As I doodled a star onto you
You looked at me and smiled,
And suddenly I felt this little ink star inadequate
Because you had a galaxy
Already in your eyes

With these flowers between us I cannot see your face
And with this table separating us I cannot feel your heart beat.
The flowers give off a sickly smell,
One that implies they are dying.
But both of us ignore them,
Because we too, are dying.

There is nothing between us now
But I still cannot see your face,
My face is in the crook of your shoulder
As we dance achingly slowly around the kitchen;
This death defying dance is no longer about living,
Now it’s more about not dying

In our moonlight waltz we fall into unharmonious synchronization
Our steps taken prisoner by the serenading stars,
Following the beat of the comet-streaked sky.  
His heartbeat matches the pace of our dance and
He twirls me to the tune of his truths that hurt more
Than his lies.

We tango through the house,
Our feet stepping on the cursed mirror shards
That show all we used to be,
When the flowers did not smell sickly,
But had the intoxicating aroma of life.
What stupid flowers.

He dips me into the bed we used to share
I grip onto him for dear life.
Our feet are bloodied, leaving marks all around.
I was the one who taught him this dance in the first place.
This foxtrot of lies and self-doubt and tears,
He always was a better follower than leader.

Around again and again
We wear trenches in the hallways and
Forts in the kitchen.
One of us knocks over the table, such a little misstep,
But the flowers in their vase fall, shattering everywhere.
You don’t have a heartbeat anymore.

Today you said you were perfect
And, I know you were joking, but I couldn’t stop wondering:
How could you be so perfect with so many scars?
But then I realized.
The scars, the marks, the pain,
That’s what makes you beautiful.
Not perfect,
But so close to it, the line starts to blur.
Everything you’ve admitted to me,
Every time you let your soul bleed out to me,
I see you,
Not the ‘perfect’ you,
But the beautiful you.
The you who has endured so, so much.
The you who doesn’t paint on a smile,
The you that stands there,
And bears the unbearable with me.
The you who holds up my sky for me even as my world shatters.

So maybe you aren’t perfect,
Maybe your chipped tooth smile and your splintered heart
Are showcased in glass to the world,
And maybe the scars you’ve shown me still bleed,
But maybe,
You’re beautiful to me.

to those of you who have been wondering where i went--
i'm sorry i disappeared.
i write when i feel too many emotions,
and lately i haven't felt much of those.

She spat the word ‘pity’ out, as if it burns her tongue.
She wouldn’t look at him as she scraped poison from her pretty lips.
Her nails dug into her thighs until ****** half-moons appeared.
She knew she was hurting him to hurt herself, but she couldn’t stop.
Insults flew from her mouth like a double edged sword.
And as she stood over the grave, she too died slowly.

I said so much that night
Drunk off what I couldn’t have
But unsaid words still hung- hang- out of mouth
Secrets that beg to whispered
To an ear I know will listen
And a heart so closely guarded that
Its open

How do I say what my mouth cannot form?
Or do you already understand me?
You say you know me inside and out
So I just have to pray-
To a god I don’t believe exists-
That you know everything

In my head I’m on my knees
Hands over my ears
Trying to block the voices in my head
From yelling,
From screaming at me.

But you can’t block out voices that are within,
So they continue this racket of torture
This monumental mass of self destruction
“You’ll never be good enough!”
“You can’t do this!”
Their voices hoarse from yelling at me
Because they do it all the time.
And I want to give up, oh god, I want to give up.

I’m spiraling down down down
Into a sea of my own creation,
Made of tears and regret and wasted hope
I don’t know how much longer I can stay on my knees
Praying to a god I don’t think exists.
Trying to halt what cannot be stopped
Just like you can’t stop a heart from breaking.

“Nothing is wrong with the educational system”
They say
But how can that be true
When there are countless other kids
Just like me?
Losing themselves to numbers, to statistics, to tests, to homework
Never knowing how to breath,
Because the weight of school bears down on them
Like Atlas, they try to hold the world.
But no one can hold the world,
And so they’re crushed under it.

Just like I am crushed by these voices.