You told me to stay, but I'm cold and you're on the verge of passing out. I wish I could have called you last night when I was crying, but I couldn't seem to find your number. Baby, you were the best cup of coffee I've ever had, but I was your 8th shot of whiskey. But that's the kind of thing you're into and I know I'm not. And you say I'm too smart for you, but you don't realize how intelligently you put it. And I may be a well-running Volkswagon, but you're a shiny, new Mustang. And I may be good, but you're better. So what I'm trying to say is: we may not be good together, but I think I might love you. But like I said: I'm cold and you're on the verge of passing out.



So I'm taking your jacket and leaving

what's up?                                                      

                                                                                                                 I love you
          
no you don't        

                                                  ­                                                                 ­  yes I do
                                                              ­                I love you more than the stars
                                                           ­                         in the sky. I love you more
                                                                ­                than the drops in the ocean. I
                                                               ­               love you more than the words
                                                           ­                         in my favorite book. I love
                                                                ­                you more than the flowers in
                                                                ­                  a meadow. I love you more
                                                                ­                  than the hairs on my head. I
                                                                ­               love you more than the times
                                                           ­                         I've kissed you. I love you
                                                                ­                              more than the times I
                                                                ­                WANTED to kiss you. I love
                                                                ­                     you more than anything. I
                                                               ­                 have an endless love for you

                                                            ­                             Message Canceled

                                                    ­                                             you're right, I don't

My friend today passed by the place where her best friend crashed
"Hi" she said as she passed by
She laughed but I could hear the tears in her voice
She missed him more than anything

So you can understand my anxiety when you told me tonight that you crashed your car
"I'm fine" you said when you called me
You laughed but I could hear the anger in your voice




I would have missed you more than anything

you used to tell me that death was nothing to fear
but that's not true
and it's not actual death that I'm afraid of  though
it's what happens afterwards

where will I go?
what will happen to my spirit?
will there be a heaven waiting for me?
or am I destine to sit in eternal darkness?

I like to imagine that we all become stars
shining down on the earth
and guiding our loved ones through the forest
looking down on everyone and smiling because you know they admire you

I also think a lot about what will happen to me physically
I mean, I know that I will decompose
but what will happen after that?

I like to believe that flowers will sprout from my remains
covering the ground in beauty and joy
people will look at my garden and know I was loved

some might not be as lucky though
weeds might grow from them
they're poison will cover the ground and create landfills
they're toxins will spread into the hearts of everyone that sees their grave

it doesn't matter what happens once your dead though
what matters is what happens when your alive
and maybe that's what I'm most terrified of
that what I do while I'm living won't get me stars or flowers

maybe I'll leave scars and be destine to have a poisoned grave
the few who come to my funeral will spit to the ground
hoping that my soul will still be there to feel it
hoping that I live in eternal darkness

so the next time you tell me that death in nothing to fear
I will simply laugh
and reply with 4 words
"you're right, life is"

The first time I saw you, you were eating candy
Which is ironic because you couldn't have been less sweet
The more I think about it,
The more I realize that you must have been eating sour patch kids
First they're sour
Then they're sweet
Then you so full of regret because you knew it wasn't good for you

The first time I talked to you, you told me I was beautiful
Which was pointless because clearly I wasn't as beautiful as her
I noticed you had an every-changing taste in candy
You must have also had an ever-changing taste in girls

You must have been full of jaw-breakers when I kissed you
Because you made mouth ache
Or maybe it was from the endless yelling
Nights I flossed with cotton candy
Wishing it would cause my teeth to rot and fall out
So I never had to speak to you again

But the truth is you were my candy
Rotting me from the inside out
And yet I thought you were so sweet
How could something so delicious be so bad for you?

You're still my guilty pleasure
I still sneak down at midnight to have a taste of you
You still melt in my mouth
Spreading addicting poison through my body
Giving me a sugar high
Making me think everything is sweet
Then letting me crash

You let me crash

Just like a candy man, you make me sick if I have too much

'Feminism'
A word poisoned with stereotypes
A noun sprinkled with hate
A collection of letters looked at as a curse

We are taught at a very young age how society works
Where men and women stand
Men are meant to climb the social ladder to the highest point
While women 'stay in the kitchen'

A sentence thrown around like an old baseball
A constellation of words that has been whipped at women since the beginning of time
Have you ever been hit by a ball?
It stings
Guess what
So do those words

Susan B. Anthony fought long and hard to get women equal rights
Susan B. Anthony did not fight long and hard for women to be accused for wearing a skirt that is too short

Elizabeth Blackwell became a doctor to prove that women can  do any job a man can do
Elizabeth Blackwell did not become a doctor to get paid less than a man for doing the same job

Judy Chicago wrote a book on feminism to create a movement
Judy Chicago did not write a book on feminism to have feminists looked at like criminals

We do not belong in the kitchen
We belong exactly where men belong
Right next to them
Wherever they may be

We are not creatures
We are not servants
We are not your cat so please stop calling at us like we are one on the street

We are women
We are strong
We are brave
We feel
We hurt
Have you noticed that men are all those things too?
We are equals

Dear Friend,
It's been a long time since we last talked
I just wanted you to know I'm trying
Did you hear that?
I'm trying
I'm trying so hard you lousy *****
I'm trying because you told me I wasn't
But you've probably forgotten that, haven't you?
But friend, you'll never know how those words felt
Like ice and salt pressed to my skin until they left a scar
A scar that always screams to me I'm not trying hard enough
Because I always wanted to be good enough for you
I always wanted to be perfect enough for you
I always wanted to be enough
For you
But writing this letter I realize I never will be
Because you probably won't even read this
Maybe if I wrote this in my own ******* blood would you pay attention
Because then you'd know it's from the heart
But no, you'll just continue to talk about yourself
Your problems
Your life
You, you, you, you, you
But that's not good enough
And maybe I'm not the one not trying hard enough
Maybe it's you
Maybe you're not trying hard enough to be a decent person
Now the tables have turned
So I'll say it one last time
Dear Friend,
I now wonder what those 6 little letters mean when I write them down on paper
Is it possible I'm not trying hard enough to understand them?

