marina & the Diamonds,
and we sang every word,
and you seemed scared to sing along
but I’d look over and see how into it you were.
I knew that once you spread your wings there was no way to stop you,
and you came running back to me with the biggest smile on your face
and I knew it'd be one of those moments we'd never forget.
And then there was that day
when I messed up and the scars on my legs
bled worse than they ever have before,
and you could have left me out to sting
but you opened your arms and held me and said
"it's gonna be okay.”
And you just held me.
And I know I bring it up all the time,
but you can't tell me you've forgotten the night we fell in love,
and my nervous hands were shaking
It was one of those moments that people sing songs about
because it only happens once in a lifetime,
and I still remember.
We’d walk under the night sky together.
And when we laid down into the grass,
we didn't even exchange a look;
it was like the stars guided us into each other's arms
and when our eyes met we lowered our walls
and all those years we'd been beaten down from the inside out disappeared,
and there was threat of an invasion,
that was clear,
but it was worth the risk.
And the second our lips touched,
it was like we were thrown into sea together,
left to fend for ourselves.
Us against the world.
And I'll always remember how we had to run back to your mom's car,
because we'd lost track of time looking at the stars,
and that ride home was the best of our young lives.
And I know we drifted,
and I learned how to be a **** up,
but you've always been able to read in between my lines,
and on the nights where there's nothing separating me between sleeping and siren lights,
I know that I'm a phone call away from my first love.
And looking back someday,
I hope you remember me not as
"that girl you were with for 16 months"
or the girl who took your virginity,
but "that kid who loved you with her entire heart."
And who still does.
Adrianna Aarons Feb 2017
You were a wave of cancer cells and broken bones that came crashing on me. I finally got my head up and I'm floating on.
Adrianna Aarons Jan 2017
I am a fraction;
a small shard of
something you adore. Even
after all the times you tore me
into bits, left me for dead,
I still come crawling, lovesick,
back to you. I silently beg for
your attention, love, touch, ever-
pure affections. Even after all
the times you broke me,
left me empty, I still come
crawling back to you. Come
to float in a dark sea of name-
less faces and become a shard
of the mirror that stares back
at you with adoration glowing
in its curious eyes. When I am
a piece of something, something
that means the world to you, it
suddenly doesn’t matter how
many times you’ve shattered me
or ripped me in two. Even after
every time you implied I’ll never
be exactly the girl of your big,
dizzy, starlet-laced dreams,
I come crawling back to you
so I can set myself up for falling
in love with the very person who
neglects me best and cares the
least for me. So I can set myself
up for falling back in love with
Adrianna Aarons Dec 2014
Everyone talks about depression as if they know it.  
But what they don’t know
is that depression is a hooded figure standing just outside of a wooden doorway,
it’s feeling the blood dripping down your skin and having the sick thought of
“Oh, look how beautiful the red is”
Depression is lying on your bed for hours on end,
salt tracks lining your face like the scars on your ankles,
staring at your ceiling
tracing patterns in the paint and accepting death in life with this hole in your chest
because death is a reward,
an escape from this pain you deserve to feel.
Depression is writing sick poetry on skin and publishing it with scars,
cutting on ankles,
not wrists
because you’re scared you’ll get in trouble
but you so desperately need to be seen,
and never are.
Depression is writing the word “alone”
and seeing the word
accepting the pain like a gift because you deserve it.
Depression is admitting suicidal thoughts to paper and not to people,
and loving the broken things,
hoping to tie them together,
thinking maybe things will get better,
but knowing that’s just wishful thinking.
Depression is hearing your mother call you monster and disgusting
through the too-thin walls of your door
when she thinks you can’t hear,
and then telling you to your face that you have no right to cry,
as if sadness is a privilege and you’re so pathetic that you don’t deserve it.
Depression is shutting yourself up in your room
and hearing your family laughing downstairs
because you feel like you can’t be a part of them
and learning at a young age to love family always
but that family isn’t always love
Depression is wanting to take
love and your heart
and break them into tiny little pieces and throw them into waves,
to throw them away
Depression is a foot when the shoe hasn’t been broken in yet,
is when you haven’t broken life in,
is seeing happy people and thinking they all look the same,
like the front covers of magazines
with smiles reaching their eyes when yours can’t.
Depression is wishing you could package your smiles
into tiny little piles and hand them to people more deserving of them
because you know you’re wasting them with half-assed lines of
“I’m fine.”
Depression is having to view your past
as if it wasn’t yours.
Depression is a hooded figure standing just outside
of a wooden doorway
and when you close the door out of fear
it keeps pounding,
and when you open the door out of anger you shout,
to thin air
but your voice comes out as a whisper.
Adrianna Aarons Dec 2014
If I could send a message in a bottle
Of every thought I’ve ever thought of you
It’d take a million years for you to read it
I bet I’d leave you speechless
Because I know that you’ve never doubted
Any love that’s true

