I hang onto the edge of your tongue
like a cliff that holds my obituary
written in it's stone structure-
as if every word you speak could change me
or send me flying over the edge-
forever falling, with no sense of security.
I have been bent and broken
and twisted and misconstrued  
into a shape I am no longer familiar with-
I am a mere figment of what once was
a shadow hidden in the dark alleys
and bed sheets of my subconscious.
Who I was is now just a ghost
and when resurrection is a rarity
I'm not sure there's anyway to make it back.
It seems the only time I am enough
is when I am putting on a smile
or kissing the traces of your neck
I left the dark side of myself behind when we first meet.
Seems I am the girl you hide away
inside your bedroom and your sheets.
The girl you sleep with, and sleep next to
but one you never seem to exit your comfort zone for.
I am more than just an everyday routine.
Please, just try for me. That's all I need.
Who I once was isn't who I am now..
So please give me back a fraction
of what I have left behind for you.

I take time to remember that the things which broke me
are also the same things that rebuilt me.
I take time to look at my father
and his reaction when I told him
the hands of time which he had no control over
withered my being with a bottle and made me trust men a little less.
I take time to remind my mother
that my issues with affirmation don't come from
never being in love or being alone a little too much
they come from long work days and even longer nights
spent bickering about the child that I see across the halls
that he sees when he looks into the mirror hating himself.
I take time to remember the wall I had my back pinned against
was cold like the winter seasons I spent hiding away
from torment and never descending vocals
attempting to outshine each other
one backhanded comment at a time-
and that it was never my downfall
never what held me back as person or made me afraid.
My downfall was with each slap in the face
that was literal or figurative I figured it was my fault.
But we can't help the hells in which we face
even if those hells are stained red across our faces
I have felt the pain.
I have remembered every moment I tried so hard to repress
and knew the tragedy it had brought me.
But with each moment of sorrow is another story
another reason my fingers hit these keys
instead of letting someone else hit me
I have seen the thunderstorms and slept under dark clouds
awaiting the moment I get struck by lightening.
Death is imminent, as well as pain and happiness
without them we would never appreciate ourselves
and each of our little hells inside of heads and our bodies
that have spent years waiting for validation.
We don't come with receipts, we are non transferrable.
We are that sweater you hate to love
and those old, raggedy boots that match every outfit
that at the end of the day you couldn't throw away if you tried.
The fight isn't over, it starts inside of us with each breathe we take
and the thoughts and feelings we possess are just soldiers
on the war path to defeat whatever life tries to throw our way.
I don't believe in most things..
but I do believe in me
so why should believing in anything else matter
when you have an entire war raging inside of you
just waiting, patiently for it's moment to attack.

some days I want to die,
lay my intestines out on the line
amongst the shattered pieces of myself,
just for everyone I love to see -
to remind them just how fragile
my bones can be.

some days I love to live,
to dance in the rays of the sunshine
while my feet feel the earth
touching my heart one blade of grass at a time
knowing exactly what it feels like
to be truly alive.

and some days I feel both at the same time,
lonely and aware of all the tragedy
but the sun is shining and the sky is full
with clouds that kiss the blue, kiss my blue-
and then I remember you.

A person should never dictate your happiness,
but what do I do when your mouth is on mute
and the words you do happen to speak to me are short
and unaware of the intensity they have
on these fragile bones I possess.
I can't help but feel like every word or lack there of
is a land mine waiting for my approach,
so caution is my middle name
and I don't know how to explain
these thoughts that race through my mind
and compete in an anxiety induced triathlon-
except to say that I'm scared
one day you'll wake up,
and won't feel the same way..

We ******-

It was my first time,
but... it surely wasn't your first time.
Although it was your first time with me
and it wasn't exactly love making
because though we told each other
"I love you"
I still wasn't sure exactly how to make it,
just how to say it.
You were my first time,
saying I love you and I think that was harder,
than actually ******* you.
And as a poet, these details become stanzas
for others ears to hang onto like a leech,
******* out every last emotion and turning
into a self-sacrifice of one's own interpretation.

You make it soooo easy,
but at the same time you make it so ******* hard.
like the way at times, I can't find the words to rhyme
so I just make these words I speak to you run-on sentences
that never exactly end, just keep going
until i find some other **** to say to you to make you smile,
or **** you off, because i'm actually really good at that
in fact, i love the way you call me out on my *******.
The way I want to dye my hair crazy ******* colors,
but you turn up your nose and tell me no I shouldn't,
which I admire because I would probably regret it.

You're not afraid to tell me how you feel
you don't fear I will flip out or cry or cuss you out,
and I love you for that.
because for so long i've had people
walk around me like I was at the edge of insanity,
waiting until i was pushed to my imminent death.
But baby, you just don't care
because you are on that edge with me
swinging your feet along the side,
lifting your head back and screaming
"man, what a ******* ride."

We made love.
and i'm not sure if we really did,
but ******* it felt like it
because right then
your body was the only one
I ever wanted, ever again.
I'm not sure if that's ******* insane
because I don't believe in forever
and I'm not sure I believe in happily ever after.
But ******* baby, you took the pen from  my hand
and wrote me a novel with your lips across my skin
and made me forget about every single person,
who ripped open my chest, tore my heart out at the seems
and took a piece of me with them.
The story you wrote hasn't ended,
it's still being written
and like a chose your own adventure novel,
i'm not sure where this is gonna go..
or if what I say will send me down a snake hole
poisoning my mind with negativity
or have me fighting off the evil ninjas
out to control my thought process
but ****, i'm willing to risk it
because although i'm not sure where will this will take me,
i'm along for the ride and you have me hooked
with every paragraph and run-on sentence
you trace across my skin.
and like the wise words of Miles Hodges,
"your head was great baby but your mind,
your mind was the night before a revolution."

