my beloved, i miss you.
i miss our time spent together,
miss the life you brought into my spirit.
darling,
don’t you miss how thin you were?
i told you that you didn’t want food—
carbs are bad, remember?—
and you were just so beautiful.
the etched lines of your ribs and collarbone,
carefully defined like charcoal on a watercolor painting.
lovely,
don’t you miss our late-night chats?
you told me everything you hated about yourself
and i just held you as you crumbled.
i’m sorry i couldn’t bring myself to console you but
honey,
your pain was just so beautiful...
i couldn’t tear myself away.
how can you not miss our alone time?
your isolation always kept me company—
until that one day.
you yelled at me,
shouted obscenities at me until you were crying,
but different tears than the ones you shared with me
late at night.
you relapsed into our old relationship,
again and again,
until that one day.
i heard you singing in the shower
for the first time since you were ten years old,
heard you open a bag of chips, eat the whole **** bag,
saw your mother embrace you while
tears fell down her face.
i saw you drive away with
that boy,
the one who kisses your scars
and tells you your past is a tragic beauty.
beloved,
i could’ve saved you.
don’t tell me you saved yourself.
we could’ve been just so beautiful.

                                                   forever yours,
                                                          ­  me<3

she feels the absence of anyone touching her,
imagines what it would be like to have
that pretty boy
touch his velvet lips to hers,
imagine what it would be like to feel
his magic rub off on her
to have his words
circulate in her head until she's drunk off his poetry.
she knows
this will never happen,
knows he will soon see into her abyssal soul
realize the cuts run deeper than the ones on her wrist,
realize her storm is
a bit too wild for him.

no amount of drugs
could have ****** me up as bad
as you did.

The flowers that blossom,
The flowers that die
That wake me up at night to remind me of my lies.

The people i killed
inside of my dreams
I stabbed through their backs
Regardless of the screams.

I thought it'd make me feel better,
The feeling didn’t last
I am now an uncertain part of my past.

The skeletons in my closet
Are long since dead,
But the days when they breathed are still alive in my head.

So this is my confession,
This is my plea.
But the voices within are consuming me.

The rain is relief
It washes away the tears,
But it threatens to drown me while confirming my fears-

That i am the monster my father assured me wasn’t under my bed,
I realize now i’m better off dead.

I've paid my dues and left my deposit,
I’m better off living with the skeletons in my closet.

i can’t get rid of you,
feel the ghost of your fingertips on every inch of my body,
smell your cologne on my pillow case,
the musky scent whispering its way into all my dreams,
which all seem to be about you.
i taste you on my lips,
over and over again my body rejects food
rejects anything that
doesn’t taste like you.
i hear your voice on an endless loop in my head,
both the beautiful lies you spun into me
and the abusive, muddy words
you hurled at me like knives.
but the worst,
the very worst,
is i still see you in everything,
everywhere,
in everything.
everyone.
you will never leave me,
won’t take yourself out of me,
out of my life.
you won’t leave me alone,
won’t let me move on and forgive myself.
i hate you enough to hate myself for loving you.

i wish i were an artist,
wish i could paint the way i’m feeling
as a beautiful sunrise
or an unimaginable storm.
i wish i knew how to illustrate without using words...
words are not reliable.

you will never be forgotten.
ever.
your name twisted into metaphors and colors and distractions will forever
be painted across pages and pages of her favorite brand of notebook,
no matter how many she burns
there will always be one she forgot,
and she will only find it once she had almost forgotten you.
she will find the one Papyrus notebook
and all of your metaphors and colors and disractions will come flooding back,
just like how the ocean in your eyes
flooded her heart all those years ago.

i am not his responsibility.
i am supposed to be strong.
i am supposed to be self-loving, independent.
i am not supposed to need him,
to yearn for his honey drenched words to shower over me
until my tears have dried.
it is not fair that he is my drug,
that i am more addicted to him than i could ever be
to anything else.
it scares me just how much
i can't live without him.

he's sitting right next to me
but i still feel his absence as if i'd never met him,
the wondering if my life could be made better by one person.
it rains all the time now,
now that we've been broken.
now that i've broken things.
now that you've broken me.
i can only say "i miss you" so many times,
but the ache inside me is so deep
i can't remember what it's like to be sunny.
i always thought heartbreak was overdramatic
but now i see
it has never been expressed enough-
no amount of lyrics,
poems
or advice could prepare me
for the pain of living without you.

