I promised myself
That I would change
That this year would be different
But already I’m finding myself
Repeating my same mistakes
Over and over

I promised myself
That I would believe in myself
That I wouldn't give up
But I’m already finding myself
Slipping away

*-h.m

i think and think
i think myself out of happiness
                         but never into it
i say one thing, you glance at me
you stay silent
but in my mind you’re screaming
that i’m hopelessly inadequate
                         i couldn’t agree more
somewhere, i know it’s not true
but that doesn’t matter
my thoughts are suffocating me
                         i am a plague to myself

i’m drowning in my own
definition of beauty
i look around and see it
hidden in spoken words
dancing on the curves of smiles
bouncing out in laughter
but i glance down at my thighs
and wonder if i’ll ever find the courage
to see it rushing through
my own veins

We walk the earth just to lie beneath it
So my dear,
Appreciate what you will while you can still see it

i still **** my tummy in,
imagine it smooth.
my mom was surprised when i confessed
i was shirtless,
with nothing but my sports bra.
(at least I’m tan)
you say you like my tummy,
and some days I do too.
i still slap my thighs,
imagine scrawny flesh,
stretch marks are lost among
photoshop wonderland.
i’m an hourglass figure, you say,
but I find it silly we compare body types
to glasses, and fruit,
for we are a combination of things,
we are stars, and seas, and candy,
and railroad tracks that sometimes go around in circles until
we *****.
i still see my limbs as different people,
and i wish i could detach them like the toxins in my lungs.
people like my ***,
so maybe that’s why I move it so much when I’m drunk.
people say I’m Arabic,
people say I’m Mexican,
people say I’m Muslim,
but really I’m all of those combined into a mixing bowl,
and one day maybe, I’ll make cupcakes
and swallow them whole.

darling, do you find me clingy?
you are the first who has stayed for longer then a
week.
you are the first who has spoken to me with truth,
instead of lies intertwined with alcohol and
lust.
so excuse the bite marks, the extensive sighs.
you are the first who has wanted my words,
not the stains within my legs,
or the dampness of my lips.
so excuse my nails that constantly scratch,
excuse the quiver my voice has when you
leave.
you are the first that has said,
“i love you”
and i have actually believed.
you are the first that has said,
“i will stay”
and actually have.

For many years he'd traveled far,
a merchantman by trade.
His Mom passed on while he was gone-
she sleeps there in the glade.
Now he is home with tales to tell
of his trek on the Ocean Blue
but the one face he longed most to see
is not there to tell them to.
So he sat down on his duffel bag
beside her well tended grave,
and spoke his stories of the sea
when others might have prayed.
He left a white carnation there
upon her bed of clay.
It was well watered by the tears
he shed for her that day.
He said his last good byes to us
and turned back for the sea and the shore;
He'd search for peace on Neptune's deep
for Home wasn't home anymore.