If I could sail the ocean on a sailboat
I’d search around the world for you, my dear
I would even stop for a moment
Because you’re my one and only
And nothing would mean more to me
Than having you right here

I have this funny feeling that you’re waiting
Praying every night I’ll come around
Take you in my arms and give you comfort
Even though I was hurt
Because you took my heart into the air
And then dropped it to the ground

I wish that I would find you on an island
With nothing of your own but a cigarette
All alone and talking to no one
I will be your someone
Because I loved you at the darkest times
Just like the day we met
Adrianna Aarons Jun 2015
“Ye—yes, s—sir,” Alex stuttered, sitting up and backing against the sofa.

“Well..” Mr. Joyce clutched the knife tightly in his fist, his knuckles turning white from intense anger. He could feel his son’s eyes growing wider and drops of sweat dwindling down the side of his face. He could hear his son’s heart rate and breathing quicken, and could feel the transfer of cower make the couch shake in unison to his son, on his leg. Mr. Joyce grinned. He moved quickly and pinned Alexander against the back of the couch with his forearm across his neck. Mr. Joyce could feel his son struggling to breathe. He smiled spitefully. Mr. Joyce slowly brought the knife to his son’s face, making sure he could see it.

“Now,” Mr. Joyce whispered maliciously. Alexander’s pupils dilated at the sight of the knife, tears rolling down his face and landing on his father’s arm. He brought the knife closer to his son’s neck, gently poking his delicate skin to see him tremble in fear. “You’ll be an even better son.” He pressed down, carefully breaking his elusive skin and watched in delight as the first trickles of blood broke free. Overcome with fury, Mr. Joyce plunged the blade into him deeper, watching in satisfaction while the crimson blood soaked into the boy’s soccer uniform, poured onto his arm, and onto the couch. Mr. Joyce dragged the knife slowly across his throat, reveling in the slight struggle the boy attempted in putting up. Gurgling sounds escaped Alexander’s mouth, but he was soon silent and still. The blood of Mr. Joyce’s failure of a son darkened the cream colored sofa with every drop that fell from his neck, drying to a deep, disappointing brown.

Mr. Joyce looked to his wife, still gripping the blood-stained knife in his hand and breathing deeply. Krystine peered up to him from the magazine in nonchalance, “After everyone’s finished with dinner, I’ll call to order a new sofa.” She sat up to retrieve the plates of blood-touched sandwiches on the table.

“Aw,” Krystine sighed, looking down at the dishes, then to her husband, “these were my mother's nice plates.”
Adrianna Aarons Jan 2015
Brown leaves and red leaves
And yellow like your hair
Hugs and secrets and baring our souls
And things we wouldn’t normally share

The air is crisp and cold and mean
Like poisonous darts on my skin
These evils that attack my delicate heart
Are tearing it limb from limb

Let’s fall back to the twenty-third of June
If our sweaty pinkies hugged it out
And promised each other everything
Then what was that all about?

