I remember the first time I killed a girl. She loved me. I loved her.

I would hand her Xanax and cigarettes. One time she handed me her heart on a silver platter and seductively smirked whilst saying, "Dig in."

She then, unfortunately, was burdened with my child. We decided to purge my family tree. We did so faster than a gallon of Roundup kills a single dandelion. I had no desire to let my family tree grow, it is a horrid thing.

Soon after she was filled with grief. So then I killed her. I used my divine nonexistent influence to perform a task that she was oh so familiar with. I teleported from Albany to Long Island in a matter of seconds and hand fed her all her medications, then her mother heart medications along with all my own stock pile of pills I used for recreation. Her heart rate began to slow. She died. I laughed.

I now have two tear drops tattooed on my face.

It is never about the coffee.
It is never about forgetting to put the cap on the toothpaste.

What it is about is the affair you had while I was away.
We like to cover the big things up with the small.
We drape the elephant in the room with veils that are fights about my ****** parking job and lack of ***.

You will never be straight forward and simply tell me that I am not good enough.
You will never tell me that you hate my lazy demeanor or loath my entire side of the family.
What you will tell me is that I snore too noisily and that you get no sleep because of it.

I will never tell you that I know what you have done.
I will never tell you that I am actually sterile so the child we almost had was not mine.
I will however yell at you when the coffee is cold and when we are out of creamer.

But... it is never about the coffee my dear.

Cold winds
Stacked up snow layers
Watery nostrils
Freezing bones

Lazy eyes
Painful muscles
Snoozing alarms in cellphones
Inactive ears

Energy captured
And stored like rock salt
Crack it and crush it
And finally get it

Time to do work

I want my words to be beautiful.
Beautiful like yours.
I want to see ordinary things,
Find the magic in them,
And put the magic on a page, for everyone to understand.

I want to have a way with words.
I want every poem of mine
To become a masterpiece.
Just like yours.

I am not broken.

But you are.

You see the world through pain,
And pain makes the colors brighter.
It makes the value of feelings
Climb higher.

Sometimes I wonder
If I should be broken like you
If I want my words to resonate
Like yours.

Sometimes I wonder,
If it will be truly worth it
In the end.

I wonder what it will be like,
To cut myself up to pour out the beauty inside me.

Just like you.

I imagine that you
Raise the blade
Slice your feelings open
And write your masterpiece
In red.

Someday,
I would finally stop
writing about you.
Someday,
you won't have
that kind of power
over me anymore.

totally alone again
but for once,
that's okay--
i needed this time
to just pull away
to reflect and decide
who it is
i really want to be
and to find out too
if you'll even miss
that woman
i used to be...

doesn't really matter tho
for if there
is one certain thing
i most definitely know
it's that no one cares
as much as you think and hope
they do--
and least of all not those
who are the likes of you--

so never mind--
loneliness can be my new name
and all will work out fine
as i learn this new game
and i won't allow my heart
to fall for you
ever again
so keep on hopin'
(if you want)
-but-
*you will NOT win.