I tread lightly,
hoping not to step on the land mines that surround my subconscious.
Because every step ahead is somehow in the wrong direction
and it seems to me that last thing people want from me,
is my own happiness.

And it's like everything I want to write somehow
crumbles beneath my fingers and I can't grasp
the simple concept of a pen in my hand,
and it seems like whenever I try too hard
nothing turns out the way I want
and when I don't try at all and these words
just pour from my veins
like the slits that used to form on my wrists,
and it's all so ******* beautiful and different.
But when I think, even for a split second,
about the words I want to write down
and how I want to write them
nothing, nothing at all comes out
and I'm tired of not ******* knowing,
anything, everything all the ******* time.

Am I a good writer,
or am I only a good writer in the distress
that life puts upon these shoulders
that are withered and weak
sore from the constant internal abuse,
and the lashes that leave your lips
leave bruises upon my fingertips
and my hand becomes crippled.

I can't ******* write anymore,
and maybe if I could I would feel a little better
about who I am and what I am becoming.
but these fingers, these fingers are mountains
and no one seems to want to take the chance
to climb to the top and see the beautiful view I create.
Not even myself.

I have written, probably over 200 pieces of poetry
since the time I have been 9 years old
and they all sound the ******* same.
stanza stanza stanza stanza
sorrow, mournful, love, depression, more sorrow.
and I don't know how the **** to change.

I'm sorry I don't know how to ******* change,
I wish I could open your eyes to the beauty of it all
but it's only madness and the only beauty of it
is what someone feels they interpret from it.

This love, is not easy
never has been, never will be.
but somehow I never want to lose it,
I never want to let it go.
I want to write everyday,
even when my fingers crumble
under the weight of a heavy pen
and a heavy heart.
I will prosper and write and write
and ******* write again.

This life will not lead to my destruction,
nor will this pen.
The only one who can end my story,
is me.
So get the **** out of my way.

I've traced maps and shorelines across my own skin
to find exactly what it is I mean to you
and I have found it's just a mere puddle.  
The knife in my back pocket
is still a sharp reminder
to always watch where others stand.
Beside or behind you, they're both dangerous places.
I have spent years building mountains
around myself so no one would get close enough
to climb and I turn those mountains into excuses
and somehow let you in.

The heart on my sleeve is worn out like the latest trend
and i'm not too into fashion.
But fasten your paper heart onto mine like a seatbelt
and my tears will disintegrate what is left of it-
Together we will crash and burn.
I have spent my days paranoid and cautious
of what surrounds me and I can't help but wonder
Do all of these pictures I paint with words
even mean anything to you?
Or are they arbitrary and insignificant
like my defense mechanism while looking in the mirror-
my reflection seems to win every time.

You painted your apologies across my lips
and told me I look better without makeup.
I will not fight for your consideration.
I will not mourn over what should be mandatory.

i'm not afraid of heartbreak anymore-
if I do wind up having every inch
of my sanity taken and my heart shattered
I wouldn't blink.
Although my body would tremble
under the crippling weight
from the pressure of your absence
I would pick up my pen
and the blood pumping through my veins
would spill out before me onto a blank page
finally filled with everything I've never said to you.

You can break my heart and I won't blink.
I will harness that pain in my heart
and turn it into something beautiful and painful.
I will cry into a page left weathered with my emotions
but I will pick myself back up and realize that this is art.
You have always been my muse..
and it would be a pleasure
to have my heart broken by you.
To me, you've always been beautiful
even when you weren't on paper.

safety in my mind is a seven letter word
and you may not believe me now
as our bodies are caressing the hands of time
stopping everything in our minds
that could potentially break us both.
Or even when our heartbeats
are directly in sync with one another
redirecting the orchestra of years
that were spent misguided by the ones
who are the reason for our trust issues.
But baby it is you.

I can honestly say I've never felt this way,
because I've written a poem for about
**** near every person I know
but not as many as I've written about you
and my hands as they type for you,
are like a self-portrait for how I feel
except I can't quite get your ****** features right
even if I harnessed every aspect of your beautiful soul
bottled it up and turned it into a collage of color
it still wouldn't do you justice
and I know all poets write about love,
but see the thing is I don't know how to write about love
or if this writing is even right, or if my mind has just left-
because this feeling is far beyond any **** I've ever felt
and I am ******* scared...
but euphoric at the same **** time.

