There are three different views of love:
Love is for the weak
Love is for the week
Love is

I like the way the syllables in your name taste
when they roll around my ******* whisper.
Sugar coated when they fall
from my mouth into your ear.

-
if i wrote a poem for every time
i felt like checking out indefinitely
i'd have six collections published
and the means to build myself
a cabin in a river valley,
tucked away between
two peaks of the andes
that are as lonely
as the singing/screaming
dual facets of the inner mind.
-
and ironically, i'd use the space
to fill the necessity i ran from
anyways, but --
-

I went on our old trail today,
with beautiful people,
who I care about a lot
and I saw our initials on a tree,
and I remember standing there,
watching you carve it with your key
and the way you kissed me when it was finished.
I remember a lot of things we used to do,
sometimes I think I remember them better now
than I did then.

But I smiled today,
and I rolled down a grassy hill,
and I laughed with my friends,
and a boy called me beautiful,
and I don't remember the last time someone called me that.

I'd like to think,
I am making progress,
because today was the first time,
I realized life can be good
without you.

I have not been pure
since freshman year
when I had awkward *** with my boyfriend
which ended in tears
and both of us feeling weird.
One Sunday in November
I gave head to a boy who said he liked me,
but he just used me, and told everyone about it,
And thats when they first started calling me '****'
They burned that name into my head
until I didn't believe I was anything else
so then it began,
Different boys different nights,
sometimes different boys, same night
only 15 years old.
****,
they yelled out of their cars when I walked home from school,
****,
they whispered while I was still in ear shot
****,
I told myself when I looked in the mirror
Daddy problems,
I want to be loved.
My purity never meant anything to me,
My reputation was shot before I could say anything
And don't get me wrong,
I'm not blaming anyone but myself.
I learned to stop expecting anything from the boy I'd fallen asleep with in the morning
I learned that I was a tool to be used and thrown away when it was over
I learned that the likely hood of someone liking me for more than whats under my clothes were slim.
I learned that I will never be girlfriend material
I learned that my worth is determined by the boys I sleep with
I learned that I am a ****,
and that is all I will ever be

the irony:
killing time
ends up killing me

but hey,
it's nothing personal
it's strictly business

don't cry
don't cry
don't ******* cry

but be honest
stay honest
stay logical
but don't stuff your emotions
be honest
be logical
don't cry
be strong
but don't push back



just don't ******* cry

to you:
i walked through the grocery store
and i ran my fingers over every bottle full of *****
and it reminded me of you
because you're full of things that people like
and things that people become addicted to
and truth serums
and good stories
and poison
but there always seems to be a thin layer of glass around you
because i don't really understand you
and i don't think i ever will
until i can see the bottom of the bottle
feeling miserable