My cheeks are pink and sting from outside
You’d normally pull me in from the cold
Because you were shy and I was shy
But together we were bold

Now you’re out, around and around
Never to return again
Just skipping all over and playing cards
With a redhead named Mary Jane

My favorite cowardly lion has found her courage
And left me to face the fact
She’s gone and left every scar open
With no hope of falling back
Adrianna Aarons Jan 2017
Your heart is the same shape and size
as a fist
But don’t use it like one
because hearts
they aren’t metaphors like a fist
they cannot be healed with stitches and a band-aid
The ability to touch does not mean the ability to feel
and waiting for your heart to heal
it’s a hell of a lot more than antiseptic
My fury for you
I threw some punches
I tried to break open that prison that holds your heart captive
but I guess my voice just wasn’t the right frequency because it’s still in tact
and yes,
when the world went quiet for a moment
I could hear the gears of the universe turning inside of you and I loved the sound of it
but that’s my fault
You told me I was too young and I don’t see the way that the real world works
and that’s because I view the world in metaphors but life
is not poetry
I knew the woman at the beauty supply store had never had her heart broken
when she kicked me out of the hair isle for slathering shampoo on my chest
because I was hoping the suds would seep in through my skin and
find their way to my heart
The label on the bottle read anti-breakage
I just couldn’t resist to try
The librarian was confused when I returned the dictionary that smelled like peroxide and was covered in band-aids
Maybe she had never been hurt by words or maybe
life is not poetry
I told you that kissing you was like waking up right before seeing the sun rise
after the apocalypse
You didn’t understand
I told you that I wanted to string the stars from your bedroom ceiling so you would always have something to count on and again you didn’t understand
I told you my heart was a quilt of mixed-matched fabric with flaws and failures crudely sewn together with good intentions
You still didn’t understand even though our internal wounds are stitched up using the same thread
Because life is not poetry
Life is real and I am so **** good at letting people love me
it scared me to see my joy sitting in your hands
slipping through the creases of your fingers like sand
I stopped saying your name when it started sounding real to me
So I guess this is how it ends
With the realization that I could shatter and leave my broken pieces under your pillow
and you still would not dream of me
So don’t
use your heart like a fist
because life is not poetry
I am not a metaphor
I’m not a phrase
an expression or an exclamation
I’m not a simile and I’m certainly not a hyperbole
But I’d rather have ink on my hands than blood
Adrianna Aarons Jan 2015
I’ve been driving all night
Over frozen lakes and streams.
Though everything is frozen,
I’m sure you can melt my heart,
Which is racing alongside my mind.
Am I still alive?
Because I’m almost sure I’m dreaming.
Heaven’s about an hour away,
So are your bright blue eyes,
Your smiling face.
My cheeks are red and I wish I’d stop looking
So in love and ridiculous,
But it’s hard to hide the obvious.
Wrap your arm around my shoulders and keep me warm
Because everything outside is frozen.
Lightning is flashing all around us, but I am almost sure
You’ll keep me safe with your bright hazel eyes
And smiling face and heart so warm it’s almost burning.
Do you know that everyone around is staring?
Honestly? You want to know the truth?
They’re all lies, dreams, hallucinations of mine;
I can guarantee they won’t be here long.
Even though I’m not that much to you,
Just a smiling, brown-eyed, truthful ripple in a sea of lies,
I am almost sure negative eight degrees will freeze hell over
Before you recognize my face, know my name,
Look me over with your bright blue eyes, and smiling face
And heart so warm it’s almost burning,
Tonight’s a broken record for my senses.
I can feel your touch, hear your voice, see your bright blue eyes
And smiling face like it was yesterday.
Your heart so warm it’s almost burning
Melting everything outside that’s
Adrianna Aarons Jan 2017
you remind me that

there is still some beauty left

in this world of mine
Adrianna Aarons Feb 2015
Dear, when June kisses me Hello
the way you never did

and the temperature outside
hits one hundred and five,
I will think of the way I’m feeling
right now to cool myself down.

Because not since last year
have I felt so deeply chilled.

My bones are made of ice,
my eyes are snow, my heart
needs thawing. And if you don’t
warm it, oh well,

I’ll just stay frozen solid
till I drop dead and melt in hell.

They think I’m mad, I’m
crazy broken, but they just don’t know
what it’s like when someone
so wonderful has you hoping.