time has healed
everything but the memories,
of which still spring up on me unexpectedly
through the radio playing your favorite song
or me seeing your eyes in every cerulean thing i look at.
the pain is still there,
but it's a bittersweet pain,
the kind that will never erase you from my life completely.
i never said i wanted to erase you from my life completely.
forgive my tears but
i'm moving on.

it's a good thing i don't share my writing with you
because if i did,
you'd see that
you
are the boy with the ocean eyes and
i
am not really okay.

noi eravamo giovani e bella,
molto vita avanti.
ricordo la prima volta ti ** visto,
e ero non impressionata.
ma i tuoi occhi,
cosi tanto blu,
cosi tanto blu.
abbiamo iniziato come amici,
ma l'estate era bella e
le tue parole li avevamo troppo dolce.
prima ** conosciuto
eri la mia ogni cosa.
il mio sole, le mie stelle, la mia luna.
il ragazzo con i cobalto occhi.

i waltzed at night
with my deepest fears,
soaking the air
with my salty tears.

what a glorious day
to fall apart,
seen the world through kaleidoscopes
at the tearing in my heart.

a valley of ominous
and secret minds alike
i feel the stable beat of my heart
spike.

the water pours on my body,
drowning me in despair.
i lived for love
but sadly, love is no longer there.

so the colors muddle together,
a montone grey paints the scene.
the skeleton bones of my heart
have long since been pristine.

as the concrete walls close in on me,
once and for all,
i just can't believe
i ever let myself fall.

the universe's tendency to fall apart,
but you are my universe
...so i guess it makes sense.

hi, welcome to our world,
you must be new.
i'm sure it sounds exciting;
but let me explain something to you.
you're a girl so
things are a bit more tough.
things are hard when nobody listens
when you say "enough is enough."
it's almost like you can't say no--
wait, that's not it.
it's more that when you say that word
they still don't quit.
opinions run rampant--
nothing you ever do or say will satisfy them.
"them" being not only girls tearing each other apart,
it's also men.
this idea of "them" is that you're being attacked,
physically, verbally... it doesn't matter.
they say you have too much makeup,
your stomach should be flatter.
and then it's the clothes...
you wear too much and you're a *****,
too little and you're a ***,
might as well be ****.
like to flirt?
too bad, you put out.
like to keep to yourself?
you're a *****, no doubt.
there's no such thing as winning,
in our society today.
but please, have fun!
enjoy your stay.

1) I would die without music. I mean really die. The melancholy moodiness of the melodies and the angsty alluring allusions to love... they get me every time.
2) I love the smell of roses; the idea of a natural perfume is beautiful. The way that it was only ever touched by the fingers of Mother Nature is a foreign concept to our man-made world.
3) I don't believe he emanated sunshine, but more, he released a kind of comfortable sadness that I grew to be quite fond of, the kind of sadness that will keep you company on a rainy Sunday.

it's weird to think of him in past tense,
something that's usually "is" has become "was,"
i am in love with him
should be
i was in love with him
even though, past tense doesn't apply to all my feelings.
i am in love with him
is still
i am in love with him.

i told my therapist about you,
not because you ******* me up
(well, that too)
but because i can't not talk about you,
because i love the way your name tastes on my tongue,
because the words i spin almost conjure you into existence.
she asked why i brought you up,
she asked what your importance was to me and i said
he is my happiness.
she frowned,
slightly shook her head,
and told me that i should not like
the way your name tastes on my tongue.

i don't know what's worse-
the agony of holding on
or the agony of letting go.

she wore her sadness like a cape,
                                                           ­ her audacity like a veil.

she knew that in his eyes,
                                                           ­ she'd never be his grail.

so she spun her crown of misery
                                                          ­  and disassembled her throne,

and went in search of herself
                                                         ­   for her new heart is her home.

and to this day she's never looked behind;
                                                         ­   he is simply a part of her past.

because now she knows when things are wrong,
                                                          ­  they are never built to last.

my days are too long,
my mind and heart are tired.
any will or hope to keep pushing
has long since expired.

sometimes i don't recognize the girl staring back at me in the mirror,
all messy hair and dark trails of black staining her rosy cheeks.
that chin quiver,
a permanent crease below my bottom lip
from that godforsaken chin quiver.
it's true;
i'm sure you've never seen the waterfall pour out of my eyes,
never seen my shaking shoulders
and my heart beating too fast
and the fingernail half-moons dug into my arms to try and regain control.
i'm sure you can't see the internal bruises on my lungs from
never being able to breathe freely
or maybe you've seen the bleeding puncture on my tongue
from never saying what i want to,
what i need to.
call me weak,
i don't care.
it's not my fault that my heart
feels so **** heavy.

