told there was a savior
but you found one of your own
floats in the needle
and dances with your bones.
creation is for a god
but you took it in your hands,
perception is your world
and unconscious is your land.

I still wear your jacket
but your smell has fade
I’ve been waiting to move on
but it seems these days
just won’t pass.
and I turn off your song
cause I’m not ready yet
to deal with the pain
you caused when you left.
it won’t go.
it won’t leave me alone.
dancing around in my room,
haunted by memories of you.

you said it was over but it never ended for me.
you said it was over. oh, how I wish it could be.

he told me that something’s changed,
that I didn’t look at him the same.
the light in my eyes has faded away,
darkness taking its place.
he begged for her to come back,
the young girl that smiled and laughed,
running through fields
without a care.

existing in pictures and memories
I’ve been told that girl was me
but she is no longer here.

the sink is rung with blood
and  with crimson on your hands
you smile through your painted mask.

your veneer of kindliness
is cracked, my dear, and our dinner
guests might be able to see through,
to see the real you.

you can mask my bruises in makeup
but lately these wounds have been
getting deep. these cuts are not so shallow
any more and others can see your art.

you painted me like the nighttime sky
in purples and blues, speckled and shaded
into your creation.

my knees are cracked open
and all that you can do
is pour salt from your
pocket to keep the pain anew.

but you have been running out of tricks
and there is nothing within your grasp
to keep the rope around my neck,
to keep me confined in your grasp,
I’m afraid we have reached an end.

I hold down the
sharp edges once again
to allow you a second chance.
they carve their way down,
you don’t care at all
my pain has always been irrelevant.
after all, as you said,
it’s just my medicine.

we could still be
what we wanted to be
after all we’ve been through
I would still let you in.

you are my medicine.

my mother has always told me
that I was like the flu those nine
months she carried my forming
body around. and while many things
about me have changed (my hair
color, my friends, my mental health),
I still burn my path through all
that I do. I can’t help but to consume,
to collect all that I touch, because
I never know how long they will
be mine. I set them all to flames
and enjoy the glow, the embers,
the sound of disintegrating
desires because if I can’t
have it, no one else will either.

I’m so sorry that your fevered body
did not make it. I’m sorry that
when I touched you, your bones
collapsed like the wind absorbing
ashes. but you kissed me on the
ground and what was I to think?
what was I to do but to hold you
so closely that you fell apart to
the floor like a flower?I tried
many times to collect the petals,
but the damage was done.

we were shortly lived,
but we were an inferno.
we were the perfect match
and maybe that’s why
we burnt out so quickly.

if only there was a warning
of your arrival, of the havoc
you would wreak. the trail
of broken bones and
absolute despair you would
leave in your wake.
how good does it feel
to know the power that
you hold? ripping the
bark from the trees,
exposed and vulnerable.
warping and withering
foundations and frames,
the home we were supposed
to have together. it was never
your plan, was it?

let us take those little pills
one by one until we’re gone
from this detached demise,
this passive aggression
that rots this very foundation.
our frame is broken and I’m
afraid these cracks just can’t
be mended. but these charismatic
chemicals that dance through
our veins can blur the rough
ridges. the burn of bourbon
warms our cold shoulders
and suddenly the world
is rosy again. I can’t see
the white flags, but I can
see the glisten of your skin
and the curves of your smile.
the morning may look different,
but tonight we are in love.

I’ve felt like something was wrong with me
for not feeling at all. this flat, heavy indifference
that sits in the pit of my stomach, like whiskey
I haven’t even tasted. so uncomfortable in
this body, this state, like my skin is an
itchy, irritating sweater that I can’t seem
to pull off. I want to feel again. I want
to know what mornings are again. I want
to have this longing for life and experience
that had once made me want to actually
be awake. I’m sleepwalking. constantly
in this blurred phase that makes everything
slower, everything distant. maybe my body
is in shock, protecting me from the flood
of emotions from the empty bedroom you
left behind. maybe this is for the best.

drowned in this sadness, by your very hands.
burning the flesh off my bones
from the hell that I am.

extinguish the flames to revive me again
to drag me back just because you can.
the hour grows old, night turns to day
as you look for another way
to get me to stay.