Even when my hopes
are defeated,

shot down
after flying so high,
I’ll force myself
to keep believing.
Adrianna Aarons Dec 2014
Dear, can I be honest with you?
I just don’t know anymore; I don’t know what to do.
I’ve forgotten how to be the girl everyone needs me to be.
And I don’t know how I got so far away from you.
I just don’t know why you even stuck around or why
You even dared to raise your glass to many more last nights.

Never once in my wildest nightmares did it come to this, but here we are.
Swallowing the water we’re surrounded by and being weighed down.
And the more we try to stay up, the more we drown.
Never once in my greatest daydream did you even stick around, but here you are.
But it’s only a matter of time before you close the door on any chance we had.
But it’s only a matter of time before we go back to being empty and sad.

I long to be near you, just to stand by you.
I’ve said it too many times and you’re probably tired
Of hearing my voice, this sorry broken record.
It all makes sense when I look into your eyes.
Everything falls into place when your baby browns meet mine,
But when I look away, it’s all askew and undefined.

Life has thrown me curveballs I’ve managed to dodge.
I’ll never regret catching you, you random act of God.
You’ve given me hope and found me when I was lost.
You are too good for me and I don’t need to be told twice.
But I need to be around you to keep myself alive, to keep myself up.
The touch of your skin, the sound of your voice, I can’t get enough.

I’m being honest, dear.
Adrianna Aarons Jan 2015
I want his soul to strip down,
completely naked.
I want to see all the scars and imperfections formed inside.
I want to tell him not to be afraid,
but hell,
I’m afraid because I destroy everything I touch.
And what if I actually get a chance to touch his soul,
not just his body;
it’s a make or break situation,
and hell,
when I’m done,
I bet his body will be a hurricane named after me.
Adrianna Aarons Jan 2015
I know you’re good at lying
You’ve got the lips for spinning webs
One slip of the tongue can build a tower
A tower that we can live in together
We can grow old in the little house of lies
The strong castle you built for me
Sit by the fire, fed by the fairytales you tell
And tell each other more lies all night long
So, lovely liar, would you tell me one lie?
Would you pretty please tell me
That I mean more than anything?
It really would be wonderful if you lied
And told me how much you love me

Don’t lie, you’re good at lying
You know what everyone wants to hear
One or two minutes and you’ve got them smiling,
Even if it isn’t the whole truth and nothing but
You and I could smile for hours, you know
I can tell you what you did to my heart
All the little things that drove me crazy in love
No doubt you’ll smile at that
Then you can lie and say that you love me,
You can lie and tell me how much better
Life got for you once I stepped in
It’d surely make me smile if you lied
And told me how much you love me

No one knows, but I know you’re good at lying
You’ve got the sincerity in your voice for telling tales
One word can build a boat
A boat we can live on together
We can sail the sea of lies on the little rowboat
The indestructible rowboat made of your lies
Sail the seven seas, protected by every little lie
Every single lie you’ve told me
And I won’t mind
If you lied
And told me how much you loved me.If
Adrianna Aarons Dec 2014
I’m trying to write this poem but all I can come up with is:

I ******* miss you.
I miss every little thing about you.
I want to go home.
But you were my home.
And you kicked me out.

I’m trying to come up with all the things I’ve been wanting to say to you.

But all I can think about are the tears rolling down my face
And how you used to hold me and kiss my forehead,
Dry my tears with your sleeve,
And tell me everything would be okay again.

I was trying to forget you, so that maybe I could move on.

But then I found our box.
Full of pictures,
Movie tickets,
Love letters,
The “C+A” ceramic slab I made for you last year,
And the letter I wrote to you while I was in the hospital.

I was trying to forget you.

So I taught myself to be numb.
I learned how to shut everything out.
I convinced myself I didn’t care,
Not just about everything around me,
But myself too.

I was trying to apologize.

But you didn’t care.
Nobody cared.
Nobody wanted to listen.
Everyone had already given up on me.

I was trying so hard, and I still am.

But sometimes I wish I could wake up on the day I met you and start all over again.
Other times I wish taking those 15 Tylenol *** had worked.
Adrianna Aarons Dec 2014
They say high school is supposed to be the best four years of your life,
When you make memories that last a lifetime.
You know, something like high school musical.

