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ac Sep 2018
i tell you drunk texts are sober thoughts
and you reply with 8 simple letters,
followed by 1 question mark.
"is that what you want to hear?"
a skip of my heartbeat is the only answer i need
tell me while you're in my arms or while we are dancing in the moonlight with a bottle of ***** and a blanket. tell me while we jump off a bridge together and fall into a river matching the tears i cry over missing you. not now, please
ac Jun 2018
im not the girl that parties with strangers on friday nights
to drown her broken past
with a large bottle and a little white pill

im not the girl that sends scandalous pictures by night
and wears a pristine uniform by day
for her picture perfect parents

im not the girl that appears okay with the sun
but after the moon comes out
her porcelain skin is bloodied and bruised from her own monsters

no, im not that girl.

so who the hell am i to you?
a question that cannot be answered
  Mar 2018 ac
there are so many of you
that i would love to sit down with;
maybe over a milkshake and a plate of fries;
and just talk.
i want to ask you about the boy that hurt you,
about the anger you feel deep inside
over a father who said he’d come back...
and then didn’t.
i want to run with you through pages of words and say
“oh that’s right, what a lovely metaphor.”
i want to see all your smiling faces and
thank each and every one of you for showing me kindness,
for saving my life.
i want to collaborate on novels of poetry
and laugh with you through the tears of our pasts.
so until we sip those milkshakes and eat those fries...
thank you, to
some of the most beautiful people i have never met.
to all my HePo followers/friends/ fellow poets! you have all given me a beautiful escape from Life <3
ac Jan 2018
its an epidemic
of sickeningly perfect
red lines

its an epidemic
of sweatshirts
pulled far over hands
and pants
too long for the weather

its an epidemic
of numbers too high
almost as high
as ponytails of girls
on their knees in bathrooms

its an epidemic
of fake smiles
of two coats of foundation
over a red splotchy face;
finish it off with waterproof mascara
to hide the stains

its an epidemic
i know you know of it too
inspired by The Treatment series by Suzanne Young
ac Oct 2017
the artists of words know
its 2a.m. when the words come retching out
after an hour of damp papers
they weren't supposed to come out
not today
no, you can't tell your friends
because only a poet knows
the ****** battle
you are fighting
inside your
keep fighting honey
ac Jul 2017
why are we like this
spilling words onto paper
in dark lit rooms
with doors closed
heartbreak playing
like a record
and my heart
is the record player
the scratches make me vintage

— The End —