the gentle curve your upper lip makes when you smile
I could watch you smile forever

the way your body tenses and then relaxes when you're kissing me
wanting so much but resisting
I'll want you forever

The humming of your breath wrapped in my hoodies
I will never wash them
I could listen to you breathe forever

The smell of your cologne left lingering on my shirts
I will never forget some of those nights
I could smell your scent forever

The closeness and security all of your hugs brought to me
wrapping me up keeping me safe
I could hug you forever

The truth in your voice when you last said "I love you"
I wish I could hear it once more
I'll love you forever

If you do not know me
do not attempt to walk the route I take everyday
do not try to understand what I go through
do not let your heart beat the sad rhythmic drum mine has beaten all my life
If you walk in my shoes you'll die
no hope of ever escaping my life
my troubles and my happiness walk hand in hand
never knowing which is which you live on the verge
on the verge of being happy or sad
depressed or full of energy
it's my life not yours
do not try to comprehend my troubles
my closet is far to filled
no more room for any skeletons
just leave while you still can

She preserves her horrors in her bones
every detail carelessly engraved into her structure
every bump along the way creating a signature braille of her history
a silent story told by the curvature in her body
a girl crying on the inside
wheels of fake smiles and emotions move her
she is a mere puppet to a life she cannot control
the scars are too deep
she is too broken
she cannot tell her story
silenced by horror
her bones narrate.

These scars are my battle wounds
a reward after a long troubled battle with myself
but I won in the end
a symbolic trophy that my struggle is nowhere near over
I am left with the scars
scars where once a crimson red river flowed from them
scars healing over making dams barricading the red monster under them
to feel the sting of the blade in my hands once more
a natural high
the dams don't stand a chance against my new weapon of mass destruction
they will crumble and open at the very touch of the metal to skin
they have to
I have to feel that sensation once again
let the dams break open and the war begin.

People are so stupid.

And angry.

They’re so angry at everyone and everything.

I was your curtain
High on a rod you hung me
Protector of your inner most secrets
A barrier between you and the outside world
Shielding you from unwanted light and judgments cast your way
Hiding the storm that lay outside your window
I was your curtain
Sheltering you from reality that you might look outside
Hiding you from all things a coat of armor
I was your curtain

looks can ****
words can save
you have the choice

I have lived a life full of mistakes and regrets. Sometimes nothing seems to make sense, and I go to my dark place. Where the only colors there are the ones I create for myself. Some colors based on feelings, other colors based on emotions towards memories I’ve tried to bury there. Nothing seems to keep them in the black grave I’ve tried so many times to burn them. They always seep back into my mind little by little, one by one. I can’t control them. I can barely control myself. This mass make up of atoms and shades of various colors, engulf me in your rainbow and take me away.

I enter my room.
I search for the blade.
This feeling of death will never fade.
Maybe it was the drugs, the pills, the ****.
Maybe it was the feeling i wouldnt succeed.
Maybe it was my parents fighting at night.
Blaming me for their on going fights.
Maybe it's me, yes that's it!
Now tonight this will be it.
I will slip away and no one will care.
Not even friends who said they'd be there.
Still too young, not ready to go.
So much to live for.
I guess I'll never know..

coffee, so delicate, yet so simple.
it can give you the highest of buzzes,
to the deepest of thoughts.
coffee is a blank canvas.
the drinker is the artist.
splashing vibrant coats of sugar and milk, creamer flowing from brushes. spoons clanking and stirring a beautiful picture.
creating one of a kind work.
to each cup of coffee his own.

Are we on the A-team when we abuse others?
Torture them because we don't approve of who they choose for lovers.
Are we on the A-team when we make them feel so small, that everything else in their lives gets bigger?
So big and so scary forcing them to pull a trigger.
Are we on the A-team when we pick on her because of her weight?
Not caring at all, that because of this, shes picked a date to end her life, a terrible, terrible fate.
Are we on the A-team when we don't stand up for what is right?
Causing others to be put down, no more hope left to fight.
Now the question lies with you...
Are you on the A-team?

