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.

and he said
“love, of course
you’re in my perfect day.”
he paused.
“you are my perfect day.”
-a.c.b

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.

poetry is the way the air whispers to you
after a heavy rain,
tickling your nose and
fluttering your eyelashes,
the sky grey like your eyes
you see poetry
as you listen to the clouds move
you paint it--
with words, that is,
the flow of the letters steadily inking the page like
the rain last night i think
poetry is the way we breathe.
-a.c.b

i must ask myself,
“what is it that
i’m really afraid of?”
i guess, all this time
i’ve been under the impression that
we feel the same way.
just suppressing our feelings until
we can make sense of them but
what if i’m wrong?
what if you meant it
when you said that
you were riding this one out solo?
i guess that’s what’s stopping me
from telling you,
from giving you that letter.
at this point,
i don’t know if i could take
another romantic failure, another
set of months spent
crying and fuming
and writing angsty breakup poems
about a boy i never even dated.
i guess i’m still afraid of
rejection.

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.

pain is beautiful, right?
that girl,
you see her over there-
what a **** shame.
she’s so sad...
maybe she’ll be my next
community service project,
maybe i’ll turn her pain
into shockingly bright beauty
see the boy over there?
his chestnut hair is disheveled ,
clothes rumpled like
he’s been wearing them for a week
straight.
roll up his sleeves-
those bright pink cuts are
still glistening ,
razor-straight like he used a ruler,
desperate
for even his pain to be perfect ‘cause
oh god who would accept it
if it wasn’t?
look at that wintery pale girl about
ten feet away...
look at that collarbone,
defined jawline!
aren’t you jealous of her self control?
her ribs are jutting out from
under her cheery yellow shirt but
as long as she has a “beach body,”
it doesn’t matter that
her organs are eating themselves.
don’t tell me pain is beautiful.
you can’t see what’s going on
beneath the surface.

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.

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

in a red dress i kissed him
yes, on the lips i touched mine to his
and oh god did sparks fly
and oh god did those embers fall to our
feet and
start a fire that will not
can not die and
my scarlet dress still smells like smoke,
his residual fingers still touching me all over
and he is, and forever will be
my everything,
my North, South, East, and West,
my ocean and my stars and
every grain of sand on the beach
and never will i ever
ever
let him go.

you are the mirror rebuilt
from all my broken pieces.
-a.c.b

yes, i'm falling for him but
you're still tugging at my mind,
reminding me to
cry a little harder for you.
i'm left wondering who
your blue eyes are piercing now,
who are you saying "i love you" to,
promising forever?
i'm sure she'll trust you,
sure she'll start writing poetry about your eyes
cause god have you ever seen something so blue?
i wonder if you'll break her

like you did me.

i find it hard to believe
that everything happens for a reason when
after two years of drowning in my own sadness
i found happiness
and three months later he was ripped out of my arms.

i find it funny how
one person can trick you into thinking
we're not all going to end up alone
but really
after 80 some-odd years on this planet
we are alone for the rest of eternity
so i guess i don't see the appeal
of finding someone for those short several decades.

i find it quite ironic
that the source of your infinite happiness
and eternal despair
can be the same exact boy with olive skin and dark freckle under his right eye
he who can start a panic attack rising in your chest
with one glance across the crowded gymnasium.

remind me how to forget.
-a.c.b

it’s so much easier to just
let myself drown in my tears than
to fight back.
-a.c.b

when September came
i was reminded why exactly
our love had only stayed above water in the warm air.
with Autumn’s arrival
so did the realization
that our love had since drowned.