Somebody forgot to mention that it doesn’t apply to those who don’t meet a certain criteria.
You must be this athletic, this smart, this talented, and this attractive to enjoy your ride for the next four years.

When I found out I didn’t qualify for any of the above I was already buckled in and already making my way up the hill,
And when on my way down, I wasn’t prepared for the twists and turns that were up ahead.

Self-discovery is a beautiful thing unless you’re surrounded by people who already figured out who they are
And aren’t capable of understanding that everyone else’s tracks are different
And through my journey friends came and went,
Cause I didn’t think like other girls did
I racked by brain trying to thinking about what I was doing wrong.

When the track got bumpy all the people that I loved had left me
And I was left to rebuild whatever was left of my crumbling state of mind
And I dug through the foundation to design a new self-image to try and save what was left of my confidence.

And I finally listening to that nagging voice in the back of my head
That when I looked down at my chest I was uncomfortable with what I saw
And when I looked in the mirror I wanted so badly to shed this skin I was in,
And the dysphoria was already beginning to settle in.

I was in a fork in the rode where I had to decide if I wanted to keep living a lie or realize this is not the real me.
Adrianna Aarons Feb 2015
did my promise,
my sincerity,
feel good in your hands?
did it sit well
in your broken heart?

did my desperation,
my lovesickness,
sparkle in your eyes?
did it settle your
twisting stomach?

did my nervousness,
my helplessness,
melt your boarded-up
and frozen, broken heart?
did it make you blush?

did my desperateness,
my constant attempts,
warm your icy soul?
did it taste good
on your sly smile?

even though you’ve
lost another one of
your leads, you still
refuse to play that
you’re in love with me.
Adrianna Aarons Dec 2014
Meet me in a Carolina, love, let the silk of your lips greet me,
And without words you can tell me how much you missed me
I’ve been tossing and turning; Crying out for you while I’m sleeping and
Momma’s awful worried, love.

So I’ll catch my bus while you hop your flight
So you can meet me somewhere far away where the sky’s bright

And after all those falls you’ve taken,
I think you could use someone to hold you…
Love, I will gladly, happily, eagerly volunteer.
Adrianna Aarons Dec 2014
Sunrise & Sunset.
Land & Sea.

Flowers & weeds.
Full & Empty.

Alive & Dead.
Beautiful & Ugly.

Sweet & Bitter.

Poetry & Prose.

You & me.
Adrianna Aarons Jan 2015
Come back, so the sun can keep its light,
So life can keep its course.

Come back, so clouds can keep their height,
And oceans--their shores.
Adrianna Aarons Jan 2017
Dear three year old me
It isn’t that your daddy doesn’t want you, he just wants to drink more
This is not your fault, and it is not your mom’s fault either
Your daddy will regret his priorities someday, rest assured.

Dear ten year old me
Mom's new boyfriend doesn't have a bad side, quit waiting for him to leave
He is not going to
He loves you and this family

Dear fifteen year old me
When your boyfriend screams at you for the first time, get out of there
He is lying every time he says “I love you”
Do not stay with him, it will not get better

Dear eighteen year old me
Love is not found on the couches of cigarette stained strangers
He only wants one thing and you know it
You're better than this

Dear twenty year old me
We’ve really been through it this year huh?
All those little worries from your earlier years seem so irrelevant now

Dear twenty five year old me
I hope we make it
Adrianna Aarons Jan 2017
I never wrote grocery lists or dates and things
I never wrote my songs on paper, or memories
I just didn’t need to
Until I met you

While in a coffee shop I would have a surprise conversation
With a homeless man from Peru, or a security guard from Miami
And after every encounter I would pull out my phone
And write about the humor of it, the pain in it, or the realization from it

I wrote down the details so at the end of the day I could tell you the stories

After you left I still wrote down the stories because I wanted to be ready for when you came back
But when it became clear that you weren't, I stopped taking notes
And so every story is tucked away in my mind, forgotten
And now the only story that lingers is the story of you and me and how we came to be
Adrianna Aarons Jan 2017
Beloved, while you’re out searching for your only,
I am here waiting, hurting, cowering, crying and lonely.
There’s a monster under my bed, a devil in my closet,
A goblin sending me through an obstacle course, promising
That if I do all they ask I will make it out alright.
Beloved, I know that they are only telling lies.