If love is what we cherish, then why do we let it diminish the power of over coming clouded judgments and an array of disappointments?
We blindly let love take over our soul, and corrupt us with images of what we think love is, not what we know to be true.
For you love him, and he loves you. But is it really love,or what we believe it to be?
You make your mark, you burn, you scar, and yet the other leaves feeling satisfied because that is love.
Love is pain, grief, and hunger. Hunger for closeness to any individual willing to abide by your rules and your version of love.
Falling blindly into the abyss of your soul, just to be drowned by previous relationships and feelings.
Feelings of lust, anger, and sadness define you.
Is that love?

I guess i picked the wrong player,
in the wrong game of Guess-Who.
because I'm sure by complete mistake,
I ended up with you.
Brown hair? yes.
Brown eyes? yes.
But what questions did the back of the red, white, and blue cards forget to ask?
Cheater? yes.
Liar? yes.
Questions so important, they just happened to leave them off the back of the card.
Oh, i bet the one person dying to know the answer to these questions would be your girlfriend!
He lies, he cheats, come get the one for you!
because even though we never dated,
I'm breaking up with you.

I could pass you on the street, and not even stop to say a single word.
May sound absurd, but i don't even know you, and i hate you.
Is it possible to hate someone you don't know?
It is. I do.
A faceless woman holding on to the regret of never knowing me, and not even sad about the fact that she was letting go of me?
Who knows maybe you love me.
No wait loved me. because you cant even comprehend the word.

life goes by,
never stopping to ask permission to make everything in its path grow older.

My mind spins,
wondering what one may uncover as they search the portals of my mind and heart.
Will they see you?
Oh how i have thought about you for hours on end.
Will they see death?
I've longed never to confront such a terrible monster.
Will they see my family, friends, or enemies?
Or will they see nothing?
For the times that i have felt nothing, when I've never wanted to feel something so much.
Nothing. my mind. my heart. nothing.
For that is what they have become.

Did you not know that i loved you,
when every fiber of my being, like fibers mended to form the tight bindings of the sweater you forced me to wear called "your love" took over me?
Did you not know that every inch of my soul longed so much to be one with yours, so much, that the very thought of you brought tears to my eyes?
Those tears that i cried every night for moths that washed me clean of my relationship, but never of the shame or guilt, they were the feelings that let me know i was still alive on my own.
For i breathed in you, and you in me, and we were one.
But so easily, you pulled the one loose string, and our love, what we had,
became nothing more than a pile of old thread.

Her eyes.
Her eyes tell of a hidden story.
within its pages, the book in her eyes contains the terrors and pains that haunt her.
so many tears shed, within its bindings, oceans cried and poured out, drowning anyone who dare try to read and understand her story.
Her eyes.
Her eyes have seen things that would make the average person lose the will to live, seen things that could make you cry.
But dare not cry for her, for she blames herself. she doesnt want your pity or sympathy.
She accepts the love she thinks she deserves, and at the moment it's none.
Her eyes.
Her eyes pierce through those she thinks might hurt her.
paranoid, panicked, she uses her coldness as a shield and armor, letting no one in.
Her eyes.
Her eyes wont let you in.
Too many people have left her, why let another tragic ending begin?
Her eyes.
Her eyes trust no one, and fear a great deal.
She hates her self, her body, nothing is real.
Her eyes.
Her eyes are tired.

She wears an armor of secrets and stories.
Staying safe, toying with truth.
Forger of fact and fiction.
Protector of her thoughts, hers to own,to share or to keep.
The keeper of secrets. a safety net?