You were my first,
love, ****, and then love again
and you taught me things
I never thought my mind had the capability of processing.
Yeah, I still hate your ******* ex girl-friends
and your pictures together make my stomach curl,
and if I ever see her out in public that *****...
it doesn't matter,
because I am yours and you are mine
and I am prettier than she is anyways...
****, it doesn't matter
because nothing matters when I am with you
and it's kind of ****** up, in the best way.

I have never felt the loneliness that I do without you,
and I'd like to think that means something special.
You make me write happy poems..
I haven't written a happy poem since I was 9
and I'd like to think that means something special.
I may not be able to dye my hair funky colors,
or pierce my eyebrow
but **** that's just my manic depression talking anyways,
and it's funny because
no matter how much things around me change
or how much I count the days until I fade away.
There's one thing in my mind that stays
and that's the way I feel about you...

We ******-
and it wasn't cute
or tragic like the movies make it out to be.
It was you, and it was me-
and for the first time I felt safe...
No flashbacks or panic attacks,
just your eyes, a little worried
and that's when I kinda knew
I made the right choice
loving you.

take my open wounds and
slice them with the razor blade
that is your tongue and
make me wonder why I stick around.
I can’t help the hells I have faced
and I know what is true.
But you take my tragedy
and tie it to your train of thought
sending it to another place
so you don’t have to deal
or ever feel anything other than
your own ignorant bliss.
i told you in confidence
and got overshadowed by your doubt
and suddenly she became crazy,
which means maybe I am too
because I am a product of my
own inane environment
and how do I separate
from what surrounds me
when it’s all I have left.

I have dealt with the beer can
antics and the intoxicated ignorance
for far too long to just
push it to the back of my mind.
I’m not sure if you’re an *******,
or you have that much trouble
being an empathetic person.
But you will never understand the
tides I have faced or the hells
i have stumbled through
weak and unaware of what’s ahead.
I have been turned into nothing more
than a punching bag for misplaced
anger and a lashing tongue
for pent up aggression
and not i’m not sure if this
is making the wounds I carry heal
over with a skin thats thick as glass
or if the skin i am in is just withering away
with every word you speak to me.
I’m tired of the tragedy,
just give me some sense of normality.

the waves wash over me as the momentum of the minute consoles me
but there is no consolation, no consolidation
I am alone with only my irrationality that leads to sedation.
and when I sleep, dreams don't mean a thing
except lucidity and restlessness and trauma of being.  
But being me is more than just waves and sunsets,
sorry to upset, but I am no daisy or garden
I am uneasy eyes, where everyone is a suspect.
So respect my wishes when I tell you no
Because I know, that no never means yes to me
it means satisfaction to some, sorrow to most
and i'm done being buttered up like your morning toast
with that perfect crunch that you finish like it's your last meal..
My smile is my *** appeal.

So slither your tongue with verbs etched with sin,
and i'll let you paint your picture across my skin.
But this is no love poem, or rhyme scheme rendition
this is what satisfaction looks like when it's written
and I've watched myself die inside a mirror
found myself drowning in a ocean much clearer
but the salt kissed my wounds and my bruises
and reminded me, no one ever loses.
Chances are like a fine wine
followed by slow dancing and slowed time.
& I get confused sometimes with the way
you say my name and then sigh.
Don't say you will leave me
Just say you will love me.
Don't say you will touch me
Just say you will trust me.

because i've never known home until i heard your voices tone,
and I condone most things like kissing your insecurities
and falling in love with your tragedy but baby,
there's so much more to me.
I can see only with one eye because in the other i'm half blind,
but i will never turn a blind eye to the tides of your rise
and even your fall but baby, this is my kryptonite
and my light at the end of this dark dingy dim tunnel,
this all so ******* fundamental, the way you make me mental.
I'm so ******* metal.
Hard as ****, and I **** like I'm hard - to love
but I'm easy - like sunday morning  not easy like,
hormonal and *****, you can take my layers of lust and peel-
My smile is my *** appeal.

I have turned into everything I've ever avoided.
I danced in the moonlit darkness of my father
and soaked in the rays of my mothers tragedy.
Vitamin D is only injected into my bloodstream
by judging eyes and objecting vocals.

I never wanted you to tap dance
around my ribcage or fornicate with my insecurity.
I never wanted you to feel like my eyes
washed over you with judgement day protocol..
I wanted you to be free inside of me
so I could take away every fear and instance
that makes you feel insane
and unchain it from every misinterpretation
hung around your neck.
I wanted to be the one you could save,
so that I could be the one to save you too.

My problems are not found in you
and somehow I found refuge
in my dark tainted past
but i'm tired of that being my excuse
it's my sad reality but I don't want it.
You shouldn't have to break, to fix me.
You shouldn't have to melt
to fit into the cracks you are so busy avoiding.

I have turned into my father,
unpredictable and manic.
I have turn into my mother,
paranoid and problematic.
I don't know exactly who I am,
but i'm sure this isn't it.

I will not be a shining example
of the apple that doesn't fall far from the tree.
I will not be the *** that calls the kettle black...
I am my own destruction but I will rebuild me,
because you shouldn't have to.