I was different from the other girls
he told me
"classically weird"
But he lied

Perhaps it's because --------------------- s he -
-----------------------------------------------------------
---­------------------- seemed like a ------ star to
-----------------------------------------------------------
--­---------------------------------------------------------
-------­-------------------- an old soul --------------
--------------------------------------------------­---------

The heater still rattles
With the bobby pin I dropped in there while kissing you
And every time I hear it, it creates a new beat
A stronger one
A louder one
A beat that yells to me "You'll never forget him"

The heater seems to produce the smell of your cologne
During late nights when I miss you
The smell that made my stomach flop
The smell that still peppered my skin once you left
A smell that shouts "You still love him"

The heater still has a dent
From all the times we sat on it
And that causes the air to blow into my face
And dry my tears late at night
Just like you did
Tears that howl "He was-no scratch that-IS perfect"

The heater still has a scuff on it
From the morning you threw your she at it because it stopped working
And it produced warmer air after that
Almost as warm as you
Before you left
Now the air is cold
A cold that screeches "He was your everything"

And the heater still has your jacket on it
Because I can't bear to move it
And in the early mornings I put it on
And drink a cup of coffee
Like I did with you
By the heater
A heater that screams "Maybe he still loves you"

Did you even want to see me this morning?
Or should I have disappeared?
Like the moon
Making way for the sun and all his shining glory

But the moon and sun were once in love
But then the sun would leave at night
And come back in the morning smelling of cheap perfume and liquor
And the moon would escape into the dark
To dry her tears

And I will do the same
I will dry my tears as you burn a new victim
And late at night I will cry alone
I will cry shooting stars and wish upon them that you will come back
But you won't
We will simply orbit without ever catching a glimpse of each other
And you will be content
I will not
Because you are left with light
And I am forced to face the dark

I love you more than music
And that's saying a lot considering music literally controls my life
Every breath, every step is to a beat
But now the only beat I listen to is your heart
When I'm pressed to your chest
Late nights I spent where the only soundtrack was our breathing

You see you've become my music

2 hours and 20 minutes until I get to see you
And with each passing minute my stomach grows tighter
My palms sweat more
All I can think about is you
You're beautiful, you know that?
You're more than beautiful
You're perfect
******* for being perfect

1 hour and 30 minutes until I get to see you
My throat has become dry
My fingers won't stop twitching
As I've sat here more I can't help but count all the ways that I admire you
There are too many that I need all my fingers and toes
And even then it still wasn't enough
I would list them, but you wouldn't see them
******* for not seeing them

30 minutes until I get to see you
I've become a stuttering mess
My breathing has become so fast
I've already left the house and every scene reminds me of you
Because every scene is beautiful
Just like you
And you? Oh, you're probably fine right now
Cool and confident
******* for being cool and confident

0 minutes until I get to see you
My heart has dropped to my stomach
My excitement gone
I waited here for half an hour
And you never showed up
You never showed up
You never showed up
******* for not showing up

I can not see my hand in front of me
It's being swallowed by darkness
And maybe that's a good thing
Because the dark can hide scars better than any long-sleeve can

And that's why I love it so much
Because I never have to look at those horrifying lines at night
Those purple-pink scratches that have formed a moat around my wrist
But the thing about this moat is that it is too good at keeping the dragons out
Fire-breathing thoughts that storm into my castle

And don't they understand why I wear bracelets?
Apparently not because they ask me far too often
And I always have the same answer
Invisibility
Because it's the truth
These bracelets hide battle wounds better than metal armor
Because these bracelets are my armor
And these razors in my drawer are swords that are more familiar than the back of my hand

And yet, nobody ever notices
They never notice when I wear sweaters in 70° weather
Nobody notices the days I fidget with my sleeves because they aren't long enough
Because nobody ever pays attention to the sad girl
Nobody, except her razors

As I lie awake at night I can’t help, but think
Think of all the things that person said to me
Think of all the ways I’ve embarrassed myself
Think of all the things I said to that boy
While he wasn’t giving me a second of his time

I didn’t ask for this
I didn’t ask for these thoughts to run through my head
All these ‘What if’s and ‘No, not that’s
I didn’t ask to get chocked up every time I talk to someone because I’m afraid I might say something I might regret.
And yet, that seems to be every word that tumbles from my mouth
Like a faucet full of remorse that can not be shut off

Watching other people I can only seem to hate them as I pray to some sort of all-powering being that I will be able to over-come this
That one day I will be able to freely roll words off of my tongue without wishing I could gobble them back up.
And yet everyone else is able to do it
They are all able to say what they want
To express their opinions with no second thoughts
With no worries that someone might disagree

Every morning is a struggle just to pry myself from my sheets
To face every day with a smile
Because lately even picking out a outfit I find exceptable seems torturous
And then half way through first period I decide I shouldn’t have worn it

And there’s no escape
I always have this weight on my shoulder that is weighed down with nasty words my brain has formed
Picking at the slivers of self-confidence I have left.
Like a hungry Vulture cleaning up scraps on the side of the road

And some people have to power to fix it
They become stronger
And learn how to be better
And I? I lie awake at night. And I can’t help but think