The invisible scars that she carries can be blinding.
Scars from infancy with no conscious memories.
Inflicted by a thoughtless mother, too self-absorbed to realize the impact her senseless acts would leave on my beautiful child.
Your actions filled her with distrust, now she distrusts me.
Your actions filled her with fear, now she is consumed with fears.
Your actions made her feel unloved, now she cannot feel my love.
Your actions made her feel unworthy, now she questions her true value and identity.
You asked me not to judge you, and to walk in your shoes.
I so wish i could have walked in your shoes for 15 months. then my daughter would know love, trust, and self worth. She would be afraid of the monsters under her bed and in her closet, not the monsters that robbed her of the basic needs, safety, security, and love that all children deserve and need.
If only i could go back and walk in your shoes. Then the invisible scars would not blind me with their redness. If only i could erase the invisible scars that continue to haunt my daughter.

I cant help but cry myself to sleep tonight,
for another customer lays asleep at my right.
When will this life of terror end?
In the brothel no one is your friend.
Used at night and tortured by day,
nothing at all will ever make this pain go away.
The owners convince us we owe them some debt,
but who am i to argue? i have no fight left.
Each night,fifty,sixty, men or more,
do they know that they hurt me?
or am i just a common *****?
i know my place and when to speak and behave.
But to them, and even to me,
im just a worthless *** slave.

Where i go she does not follow,
she sits on the couch full of sorrow.
with a needle aimed at her wrist,
she sits and sits and sits and sits.
making sure no one disturbs her,
she beats them until they're black and blue.
broken ribs and arms, oh the pain.
but from this she does not gain.
people, strangers, enter our home,
they take us away,
they leave her alone.
"mom!" i scream but my voice is hollow,
for where i go she does not follow.

There were tears in my eyes as I sat down to write this poem. I thought of all the times we shared, memories we made, and promises we kept. You were mine and I was yours, and the thought of anyone breaking up was absurd because we were together.
Blinded by love, we couldn’t see the mass destruction of our own souls and wellbeing.  We were so entangled and enveloped in each other we didn’t notice anything going on around us. We died inside of each other. Breathing in new particles of old limbs, memories, and mistakes, building ourselves anew with the ashes of what we were.
Like the phoenix we burned bright. A crimson red, we burned. Melting and fusing into one. One heart, one mind, one body, one soul.
And what were we left with? Cinders from the fire leaping out, touching the ones we loved and touched, and leaving them with the unintentional scars of our love. Do we really mean to hurt the ones we love, when all we are doing is becoming the person we think deserves someone else’s love? If we are who we are, then who are we? Are we the people we want to be? Or are we the people we told ourselves we would never become? Disappointment passed down through the lines, telling us we will never be what we expected.
No map just mazes. And it’s our responsibility to find our own way out. If we stumble upon someone to help us through the maze, we have found love. But only will that love be real and true, if you make it out of the maze. Leaving behind old partners for new versions of the people they could have been.
This maze is never ending. This maze is life.

Boy meets girl,
Girl meets boy.
His heart a temple,
Her heart a toy.
She thinks yes,
He thinks no.
She says stop,
He says go.
He plays with her heart like a childhood toy,
She cries for hours about the stupid boy.
She calls two times,
He texts her back.
He wants her gone,
She wants him back.

Passed out on the couch. Ice cold.
Ice cold like the needle she used as a blindfold to the life she took no responsibility for.
Ice cold. Ice cold like the tombstones in the graveyard where she laid her boyfriend to sleep, left with a beautiful mistake she wanted to keep, but just like everything else besides drugs in her life, her baby didn’t fit her schedule. Forced to be put last on her to-do list, she “sheltered” her with lies and excuses that in reality were portrayed as bruises.
A personal punching bag to a worthless stab at a mother. Seeing your own flesh and blood as a barricade between you and your next fix, “I hate you” were words I was never afraid to admit. You left me, only seen as a nuisance to you. Forget about me as I can’t forget about you.
The final straw that broke the camel’s back. Was I too much to handle? I mean you handled your smack!
“*******” are the words that come to mind, when I think about you ninety-nine percent of the time.
If it’s possible to hate someone you barely know, well then that’s true because mom, mommy, *****, druggie, mother, I can honestly say I do.