I crowned you with gold
your heart is harder than stone
yet while you hurt me so much
I miss you when you’re gone.

moving on from you was my hardest task.
is my hardest task. present tense.
my friends’ concern grows with each
day that I spend confined to my room,
each day a word does not pass through
my mouth and they ask me why you were
so special. what about you hooked me.

and it is fair of them to ask cause I would
not expect them to understand the way
the morning sun lit up your eyes.
they’ve never noticed how that curl of your
hair always falls across your face. or
the way the right side of your mouth
raises a little higher than the other when
you’re about to say something sarcastic.
they don’t know how intimidating yet
intriguing you are, that it intoxicated me.
I had to always be near you.

and now you left me here to wake on
my own, to think only about your eyes
and the morning sun and how even you
managed to make 6 am so wonderful.
but you’re not here and the clock reads
1 pm and I still can’t manage to get out
of bed. how can I tell them what I’ve lost?
I’m left with this gaping wound that no one
can see, and drowning in the words I can’t speak.

to wake up to your voice
and to kiss the morning’s
first breath from your lips.
to feel your skin, like crushed
velvet, gliding against mine
under covers, softly lit by
the new day. to remember
your words, to take them
and keep them like a
photograph to take me back
to Saturday mornings with you.

her skin shone like moonstone
as if the universe she held
was able to illuminate her
bedroom as she stood before me.
for so long she was nothing
but a daydream. an unexplored
option that I was too nervous
to venture to. but the way her
hands held mine and how sweet
the *** tasted when it sat on
her lips intoxicated me. I had
to touch her face to assure myself
that she is in fact real. that it
was really her navy blue eyes
that begged me to give in.
she was the most beautiful being
and she was just against my
fingertips. she held my heart
between her teeth, holding
the power to devastate me.
what was there to be afraid of?

he called me the most beautiful
shade of gray, a questioning elegance
that held a mystery he couldn’t resist.
I saw him as the dark nighttime air,
swallowing and suffocating whatever
light was offered. and I told myself
that nothing good could come from
this, from being swallowed whole.
but his hands were so gentle
and his voice soothing that I lost
myself in the night’s embrace.

black is the absorption of all colors.
I found the harder I looked, the more
shades I could dissect. he was an
intoxicating red that coarse through
your veins like a virus. he had deep
blues and purples that you had to be
careful while swimming in, do not
submerge yourself too deeply into
those waters or you yourself would lose
your way. he had colors collected by a
lifetime of aspirations and disappointments
and rejected love and affections.
you could see the cracks in the colors
where he fell too short, before he
was stained by circumstances and
obligations. when he was a white
slate, barely turning gray,
vulnerable and new.

you are an exquisite pain,
an acquired taste for tears.
to love you and to leave unscathed
is like running through the summer forrest
and trying not to be torn by the thistles.
my flesh split to pieces
yet there is more blood to give
and wolves are howling in the distance,
they won’t give up.
the agony, the ache
of the almost that is ‘us’.
to graze something so wonderful
but in the end, fall short.
to love you is to give you my all
and have you still ask for more.
to drain the light from my eyes,
chasing until vanished
and I am left here, in the dark
with no way out.

the hours pass like minutes now
I collect them under the covers
as their pressing persistence
deafens with each dream.
my mother enters the room
in an effort to wake me
from the dead, to try and
mend the broken bones
you yourself left.
why does she have
to clean up your mess?
my own guilt concretes
my chest, paralyzing me further.
to hear my mother’s concern,
her worry. but I have felt
this heartbreak many times
over. your fracture lines are
all over my body, some are
just easier to hide than others.
I stay in bed and dream
of how you stayed. of how
you chose me. back to
Sunday mornings under covers,
our smiles visible by the gray-lit
sky. I can still feel you skin
running beneath my fingertips.
so I stay in my bed. and that
should be none of your concern,
it’s the only way I know
to survive knowing you.

you could store water
in the wells dipped deep
into my neck where
your grip once was.
your hold is too strong,
its weeds choke my lungs,
steals my own words
to replace with your own.
I was your garden
and I felt your hands
uproot my ugly, but you
took the flowers away too.
I stand now, an arboretum
of almosts and painful potential.
you leave me barren so
I have nothing to offer,
nothing of my own.
I wait to claim back
myself, all that I have,
and I am almost ready.