Like falling down and scraping you're knee
while you're running for the ice cream truck,
or like the monster under your bed reaching for your feet
just to give you a candy bar.
I feel like such a kid again.

And your eyes **** your eyes
warp me into a world I've never known
and whisk me off my feet faster than my ability
to even think of what to say in this next line
because I don't know how to make sense of this
and I'm not even sure I want to.
Because if I could explain it in words,
that would take away from the beauty
behind the rarity and the innocence of this madness
and everyone else would try to find it
and harness it into this little jar we call a heart
and live inside of it, never coming out again.

****, ever since my dog died
I thought I would never love again.
Ever since my first boyfriend in eighth grade
took my heart from my chest, polished it
and played hacky sack between him and my best friend
I thought I would never love again.

Looking into your eyes for the very first time
( and I think about this moment every day )
was the most scared I have ever been
mostly because I saw who I really was reflected in them.

Ever since every person of interest,
would leave me for another
I thought the idea of love was stupid.
and ever since I saw my parents
treat each other like ****,
I thought the idea of love was stupid.

But **** did you disprove it.

No one can take this away from me,
except for you.
So if you must take a piece of me
when it comes time for you to go
I ask it be the piece of myself
I saw inside of your eyes
that very first day
because the way you saw me
is the way you've always seen me
and a way that I've never actually seen myself.
I want you to keep that image of me  
because if you go you may never see it again.

I strive for any sense of sanity my body has left
and you could inject lithium into my bloodstream
all you wanted but that will never take away
the stream of conscious to which I face every **** day.
And I speak these words in a volume only sincere ears
could hone into and leech off of for their own sanity,
but things are never that easy.
Affirmation is like a drug and sanity like a ghost
you get addicted to those things in which
we are not usually accustomed to
that sincerity so comforting it's hard to let go.
Most people do drugs to forget,
but ******* with you,
I want to remember every single moment-
harness it inside my memory and save it as draft
so I can post it to my retinas later that night
when I'm loosing sleep because I cannot rid of the ghosts
I've spent both my night and day fighting off.

I want to crash and burn
I want to live a life like all the crazy poets
and authors and writers that never held dear to their sanity
they embraced their madness and embarked on a journey
throwing away any sense of normalcy they had.

But maybe, I should do as you say
or do as my father says-
ya know,  just deal with my problems on my own.
It's kind of crazy because you both say the same thing
which leads me to believe that women do end up
marrying their fathers which I fear-
more than any other obstacle in my life
because my broken wings were built upon my fathers shoulders
and upon mine is more weight than I can carry,
So i'm sorry you've become a muse for my misplaced sanity
and a drawing board for my dilemmas
but baby, you have not seen dramatic.
Not from me at least and it's not safe for me
to hide this part of myself away from you..
But it's like you want me to.
And one day, oh god one day
I will crack under the pressure placed upon these shoulders
and try to fly with these broken wings
and I will crash and burn like alll those people
and it's then I will realize
that hiding away this part of myself
in spite of everything I know,
will be the best and the worst thing I've ever done.

and I'm so ******* tired,
that tired isn't even the word to describe it,
more like futile or unavailing because
I hide away parts of myself for the ones I love
and they itch to come at the surface like a growing tick
ready to explode distracted by euphoria filling it's stomach.
I am not okay, and I'm kind of tired of acting like it.
I am a ticking time bomb
ready to blow your ******* head off at any second
one you will never be able to disable-
and this, this is manic depression.
I wish it was as beautiful as Hendrix made it seem.

you have felt the repercussions of love,
just as I have
but with more passion
than I could ever fathom.
heartbreak has molded you
into this person to whom I confide.

I know not about your past,
but I worry about our future
and if that heartbreak
is always on your mind,
even at times when I’m not.

The one who left you cold and broken
is the one to where my concern stems.
Unfinished business is meant to be completed,
but please don’t break me too.

I would try to write about your eyes
and say all the sappy love **** I can muster
but you are more than that..
I would tell you how you are like a safety net
below a burning building
placed a little too close to the flames
but you are more than that..
I can't describe you exactly,
just like the universe you are ineffable
and just like life you are inexplicable.

I have witnessed my mother
brush swiftly passed never-again
as the contents of the bottle hit her palms.
I have seen the light removed
from my grandmothers eyes
as the life was taken from her lips
but it seems to me, being with you
is the closest to death I've ever been.
I have fought off death's name
with broken knuckles and battered wrists
but this time, only this time-
I think I'll let it win.