the coffee is warm
as it slides down my throat,
the heat spreading through my chest and
down to my stomach i know
the sun is rising somewhere up to my right,
amber rays hitting my hunched shoulders
and back,
but my mind is focused on the lines swirling in front of me,
words strung together just begging
to be said aloud,
letters floating all over the page until
they take the shape of
my best dream and worst nightmare,
my apologies and angry rants and
all the times i’ve fallen in love without reciprocation
and the boys i’ve hurt and people i never want to forgive.
i write about early morning sunrises
and late night stargazing
and all the feelings i’ve never felt,
strangers i’ve never kissed in
foreign streets but i know
one day these letters will float off the page,
take shape in
a little place called Reality...
but for now,
it’s just me,
the coffee,
and my poetry,
melding together under
the rising sun.
-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

like the air is being squeezed out of my lungs,
cheeks growing hot,
tears springing to my eyes
as i bite down on my tongue, hard.
and just like that, you're there
tapping my shoulder,
searching my face with worry once you realize
i'm not
actually
fine.
and then you walk with me,
then you talk with me,
talk me down from the ledge of my anxiety,
make me forget i was even
on the ledge.
but then, just like that
you hug me goodbye
and it all comes flooding back-
the fear and the heart rate
and the overwhelming
sadness
when i know i promised myself
i would stop letting other people be my happiness. i can not
let you be my happiness.
-a.c.b

you fell for me during summer
when i was in full bloom,
when i was open, loving.
ready to face the world.
you fell for me
as i was splashing in the icy waters
of the Jersey Shore,
holding onto setting suns
and tanned legs.

you first felt me fade in Fall,
my leaves crinkling, crumpling.
dying before your very eyes.
i guess you could say that’s when
you saw my true colors,
browns and burgundies and rusty siennas.
i was still warm to the touch, though,
and i reminded you of summer.

it was winter when we
cracked like ice,
those shards slicing our hearts like
Jack Frost paid our freezing love
a visit.  
i remember the cold in my heart,
the ache from the lack of warmth,
the frigid aura
surrounding anything i touched.
that’s when the yelling started;
snow falling so fast and heavy
we were up to our eyes in it
before we could even take a breath.

it is Spring now,
and i am thawing, healing.
i have planted my apologies like wildflowers,
everywhere—
but nowhere on purpose.
i promise you— soon,
i will bloom again.

i fold my legs and clasp my hands,
i dream of faraway, utopian lands.
i close my eyes and count to five,
wondering if i'll ever feel truly alive.

i've lived my life for one boy alone,
blonde hair- my heart, blue eyes- my home.
but beyond his eyes, i've yet to see,
it's time to start
living for me.

she is more than he bargained for.
she has thoughts, dreams,
a magical mind he
didn’t see coming.
he’s spent days sketching her in his mind,
her locks of mahogany,
doe eyes, freckled nose.
he asked her if she wrote about him,
if she saw his mind as beautiful
as he saw hers.
in the warmth of the moment she forgot
to ask him the same thing.

she is a charcoal sketch.
she is dark,
jagged at the edges, rough.
she is only a first draft--
soon the pencil marks will be erased
and the best is yet to come.
not only is she a watercolor painting--
pastels bleeding together until
you can't find where
each emotion stops and starts--
but also the dark Sharpie lines
etched in arcs on said painting,
a beautiful composition of
daydream and nightmare.
she is cracked clay.
she crumbles easily, powder
breaking off from her sculpture
in such a way that
no amount of glue will ever reattach.
she may be broken and
cracked in all the wrong places but
sometimes imperfections add beauty
to an otherwise ordinary masterpiece.

she’s the girl that made you believe in love.
with that infection laugh and
rough-around-the-edges persona,
she made you fall.
oh darling,
she made you fall fast.
she’s the girl that’s beautiful but
will never believe it,
doesn’t see it,
even though it’s pointed out to her all the time.
this girl is bright and oh god does she shine.
even on her dull days,
when the rain won’t stop pouring and
she can’t breathe,
she manages to smile.
she can fool you all.
she’s the girl that keeps them all at bay,
wondering
if she’s making a mistake.
princes flock to her like cattle,
desperate to have their hearts broken
by the girl who’s smile shines brighter
than the whole entire galaxy.

silly boy,
you were there for her through everything.
through the breakup, through the boys,
through her consuming void.
you consoled her, called her beautiful, was a friend
when the world and everyone else had turned their backs.
but now you want more.
silly boy,
don't get greedy.
she is a loose cannon, a feather floating in the wind.
she cannot be tied down, so
don't try.
silly boy,
i know you're hurting.
you're in need of somebody to love.
silly boy,
she can't fall in love with you
when she hasn't fallen in love with her self first.