Beloved, they’re begging for my secrets,
They want to know why I fell for you so easily, so willingly,
When we all know it’s something so unlike me.
And while they crawled under my skin and broke my will down
Like a tower of blocks, all I longed for was you by my side.
Beloved, I’ve never been so frightened in my life.

Beloved, your shadow won’t do much good here,
But if it’s all I can have of you right now, then I’ll hold it here.
It won’t ward off the monsters, the devils, the demons, or the goblins
And their terrifying ways, but if I hold it close enough to me
I can feel your heartbeat, your breath and lips across my face and I’m okay.
Beloved, I will fight till the death and make myself okay.
Adrianna Aarons Jan 2017
When I was just a little girl,
I asked my mother,
“What will I be?
Will I be pretty?
Will I be pretty?
Will I be pretty?
What comes next?
Oh right, will I be rich?”
Which is almost pretty depending on where you shop.
And the pretty question infects from conception,
passing blood and breath into cells.
The word hangs from our mothers’ hearts
in a shrill fluorescent floodlight of worry.
“Will I be wanted?
But puberty left me this fun house mirror dryad:
teeth set at science fiction angles,
crooked nose,
face donkey-long
and pox-marked where the hormones went finger-painting.
My poor mother.
“How could this happen?
You’ll have porcelain skin
as soon as we can see a dermatologist.
You ****** your thumb.
That’s why your teeth look like that!
You were hit in the face with a Frisbee when you were 6.
Otherwise your nose would have been just fine!
“Don’t worry.
We’ll get it fixed!”
She would say, grasping my face,
twisting it this way and that,
as if it were a cabbage she might buy.
But this is not about her.
Not her fault.
She, too, was raised to believe the greatest asset
she could bestow upon her awkward little girl was a marketable facade.
By 15, I was pickled with ointments,
medications, peroxides.
Teeth corralled into steel prongs.
My nose was never fixed.
Belly gorged on 2 pints of my blood I had swallowed under anesthesia,
and every convulsive twist of my gut like my body screaming at me from the inside out, “What did you let them do to you!”
All the while this never-ending chorus droning on and on, like the IV needle dripping liquid beauty into my blood. “Will I be pretty? Will I be pretty? Like my mother, unwrapping the gift wrap to reveal the bouquet of daughter her $10,000 bought her? Pretty? Pretty.”
And now, I have not seen my own face for 10 years. I have not seen my own face in 10 years, but this is not about me.
This is about the self-mutilating circus we have painted ourselves clowns in. About women who will prowl 30 stores in 6 malls to find the right cocktail dress, but haven’t a clue where to find fulfillment or how wear joy, wandering through life shackled to a shopping bag, beneath those 2 pretty syllables.
About men wallowing on bar stools, drearily practicing attraction and everyone who will drift home tonight, crest-fallen because not enough strangers found you suitably fuckable.
This, this is about my own some-day daughter. When you approach me, already stung-stayed with insecurity, begging, “Mom, will I be pretty? Will I be pretty?” I will wipe that question from your mouth like cheap lipstick and answer, “No! The word pretty is unworthy of everything you will be, and no child of mine will be contained in five letters.
“You will be pretty intelligent, pretty creative, pretty amazing. But you, will never be merely ‘pretty’.”
Adrianna Aarons Dec 2014
You can look at a puzzle
for hours and hours
and try to fit the pieces together
the way they should be,
but then you're gonna see a space
smack dab in the middle,
and you won't be able to find the piece
to complete the picture.
You and I have all the pieces,
we just chose the wrong time
to figure out the puzzle.
Adrianna Aarons Feb 2017
I know these winter days get you down,
and they make you feel cold.
Just remember that loving you,
and being loved by you,
will always be the warmest feeling I’ll ever have.
Adrianna Aarons Dec 2014
I think back to when everything was simple,
when he was alive and we were all whole
but then he broke us and we never fit back together.
Life used to be carefree
tentative smiles and excitement over coffee shops
and we all had so much potential
and drugs were the plastic bottles in our bathrooms,
taken with caution.
I think of how many friends I used to have,
