baby the shears are not mine to use;
i don't care who inevitably severs our ties
but i will flinch, i will quiver
you will see me alone in the hallways as a wilted flower,
frozen in place like the first freeze of November,
you will see the grey memories left over in my eyes--
the sound of the barking dog
and the lyrics to my favorite song
and the words my poetry shouts,
the ones i am too afraid to whisper.
my lips are red raw,
tongue bleeding the love i feel too much of--
it was my everything
i gave you my everything...
you are my everything.
and what you had left is what i had left,
was always more than enough for me
you are still more than enough for me
i'm just sorry
your little sad girl
didn't have anything left to give.
-a.c.b

she thought she knew what she wanted.
oh foolish girl,
she just wanted the love,
the attention
that accompanied his words,
her own responses trickling down her chin
until she realized
this wasn’t her.
since when had she let
a boy’s disrespect get her down?
let his words bully her into becoming someone she’s not?
foolish girl, i don’t care
just how much you are in need of a partner.
he is not the one.

you may think i look like a dream
but baby you're the best one i've ever had.
-a.c.b

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.

with every
breath you
take i
wonder
how can
someone so
beautiful
be so
sad?

we are all but the same,
a cacophony of liars pretending
we are special, we are different,
false sentiments echoing through
cavernous laboratories
where a trail of clones in white jackets listen to
Miss Boss Lady
but how is she any different?
her skin, her voice, her features--
all a jumble of the same DNA she preaches about
but what about the face of a nation,
slammed for making the hard decisions
no one else will?
how is he any different
than his self-righteous opposers,
opinions put on a pedestal
that can only be read by someone on a high horse?
how about the middle-aged mom who
decides any opposition,
any challenging of beliefs from her son is disrespectful?
is she really “in charge?”
is he really being “disrespectful?”
only a society so unmotivated by the Human Condition,
a cacophony of liars,
would think they were anything different.
-a.c.b

it's not something i can exactly pinpoint,
but more the fact that
in a stadium full of 500 screaming peers,
i've never felt more alone.
even making brief eye contact with you, smiling,
then looking away
didn't alleviate the pain ebbing through me now.
it's not something i can exactly put my finger on,
but more the fact that
you were standing so close to her,
talking, laughing
while i stood rows below
loneliness wrapped around me,
even as my friends stood next to me, shoulder to shoulder.
i know you're not mine,
but you're not the only one who gets a little jealous.
it's not something i can exactly pinpoint,
but more the fact that
it's a little too dark tonight.
-a.c.b

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.

when you saw me in the halls today
i’m sure i looked happy.


that is how good i am at lying.
-a.c.b

my therapist told me that
i gravitate towards
the broken ones,
the ones who often
anchor their sinking ship to mine,
not even stopping to think that
they might take me down
with them.
she tells me it shouldn’t be this way,
that there’s a difference between
lending a helpful hand and
selling my soul to help
a boy i barely know.
but the truth is,
i don’t know how
to stop,
don’t know what it’s like to
help someone
without expecting the inevitable pain
at the end.
-a.c.b

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 when i think i'm getting better that
i realize i'm not.
-a.c.b

i wouldn’t say i’m cynical,
just a realist.
-a.c.b

one moment i'm on top of the world,
love filling my chest and
floating up my throat until all i can speak is poetry,
rose petal words twisting in the air in front of me,
swirling and twirling until they come to a rest at my feet,
and i think, "oh boy. what a time to be alive."
and then the next i've crash-landed,
my aircraft a mangled mess sitting beside me,
the tears pouring down my cheeks like i was made to cry.
these are the times when i realize i've pushed everyone
away away away
and i realize i've even lost the ones
i spent too much time deciding on.
it turns out they all move on eventually,
even when they promise to be your home.
i didn't even know i wanted you
until you left.

oh how i wish i could write words
half as beautiful as you are, my darling
the way your eyes sparkle when you speak of what you love,
the way i get drunk off the taste of your smile.
my love you are soft,
soft like the sheets we are tangled in, i know
you see me as a daydream but you are the best one i’ve ever had.

sorry to bother you but
my belly kind of hurts,
i think it's because i miss you a little
(or a lot)
and i pinky promise
i'm only using the seventh Weasley brother as a distraction.
sweetheart,
do you remember the lovely boy
i met a while ago?
he looks exactly like you but
my love, his eyes shined brighter.
...how could i have let him get away?

it’s at night i feel the most alone,
when my insecurities come out to play
and the only light
is coming from the flickering lightbulb
beside my bed.
you see, this is why
i time stamp all my poems written after 11pm, because i know after that
is entering
the Lonely Hours, as i call them
and anything i write then
should be taken with a grain of salt.
it’s not on purpose,
it’s just because i know myself
and i know
the Lonely Hours will always come.
-a.c.b

i sit down in bed and the clock reads 10,
i smile and uncap my ballpoint pen.
and with words that flow like the love through my veins
i try to unleash my words from their chains.

i dreamt of a prince, honest and true
i gave up my dream and then i met you.
like beauty i've seen only in the stars
i quickly got swept up in all that you are.