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

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.

oh how i wish you could patch me up like you want to,
if only i'd let you,
if only i could do it for myself.
oh silly boy
i may be raining on the outside
but inside there's a hurricane.
it's so much more than skin deep.

i hate small talk.
in such an enigmatic world,
convoluted and destitute of magic,
who cares about the weather?
at 1o'clock in the morning,
as we're sitting up drowning in caffeine like a life source
i want to know why your mother left when you were ten.
i want to know where that scar on your arm is from,
how your marvelous compositions originated.
i need to know your most reclusive dreams,
your thoughts and plans for the future planned years in advance.
i don't care about your 9-5 job--
who was your first love?
and
are you finally over how she broke your heart?
i understand if you're not.

let's skip the small talk, love.
i want to know you.

i fell in love with a shadow of a man,
all smoke and mirrors,
but the smoke is thick and dark-
it circles around my lungs and squeezes
when he is not with me;
he embodies the mirror 'cause god
the only time i see myself
is when i'm looking up at him.

i fell in love with a shadow of a man...
and now i am nothing
but smoke and mirrors.
-a.c.b

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

who am i
to write about a boy that doesn’t belong to me?
your hand isn’t mine to hold, lips to kiss.
i am meant to be in solitude,
but oh how i wish
to have someone i don’t have to explain myself to,
someone i don’t have to apologize to
for my involuntary flinch
when i hear certain words.
someone who will tell me
“baby it’s not your fault your past is so ******* up.”
and we would swallow bits of the stars
so we could share the stories of our ancestors and
read each other’s horoscopes and
ooh & ahh about
how compatible we are.
oh how i wish to have someone
who will make me forget
i am meant to be in solitude.

he says we're all made of stars
and sitting there, meeting your eye
i could not agree more
because i have never,
not ever
seen anyone shine as bright as you.
-a.c.b

she's afraid to get close.
she's afraid he'll soothe her,
become her favorite forever
and consistent always,
afraid he'll make her feel like
she isn't broken.
she's afriad of the inevitability of it all.
she's afraid he'll back out,
leave,
make the Great Escape during her darkest hour.
she's afraid she'll become too dependent,
too addicted to his
natural chemical happiness
(not the kind she takes with water every morning),
his ability to calm her storm.
she's afraid that she'll forget what it's like to be alone,
so when, finally,
she is left alone with only her shadow,
she will only remember that Sunshine Boy
and, how, with him gone,
he took her only source of brightness.
she's afraid to get close...
they all end up leaving anyway.

with words made of thread and
lips like a needle,
you weaved your words through me,
healed me, closed
all wounds.
but the thread was thin,
easy to break, and
with the slightest force, it snapped.
each time i turned away, there you were
with that same golden thread and those same loving lips,
ready to fix me over
and over again.
but how many times can the wound reopen
before it can’t be sewn up again?
how many times can i get my heart broken,
before learning that it’s okay not to forgive?
how many times does it take for you to pull back
until one day, finally
you just don’t come back?

i just want to stay up all night
writing, perhaps.
haikus & slam poetry, written in all caps.
watching the starry sky
with a handsome stranger,
running red lights and trespassing
regardless of danger.
maybe a late-night drive
with the windows rolled down,
a romantic stroll
through this sleepy town.
how about a midnight picnic
with my favorite lover?
whole summer spent promising
there will never be another.
i'll tell you again:
i don't care what we do,
because anything becomes everything
when i'm doing it with you.
-a.c.b

i made you appreciate the sun.
you made me forget it was raining.
-a.c.b

the tears are falling from more
than just my eyes.
they are falling from
my soul.
-a.c.b