i overlooked the red in your rage,
the orange in your fiery words.
i saw past the yellow lights flashing from your skin,
WARNING, WARNING they had said,
but i didn't listen.
i pretended i couldn't see the green in your eyes that always gave way to jealousy,
the blue in your endless pool of sadness that i could never staunch.
towards the end i couldn't even see the indigo in the sky as we danced under starts for the last time,
or when you wore the violet shirt i bought you for your birthday last year.
all i could see was the white in your lie
when you promised forever.

we were dancing on the moon
twisting our ankles in the craters
and what i didn't realize then,
but did much later

is that your eyes were the color
of the obsidian sky around
and when i promised i wouldn't find a boy like you
i found

you, of course,
the sun in my storm.
i promised you that you'd regret asking
why i looked so forlorn.

because you started a fire
that now will not die,
despite all my pleading
the amount  of times i've cried.

because the galaxy weeps for us,
and our twisted feet
i told you the galaxy cries;
the galaxy weeps.

i never break promises,
that is, until i met you.
"i promise i won't fall in love with you,"
but the words tumbled out of my mouth before i really considered them,
before i realized what i would do for a boy that treats me like gold,
a boy like you.
i'm sorry i broke my promise, darling;
it was never my intent.

it's just that sometimes when your name shows up on my phone
i get too excited
and whenever i think of the word blue
i think of your eyes
and whenever i read those dumb paragraphs on instagram
i firstly think of you
and so i guess i'm over you in a way that means
i'm so
totally
not.

when life finally quiets down
i hope you don’t think of me
as white noise

i
am
trying.

sometimes i just feel like the words clot in my veins and the ink is spilled on my soul and my heart is ripped like the pages of my favorite notebook. my lips are the cracked leather cover from too many forced smiles and the light in my eyes is only the artificial light bulb i use at 3am so i can see what i'm writing. my verses are as repetitive as my endless reassurances, condolences, apologies. mother, i have nothing to be sorry for. my limbs are stiff like the spines of all those bound books i asked for for christmas, sitting somewhere in my room as a heap. i said i wanted to be a writer; i did not want to become my writing.

it's funny;
i didn't remember what it was like to be young,
i mean,
i'm young now but
i guess what i mean is happy.
i don't remember what it's like to be happy.

my infinite happiness,
endless source of despair.
my worst nightmare and
my favorite fairy tale.

look at me.
look how fragile i seem on the outside.
look at my mahogany eyes,
my walnut hair streaked with the sun's rays.
my kind smile, fair skin.
i look innocent, don't i?
i look harmless, right?
i can break easily?
no.
my heart is made of steel,
only growing stronger each time i let someone in that betrays me.
my soul is cut out of the strongest, hardest
diamond out there,
but it is equal parts obsidian and milky opal.
i can throw a punch that would surprise a grown man;
hear my roar from within.
i may look like a lady-
act like one, too,
but i am stronger than i look.
i have been knocked down more times than i can count,
and i have picked myself up each time,
becoming smarter, stronger, more experienced.
i will not change for you,
dress for you,
sugarcoat for you.
but you know what i will do?
surprise you.
i will always surprise you.

he is a map of constellations in my mind,
shining brighter than the North Star
and more superior than the entire Milky Way.
boy, you are
my entire universe.

i'm sorry i seem weak to you.
i'm sorry you're not used to swimming in my brash words,
my confidence in myself.
i'm sorry you're intimidated by me,
by my successes and dreams for a future you're not included in.
i'm sorry you couldn't see me for the beautiful person i am;
i'm sorry you didn't learn earlier that i do not tolerate abuse.
but mostly i apologize to myself
for putting my body through the kind of pain it went through,
the kind of pain i called loving you.

he told me that my voice sounded like the chiming of church bells,
hauntingly beautiful and sure.
he told me that i tasted like the skin of a grapefruit,
sweet then sour
not long before i became tough.
i never knew what to make of that.
he told me that i felt like a rose petal,
soft and delicate
fragile enough to rip with the twisting of fingers
but strong enough to make it through the storm.
and through everything
i thought it was love,
i thought he took my breath away
but really i was suffocating on his empty words.
what i never told him
but will now,
is that
church bells scare me
i hate grapefruit
and i am stronger than a flower,
strong enough to survive the storm
that was him.