he says i'm his everything, the air that he breathes
agreed that we both bring the other to their knees.
he says i'm his siren, irresistible yet cruel
the way my words have taken him down like each previous fool.

his words are like honey and i'm drunk off the taste,
every moment near his lips- one i never want to waste.
but with words that flow like the love through our veins
i've succeeded in unleashing my words from their chains.
-a.c.b

not only is the farm abandoned
but all the sheep are dead.
the sugarplums dance on their graves
instead of twirling in my head.
smiles are nonexistent
nobody has a clue
of the million tons of *******
others may be going through.
my brain is being clouded
by all your negative words;
i’ve stopped saying hello to him
despite how much it hurts.
if he is the train
then i am strapped to the tracks,
begging myself to push forward
and never look back.
but my heart gives in,
it’s an endless cycle
of each time promising myself
i won’t reconcile.
but one look at his eyes
or golden curly hair,
and i’ve already started writing him
words beyond compare.
so if he is the farmer
then i am the sheep,
abandoned and killed
for my lack of sleep.

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'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.

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.

my depression keeps me company
when you are not here,
words like acetone sunrises
and the taste of broken glass,
it’s kind of like
falling in love with death,
if you’ve ever been so unlucky.
his arms hold me strong-
like yours-
but his grip is tight, vise-like
doors of melancholy barred shut by self- loathing,
and just a dash of intrigue,
almost like i keep forgetting what it’s like
to cry myself a wasteland of tears.
he keeps me company when you are not here,
words like sharpened daggers
and the smearing of blood against ivory skin
it’s kind of like
watching the burning of a silent masterpiece.
i am the silent masterpiece
and baby i am burning.
-a.c.b

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.

to the boy who brought me flowers on a random thursday morning,
i thank you.
they are sunset orange
like my favorite shirt of yours,
the one that's a little long in the arms
and cradles me like i'm about to break.
there were small fuchsia ones, too--
some half-bloomed
some not yet
some completely opened up,
beautiful petals unfurling like
they forgot they'd ever been closed.
...sound familiar?

to the boy who brought me flowers on a random thursday morning,
i adore you.
the thought of a boy who likes me enough
to sit down and handcraft me a bouquet of flowers just because he knows it'll make me happy
is one thing,
but to have that boy be you
is something completely different.
appreciation like i've never felt before--
you never leave me wondering
if the feelings are really there.

to the boy who brought me flowers on a random thursday morning,
i love you.
thank you for showing me the beauty
in being treated right.
-a.c.b

i’m sick of how twisted these words are
as they float around in my brain,
two people telling me
two different things and
it’s not like i wanted to get involved with you it’s just
maybe i kinda wanted to get involved with you
but now it doesn’t matter,
none of it matters,
because once again i’ve broken my own heart
before it even had the chance to fall.

i don’t sleep
in a black lacy bra and ***** shorts
with the perfect messy bun and
smoky eyeshadow
but instead,
usually a pair of old shorts
and a baggy t-shirt of my dad’s,
my hair hanging straight
over my shoulders.
you may think i’ve got
great style
when you see me at school,
with my thick dark lashes
and glossy lips
and hair styled back,
but as soon as i get home
the sweats are pulled on
right after the glasses are.
my cheery smile
replaced by a passive face,
usually worse,
and a notebook and pen
already finding themselves
in my hands.
gone is the girl
with the flirty attitude and skinny jeans.
the Real Me lies in wait
for somebody to see past
skin deep.
-a.c.b

with every last drop of ink
i would spell out your beauty like the stars,
i would give up my life of writing
just to say
i love you.
-a.c.b

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

it's hard to focus on your distant image
with his so clear in front of me,
growing stronger by day
yes, you are still in my mind
but my brain seems to like him more--
playing image after image of his chestnut hair
and sweet smile,
kind words and warm hugs
while your curly hair and crooked teeth
are only played
when your name shows up on my phone.
yes, my brain likes him better
but the real question is
how does my heart feel?

i.
i hate you. i hate you for breaking my heart, i hate you for making me love you, i hate you for all of it. you swore to me that this time would be different. there would be no tears, no scars, no late-night wondering about what i did wrong. ...so then why is it 3am and i can’t stop wondering what i did wrong?

ii.
you’re the most beautiful person i’ve ever met. with that heartbreaking smile you told me about your past trauma, old drama, last flame that never could’ve lasted. i will never meet someone else with the same kind of glint in your eyes. you broke my heart, and darling i thanked you.

iii.
i still ******* love you. with everything within me i have tried to move on but my healed heart still wants you, after all this time, and how can i deny that heart the very same thing that could fix it? i am hurting, my dear. i am hurting without you.

you planted me a garden of wildflowers,
all my favorites and
every kind i didn’t even know i loved.
you picked every flower for me,
handed them over in a bouquet tied with red ribbon,
your love coloring each petal.
your smile was so wide, hope
so big
and i lit the bouquet on fire.
i watched as your face changed, as
the negativity took over and your words tinged blue.
i probably cried a lot less than you,
but
i still cared. that was six months ago and
now you’ve saved up enough to
plant me a new garden, with some old favorites but
new ones as well.  and you thought,
you really thought that
when you gave me that red ribbon bouquet i would take it. you thought i would maybe stop hurting you.
at some points, to be honest,
so did i.
save your garden for someone more deserving,
someone better than the mess i am.
i’m sorry i couldn’t accept your flowers.