and how everything has been superficial
since we all put ourselves in plastic boxes on unreachable shelves.
These days I have no motivation and I want to see the sun.
Happiness is as fleeting as the snow on the ground
before the wind sweeps it up high above the trees.
I used to be the snow, and I didn't care where I landed.
That's why I wasn't very surprised
when he took advantage of my innocence and unstable hold on reality.
But that doesn't mean that sometimes I don't still shudder
when people come near me,
or wonder if I look broken to them.
I remember his eyes,
as they ask for forgiveness,
and I didn't have the heart to tell him
that he had taken the last thing that meant anything to me,
or that he was the last straw when I made that fateful decision last year,
or that I STILL wake up gasping from having nightmares starring him,
or that he causes me to stay up late into the night feeling completely alone.
That he stole my already feeble ability to say
But I'm wiser now,
so I forgave him even though his arms felt like needle ****** when he hugged me.
Recovery is long,
and some might say I'm not recovered at all.
It's been a year but I still think about death every day.
I'm in love, but I hate myself every second I'm not with him.
But none of that matters,
because now I know that I will always choose pain over oblivion.
I've found a delicate balance that can be destroyed by one gust of wind,
but I'm trying to be better,
and that's more than I've ever been able to say.
I don't want to say that a song saved my life
but the song is his voice when he tells me he loves me,
and the screams in my head when I don't want to continue,
because at least I know I'm alive.
Sometimes I miss the people who have left me and the girl I used to be,
but it's over now,
and it's best not to dwell on things that I can never change.
Because recovery isn't the number of days passed,
but allowing time to heal you.
It's allowing yourself to feel better,
because only you can give yourself that permission.
It's learning to love yourself,
and to accept everything in stride.
But most of all,
recovery is forgiveness.
Forgiving others for what they've done to you,
but more importantly yourself,
in any condition,
the way the shore forgives the tide
which leaves
but always comes back for more,
because the ocean loves the sand more than we can comprehend,
and that's how we should all love ourselves:
unconditionally and during all weather.
Adrianna Aarons Feb 2017
Flowers are characterized by their petals,
A rose, however, is more than just it’s red petals.
Once the petals are removed from a rose,
destroying it’s outer shell,
the inside is visible to world
The rose is vulnerable,
But it is still beautiful
A new array of green and yellow colors
Thee only way to see what lies beneath is to destroy the petals.
The rose is much like a person
People put on masks
A person can become vulnerable and shed their mask. This sometimes destroys a person
Roses can’t grow their petals back once they have all been plucked off
A person can always recover
A rose cannot do anything but perish.
People are like roses, and roses are what people become if they don’t want to be built back up.
Adrianna Aarons Jan 2015
These shots of *****
don't make me feel nearly as warm
as being wrapped in your arms.
Adrianna Aarons Jan 2017
Sweetheart, shut up for two seconds so I can kiss you.
Let those words that mean so much wait a **** second or two,

See if they can stand the pain of waiting to come across your lips.
I feel like I’ve been waiting much too long for exactly this.

The ache in my core is much too hard to stand anymore.

Sweetheart, just shut the hell up for a moment so I can kiss you.
Leave the singing to the birds, love, let me do what I came here to.

I’d love to be the ink beneath your skin, just because I’d love to know
What it feels like to make you complete, to be a part of you.

There is a pain in my stomach from not being with you.

Sweetheart, please just shut up for a minute and let me kiss you.
Let those rants and raves take a little break and live my dreams with me.

So, God permit, if I shut up for two seconds will you kiss me?
Hold me closer and make me forget that this is reality?

I want to wake up from this lonely dream and find you next to me,
And I will shut up for a minute so you can kiss me.

The ache in my core will turn to clouds and I will soar.
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