i used to dream in black and white,
grays blending together the scenes that
spin spin spin
until i can't differentiate black from white.
i dreamt about shriveling flowers and endless hallways
and never being able to scream;
and then i met you.
suddenly i was dreaming in color,
a luxury i thought would never come to fruition,
flowers popping and life breathed back into trees.
i never knew how beautiful it was to have someone hold you at 3am,
to kiss your bruises and tell you your scars are angelic
even though the way you acquired them isn't.
i never knew how beautiful it was
to dream in color.

my heart has turned dark,
blood frigid in my veins.
my mind was never so convoluted,
thoughts so dark.
i used to be a different girl, and to be honest,
i miss her.

and when the fingers of age
grace her face,
for it does not matter-
i'll love her the same.

when her chestnut ringlets
turn to silver strings,
for i don't mind-
i'll still be her king.

so i'll love you true,
through and through,
i swear till i'm blue-
it's always you.

you and me till the end of time,
from the day i promised, fingers entwined,
that i am yours
and you are mine,
my bride, my pride,
till the end of time.

autumn tinges the world an earthly orange
as the leaves fall at a lazy pace,
littering the ground with the only litter this world should allow.
a shooting star falls from the sky
showering us with bits of moonlight
and age-old stars,
glimmering with what used to be.
i,
for you,
i fall for you with the audacity of a best friend
no holding back and nothing to break my fall.
when it comes to the art of falling
i can only pray to God you'll be there to catch me.

i was scared for a while
when i thought i lost my words,
the once endless monologue slowing to a trickle
until
...nothing.
no poetry, no words,
no stanzas pushing at my lips and itching my fingers
to be released.
i thought, "if i've lost my poetry, what am i?"

i guess i have a thing for blonde hair, blue eyes
something about the way i fall into the ocean
of those two heartbreakers,
the way they contrast his light hair.
but i never guessed that i could fall in and drown,
my lungs screaming for air,
while i tell them to please shush so i can hear him speak.
sacrificing myself for a boy who doesn't even want me.

as the fighting ensues
i seek refuge
in the comfort of the clicking of my keyboard.

as my life unravels
i wish to travel--
honestly, anywhere but here.

i'm grateful that i'm able to write again,
i had missed the gliding of the pen,
writing out everything i forget to feel.

but when the clock strikes twelve
i could no longer delve
into the beautiful world that is my imagination.

i've written you in and out of all my poems,
every single part of you expressed in each of my delicately placed words.
but it's not enough.
it's never enough.
i have an insatiable hunger to let the world know how i feel,
not just about you,
but i guess, sort of, about everything.
i've learned that it's easier to just write about your eyes.

somehow;
all this time later, i'm still dreaming about you
i'm still writing about you,
still pining after you.

and when i feel lonely i don't know what to do,
so i think about you,
i still think about you.

and while you don't even know...
but maybe you do?
i think that you do,
you know i care about you.

but what you may not know,
well if you read this you do.
i'll never be over you;
i'm still in love with you.

and i guess i should just say that
even though we are through,
it's always been you;
it'll always be you.

my mind burns
as your name is branded on the delicate tissue
once,
twice,
my tongue is sour
with the absence
of you.

don’t let them tell you your eyes are ordinary.
darling,
they are anything but.
your eyes are honey as it blends with liquid copper,
hardening when you feel the pain of the world
but melting when you look at him.
they are the smell of the earth right before a thunderstorm,
hard packed soil and dusty fingerprints.
they are mahogany oak
as the lightning cracks a tree in half
and the rings are exposed for the world to see.
those orbs are the sleek finish on a violin,
its chords slicing through empty air with notes brimming with emotion,
emotions that’s reflected in your eyes.
it’s all reflected in your eyes
so don’t you dare let them tell you
your eyes are ordinary.
they are anything but.

you promised never to make me cry;
promised never to say goodbye.
you stared me down with eyes so blue
and painfully said, "i bid you ado."

and i thought at night that you'd come home
but as i sat, compulsively, checking my phone
i realized- it's true, you're finally gone,
tired of singing my sad broken song.

so i turned to the bottle to wash down my pain,
but it didn't succeed in numbing my brain.
when i closed my eyes i only saw you,
staring me down with eyes so blue.

i used to think
the sparks were fireworks,
when really,
it was metal against metal
screeching, screaming
until the whole thing
finally
came to a grinding halt.
[acb]