time
it mocks me
perched on its throne
tick tock
you are getting older
one step closer to the grave
that you have been digging yourself
*******

if there is one thing I have learned from loving the broken
it is to never use it as an excuse to stop loving myself
to not neglect my own damaged heart in hopes of repairing another's
it's like how on an airplane they tell you to put on your own oxygen mask first and then assist others in need
because it is impossible to save someone else while you are also suffocating
-

congratulations

                           you've done it again

you ruined my night

                            made it so I cannot dream

they should give you a medal

                             awoken by the sound of your voice

for being so ******* haunting

                             how sweet it is to hear you again

don't you have someone else to ****

                              oh I miss you too my dearest

for ****'s sake get your heart off your sleeve

                               do you still love me?

you're really just pathetic at this point

                               of course I still love you

sorry, but *******

                               gonna have to agree on that one, ********

the universe was marvelous last night
you took me by the hand
and we walked for a few miles
past the playground and the morgue
our lungs left vapor trails behind us
as the bitter autumn air licked our cheeks
but I didn't feel a **** thing
except for the warmth of your palms
pressed tight against my back
pressed tight against my back.

you are a shadow
wherever I go
there you are
-

every single day there are things that make me think
"huh, I should write about this"
and I make a mental note of it
and then I forget all about it
until the next day
when I see patches of green moss creeping along the cold cement sidewalks
or the warmth of his hand against the small of my back as we boogie down on the dance floor at the Mineshaft to Come On Eileen
playing spin the bottle in a haunted hotel room at four in the morning and hoping to land on the same girl over and over and over again cause her lips taste like cigarettes and Burt's Bees peppermint chapstick and I just ******* crave that **** ya know?
I crave the things that make me want to write, that make me feel inspired, that make me feel human
and at the end of the day it doesn't matter if I write any of it down because I still felt it and I still love it and it still happened and it still counts
life still ******* counts
-

had to bite my tongue
I almost said I love you
from force of habit

If I could have anything in the world
at this moment in time
it would be
your fingers
interlocking
with mine
-

those feelings
they're back again
but I'm convinced
they never left
-

I still think about that boy sometimes
in the same way that someone who breaks their kneecap
gets a ***** put in it to hold their bones together
but they are only reminded of it
when they are at the airport and they
have to walk through a metal detector
-

a car full of bodies
lungs full of smoke
hearts full of love
a night to remember
-

it was the night I fell in love with the universe
the night I fell in love with myself
the night I fell in love with every hand that touched me
every petal on every flower in ever garden
I fell in love with the twinkle lights along the window
and the wind chimes that line the front porch

the one with the orange hair pulled me close
she promised we would always be sisters
and sealed the promise with a kiss on my forehead
she knew I needed that reassurance

the one with the freckles held my hand tight
she reminded me that I was as beautiful as the stars
and gave me her favorite rock to hold onto
she knew I needed that permanence

and the rest of us, we danced into oblivion
in a smoke filled room and on a candle lit porch
with jaws clenched and teeth grinding
I felt what it is like to be a human being again
-

I've been sleeping in my parents' bed while they're away
the same bed I could crawl into as a child when I would have the night terrors
Dad is different now, different than he was back then
now he always has a drink in his hand, accompanied by a forced smile
He used to have a sparkle in his eyes, now I realize that was just his contact lens.
Sometimes I think it's my fault,
that I'm the one who broke him.
-

sometimes I think I am loveless and cold, and that's why I hate the heat and get sick all the time
but she reminded me of all the love I do have
love that fills the room and echoes like a choir's song on a Sunday
love that burns through me like a match in a grassy field
I have love for the trees and for the river and for the smooth rocks and even for the jagged ones that cut my knees
there is love every time she forgets to put on sunscreen and there is love when I take care of her so she can be high on acid
I give love to my father and mother, who watched me destroy myself for years and held my hand as I walked out of the darkness
but I think most important of all
is that I have love for myself
for my scars and my freckles and my stretch marks and my illness and my flat feet and my small hands and my messy hair and my sweaty palms and for everything that makes me who I am
I have love
-

a storm rolled in today
but not the dark kind of storm
no, not a winter storm
it was a spring storm
in which sunlight kissed
each and every drop of rain
before the rain came down
and kissed my forehead
as if it was sent just for me
to remind me that I am alive
-

bundled up in a sadness soaked blanket
hating every inch of my existence
wishing that I had more Nyquil
so I can sleep for a few days
and maybe not wake up
-

I had a dream about you last night.