it was a perfectly good song,
the kind of words that resound in your head
long after the final note has been sung.
it was a perfectly good song until
i saw you in it,
saw you woven through each line and melody,
and then it was more than just a perfectly good song.
it was you.
every time i saw you, everytime you kissed me,
everytime our ivory skins touched
you were that song.
it was a perfectly good song
as it replaced wedding bells, as
we swayed through an open dance floor
surrounded only by those melodies
and our love.
that song was beaded all over my white gown,
tucked into your tuxedo jacket
instead of a boutineer.
it was a perfectly good song until you left,
until that song was the only thing i had left of your ghost,
until i threw up those lyrics on the side of the street
when i thought i glimpsed you in the crowds.
it was a perfectly good song until those words
were the only thing keeping me company at 2am, besides my own shadow,
of course.
it was a perfectly good song
until it wasn’t.

for someone so guarded,
i sure get attached easily.
-a.c.b

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 am convinced you were sent to me for a reason-
an angel in disguise
i think i'm going to fall in love with you-
i'm almost there, anyways,
but while it terrifies me that it's so soon,
and to relinquish control of my emotions like that,
to fall completely and utterly into someone else...
i have never been happier in the company of another,
i have never known the extent
of full reciprocation,
but darling, i thank you
for showing me how exquisite it is
to be loved by you.
-a.c.b

god i don’t know how many times i can write the same thing,
write that i’m obsessed with you.
obsessed with your smile and laugh
and the way you watch me when i’m happy.
i always used to care that it was unrequited,
now
i just count my blessings each and every night
to have you in my life.

i’m in the thick of it,
bushes, bramble
i scramble
to escape, my darkness’ embrace
i see your face
as a symbol of every mistake
i’ve ever made.

i’m swallowing my pride,
asking for help, i delve
into a journey i don’t want to be public
my problems aren’t yours
my words shouldn’t lure
you into the world of make believe
it’s still a reprieve to
leave when you know
i want to stay.

so stay
away
you can cry, you can pray
for me, i don’t care
i must go through alone
i must no longer make
a person my home
it ends in tears
years and years
of doom and gloom
pictures of you
hung around my room and
another week looms with
the absence of you.

i have to control the
redhot rage coursing through my veins,
all because
a few short words leaked out of your mouth.
why does it matter
how much you yearn to touch me
if i am not comfortable?
why do you have any right to dictate
my decisions,
about my body,
just because it’s been so long
since you’ve tasted anyone?
don’t tell me you care about my feelings,
don’t tell me you just want me to be comfortable,
if you really cared
you would give me all the time i need.

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 want to forgive you.
i want to stop my passive aggressive nonsense,
call you, hug you,
hell, i'd cross country run to you right now if i could
(and we both know how much i hate running).
hi,
i kinda
sorta
miss you tons,
miss your laugh and smile and
the way you run your fingers through your hair.
this isn't the kind of heart wrenching pain that you feel when you say goodbye forever,
(you know i know what that feels like)
but more like a subtle pang in my heart
when i picture your face.
it’s the tangled feeling i get in my tummy when
it feels like all my organs twist in a ball
because i haven’t heard you say my name
a while.
so ask me what do i want to do?
i want to come and love you <3

it still feels like a dream, honestly.
the thought of your lips on mine,
hands on my waist,
my hands placed on your chest.
i felt your smile through your kiss,
got to taste just how happy i make you
and that, my dear
is the best thing i’ve ever tasted.
-a.c.b

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 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.

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’m not sorry for loving him
but i am sorry for hurting you,
i know you’d rather me write about your chocolate eyes
instead of his baby blues.
believe me,
to be honest, so would i.
taking the boy who writes me the world
over the one who constantly lies.
so yes, i know it’s about me,
but please let me sway you in some way,
it’s not fair to have a bad runner like me
sprinting through your mind everyday.
cause i’m not the angel
you make me out to be,
i’m stressed and depressed,
full to the brim with insecurities.
i’m needy and high maintenance...
but i’m sure you know that by now.
the way i ensnared you like i did,
i still don’t know how.
and that’s the other thing,
i’m so bad for you- how can’t you see?
that the best version of you
isn’t being weighed down by me.
he’s strong, independent.
better on his own.
he learned the importance of
not making some girl his home.
and “some girl” i am,
i’m sure there’s plenty of me out there,
with less issues, less chance of hurting you
and of course- better hair.
so darling,
don’t be wooed by some makeup and a dress,
you should focus on my inside-
a ragged, torn mess.
there’s a reason so many
before you have caved:
i’m a girl stuck in a tower
who doesn’t want to be saved.
so i apologize for hurting your heart,
i really, truly do.
but stop your heart from loving me
and you’ll be the best version of you.