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.

i don't want to write
because i know if i do
i'll only be staring back
at reflections of you

but my words have been silenced
for long enough, they cry
to be let out
to be shouted to the sky

it's hard to remain
so calm and even-keeled
when i'm stitching shut a wound
that isn't ready to be healed

but i'm back on my feet
i've gotten off my knees
learning that i'm the only one
i need to please

you can call me cold
i really don't care
but for once i feel okay-
i'm becoming happy, i swear

it's been about three weeks
and he's still constantly on my mind
and while each thought reminds me
of a better time

i'm unlearning the taste
of his lips and his words
forgetting what it felt like
to be someone's "girl"

because being with him made me forget
that i am my own
i don't belong to him or
anyone else
and i am my home

if  you want to make "home" a person
don't make it anyone but you
you're the only one guaranteed
not to just pass through

so i guess this is the start
of my journey to self-love
of acceptance and growth
and belief in the above

and while i'm still not great
i know i'll be there on my own
so thank you, ex-lover,
for teaching me how to be alone.
-a.c.b

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've learned over time
that when tragedy strikes, it's
so much easier to bury your face in a pillow
and give in to the fog...
and wait.
wait for someone else to come along and make it crystal clear again.
wait for someone else to make sense of all the grey
you see no matter how times you rub your eyes.
but darling, i ask you,
if everyone gives into the fog
who will be left to fight it off?
although it's easier to pray for a knight, a miracle, something,
sometimes you have to save yourself.

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.

what i would give
to see what you're listening to,
to know if you hide behind your music like i do,
let the lyrics shout the words
you are too afraid to whisper.

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.

i've never met someone who has made me realize
sometimes words just aren't enough.
sometimes the feelings surpass the rules of grammar,
stanza breaks,
word choice.
sometimes they surpass each and every one
of those 26 letters,
because not a single one could form a word
that gives justice to your beauty,
to your character,
to how you make me feel.
your love is turning me redundant,
taking away all originality
since every one of my poems now
is written with you in mind.
i'd be upset, except
the payoff is so much greater.
-a.c.b

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

i look at you and wonder
how anyone ever thought it was okay
to let you think
you deserve anything less than
the world.

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 FREAKING LOVE POETRY. i don't care that the boys snicker about me behind my back because i was writing verses on the top of my math binder. i don't care that my friends call me overdramatic for it, don't care that everyone forgets to support my endeavors until it concerns them don't care don't care don't care

2. LOVING YOURSELF DOES NOT MAKE YOU SELFISH. my love, it's necessary. it's okay to look in the mirror and think you're pretty. it's okay to put on makeup because you like the way it looks, or wear nothing on your face at all. it's okay to wear a dress because you know it's your crush's favorite color, but it's also okay to dress up for yourself. wear what you want, do what you want. **** **** up.

3. SHOOT YOUR SHOT 2018. go for it. go for him, go for her. take a risk. the worst thing they can say is no! and if they say no, you get the next best thing... closure and the ability to move on! release your fears like a truckload of bricks and let yourself learn to love.

4. YOU ARE TRYING YOUR BEST. YOU, YES YOU. life is freaking hard. it will kick your ***. but the question you need to ask yourself is will you get back up? there are dark days. i won't deny it, there are days when the rain won't stop pouring and you'll be drowning in it. but then, one day, the rain will cease and the sun will shine again. it may seem like a stretch, but one day.... i promise.

5. EVERYONE, LET ME LIVE MY LIFE. if i want to be a writer, let me. an engineer? that, too. take the classes i want? yep. hang out with the people i want to be surrounded with? definitely. don't judge my choices and compare them to your own, there's a reason i made that decision and not you. mind your own business, if it concerns you, i will consult you.