I could feel you in my bones
Fingers tangled in my hair
Your warm breath against my neck
The curve of my spine pressed tightly into your chest
We stayed like this for hours
and exchanged nothing more
than those forbidden three words
that we have come to know
and hate so well.

I woke up
alone
afraid
disappointed
Because for a split second
I was unaware that it was only a dream
and I was expecting you to be there
next to me.

But,
you weren't there.
You will never again be there.

*Oh ****,
I miss you so much.

he said he didn't know why he kissed me that night
(a familiar line for me)
he tells me he loves me and wants to protect me
picks me up from parties when I am too drunk to move
makes silly sounds on his keyboard to stop my crying
plays board games with me until two in the morning when I can't sleep
he is a light at the end of the hallway that I am getting closer and closer to reaching
but he said he didn't know why he kissed me
-

for a while now I have thought that maybe I just forgot how to write
but I think as I have gotten older
and more and more ****** up things happen
I have lost the ability to articulate my thoughts and feelings and messes into words or actual poetry
everything I write now is some form of a journal entry or list
it's a ******, really
I thought maybe I could be someone someday
that my writing could make a difference
you know?
now I just sit here alone in my dimly lit room on a friday night with a joint in my hand tapping my foot along to an old B 52's record given to me for my birthday by a wonderful boy who I used to spend countless nights writing about because it was all I knew how to do and it's hard for me to even believe that I was once capable of that because writing about anything now seems so........
-

I saw you today
for the first time in months
I hope you didn't notice
how fast my heart was beating

You made me sick to my stomach
so I stuck my fingers down my throat
and threw up every memory of you
and now I feel better








                                                                *don't worry.
                                                              I still miss you.

we looked silly with our goggles on
splashing around in your pool
somersaults and handstands
chlorine kisses and tangled hair
summer is coming
oh yes,
summer is coming
-

and now I am drunk
and now I am sobbing
and now I can't tell
what stain is blood
and what stain is wine
-

not everything is a big deal
just a little something I've been trying to remind myself of these days

I live in a very old house with yellow walls and tall ceilings and creaky doors
Every day I subconsciously make the same wrinkley dissatisfied face towards the smell of rotting peaches that line the walkway
The house is much prettier when everything is dead
I haven't made love in this house
though it's not to be said that love has been absent
In fact I have never loved anyone or anything more in any other house than in this old slanted set of walls
It was here that I began to fall in love with myself and with my life
It was here that recovery became more of a lifestyle and less of a chore
Now I here on my bed in my tiny room in my tiny old house with my tiny little puppy
thinking about all of the things that used to keep me up at night
and none of it matters anymore
because not everything is a big deal
-

two years ago today
a part of me was murdered
and it took two years
to see what happened
to relive it over and over
to be haunted by it
to admit it
to vocalize it
and now I sit here
with the ashes of my past
and I want to die.

I want you.

I want you on top of me.
I want you inside of me.
I want your hands holding mine.
I want your bones breaking mine.
I want your eyes capturing mine.

I want you.
I want you.
I want you.

(just one more time
then I promise you
that I will never
want you again)

I like the way I still feel that thing
that thing I feel when you tilt you head back with laughter
I think it's something about the way the light
fills you, fills your dark
(even if it's just for a second)
you are warm in that laughter
it reminds me of the warmth I felt
when you looked at me
like I was some kind of wonderful
because I was, I still am
and so are you
so please,
don't stop laughing
-

the bad days aren't so bad anymore
and the good days are plentiful
I don't tremble at the thought of going outside alone
or ***** when I see my reflection in the mirror
the only scars being left on my body now are ones granted to me by a late night adventure or a tumble at the river
even my parents are educating themselves on what exactly is going on inside me
what exactly is going on inside me?
an unfortunate series of chemical reactions passed down from generation to generation like a family heirloom
thanks, mom
maybe if I was normal he would have loved me more
maybe if I was normal he would have stayed
but hey, at least the bad days aren't so bad anymore
-

Excuse me, sir
you have something of mine
I was going to give it to
someone that I actually loved
but you took it from me
with my hands pinned back
and my dress unzipped
---
I'm sorry, sir
did I not scream loud enough
or was that just a turn on
filled me up with *****
until I was nice and sloppy
does no ever really mean no
apparently not.

I have been wanting to write about someone new
someone who gives me a different feeling
from the familiar heartache others have gifted me
but I never thought it was going to be you
until you held my hand at the New Year's party
and let me put my Viva Glam III lipstick on you
yes, it was then that I knew I wanted more
oh how I wanted to kiss you in that moment
to make a mural of reds and pinks on one another's mouths
next time I won't hold back
next time I will be brave
-

I think that the hardest part of moving on is letting go
I used to believe that they were synonymous
boy, was I wrong
I've moved on plenty of times with plenty of people
but I never truly let go of him
I was afraid that if I loosened my grip and really let go,
I would never hold on to anyone again
(which I know now to be utterly false)
So, I again loved and lost and loved and lost
but now I am faced with the same familiar dilemma
of coordinating my demands with my extrinsic muscles
and unclenching my fists that I have so tightly latched onto you
(I just can't seem to let this one go)
-

feeling small and alone in a thunder storm
waking up next to someone who said they love you but only after you said it first
bruises and bite marks left by a boy who tries to **** himself every other week
a flickering candle that illuminates the silhouettes of the flowers on the windowsill
seeing your ex boyfriend at a show in the city
seeing your ex boyfriend at a show in the city with another girl
seeing your ex boyfriend at a show in the city with another girl while you are with another boy
using human flesh and physical contact to fill the void left by years of abuse and traumas
taking medication that makes you violently ill but keeps the darkness at bay
making lists of things that keep me awake at night in hopes of gaining some kind of peace of mind
-

remember how I used to write your last name
and imagine how it would look next to my first name
well now I am doing the same thing
only with someone far more wonderful
than you can ever hope to be
-

I have never held a tighter grip
than I did in that moment
on your Black Flag t-shirt
draping over your trembling chest
the smell of hash and cigarettes
clung to our damp bodies
I had hoped it would mask
the stench of loneliness in the room
as your arms began to grasp tighter
around my broken bag of bones
I whispered something into your ear
and I have since then been repeating it
over and over again in my head
trying to make sense of it

*I'm not ready to let go yet.

I swear to god
it seems like friends
are hardly ever the people
we expect them to be
they stab you in the back
and then offer you some bleach
to help get the blood stain out of your shirt.
-

forget
seems to be the only thing
we want
to do

but you see
why would I want to forget
all of the times
that I smiled
and you laughed
and I sang
and you slept
and I cried
and you kissed
and I ran
and you chased
and I fell
and you caught
and we danced
and we loved
and we grew
together.

because despite my biggest of efforts
I can not forget
the most beautiful of flowers.

it has been more than a hundred days
since I gave myself a scar
but last week I paid a doctor
to give me three of them
(how oxymoronic of me)
-

soon I will be covered in flowers
they will grow from my scars
and bring infinite beauty
to all that is ugly about me
and I will live forever
in a skin of petals

It's been colder in my bed
without you here
I have no arm around me
no hand tangled in my hair
there are no good night kisses
no good morning tickles
bathtime is routine again
no more water fights to be had
afternoons are spent alone
no spontaneous sessions of love making
(I'm sure the apartment below
is quite thankful for that)
-
basically
what I am getting at
is that I miss you
and I hope to god
you miss me too