felt your warmth
crawl inside the empty
bones of Springfield
and I offered a sigh
of relief.

it wasn’t home without you
and I couldn’t breathe
without witnessing
a little part of me drifting
away every time.

for a year it sat as
a museum.
and for a year I tried
to trace our old paths
but the streets were
no longer familiar.

it was an empty house
my empty house
that I had once lived in
and each weekend I
would return to it,
trying to figure out
where everything
once was.

lick my lips
to see if my words are real.
you claw my flesh
to see if I’m standing before you.
you tell me lies
to take me through the night
and you wonder why
I just can’t seem to shake you.

Rehearsal’s meant for perfection, but this is another stage.The act of doing. Blinded by the spotlight, struck still by the paralyzing heartbeat in my throat. And this is not the first time that I have been here, I am not proud to say. And I am unsure of which part I am more ashamed of: the fact that I felt the need to do, or that I lacked the courage to follow through. So here we are again, brought together by the forces of the wind. Being pulled together by the strings of our hearts, playing each other in the selfish game this has always been. It’s physics, no matter how far we run from each other, no matter how much blood was shed when I tried to cut you free, no matter how many cold shoulders we rested on at night; we always return to the same place, this same state. A vicious cycle that every time steals more and more of my sanity. I feel it slip through my fingers quicker each time and I claw and I claw my way to regain it, but there you are, holding it in your hand. A trophy. You’ve claimed everything of mine; maybe it was unknowingly so. But I have no tears left to shed, ducts dried and shriveled. I have not felt the knife of anger and sadness in my side for a long time, nor the relief of laughter and happiness; even on Friday nights when I’m laying next to you, under your covers. Just this terrible, aching numbness. This inhumane indifference that curdles at the pit of my stomach. I cannot daydream because I always somehow return back to you. And most nights I can’t fall asleep, but I’m more so afraid to. Of believing that you really are in front of me, brushing the hair out of my face and kissing my neck, just to wake up to a bed filled with haunting memories and a body aching with the desire to be held.
This cycle has to come to an end, and here we are. I stand there before you, silver blade of the knife shining from my hand. For the first time in an entire year, I finally evoke emotion. Your eyes grow wide with shock and fear like I’ve never seen before. I’m sure a while ago, accomplishment would have coursed through me. But I am only here to end this. To end your prolonged chapter of my life; overdue.
Give me an hour or so, I could name all the wrongdoings you’ve ever done. I could document and chronicle the periods of pain that have filled these past two years of my life, only to be broken by short bursts of shallow happiness. Although this is all true, I still love you. And I know once I walk away from here, the thought of you will continue to haunt every step of my life. Only worse, there would be no possibility of ever seeing you again.
There is no freedom from you in this world. Miles away, everything still reminds me of you. There is no killing you.
So I looked into your eyes, one last time, as I drew the blade through my throat.

I could tell you what it’s like
to hold your breath for 4 years,
since I know you have no clue.
and I could tell you how it felt
when I watched you walk out that door
how the words sliced my throat,
begging you to stay.
you saw the blood coughed up before me
how it was killing me.
but it didn’t slow your pace.

I could tell you how our room looked
after you stained it red
and how the sun never managed
to find the windows.
I memorized the steps
from the light switch to the bed
because that’s where my world existed
for weeks on end.

I cut off my friends
because I couldn’t handle
them asking about you.
what explanation do they want?
you didn’t want to stay.
I wasn’t worth it.
our friendship wasn’t worth it.
you just wanted to **** other girls.

could you tell me how mornings are?
cause I haven’t seen one in so long.
I can never seem to wipe the sleep from my eyes.
could you share the secret to not caring?
you seem to have it down to an art.
I always hold on to things too tightly
and they end up falling apart.
do you hurt at all
when you walk across
the shattered pieces
of what we had?
cause I’ve been picking
shards from my feet for years.

do you love her?
was she worth it?
does she help you forget
the person you left behind?

there you were
holding me under the sea.
sunlight dancing
through each wave that crushes me.
you claimed you’ve tried
to keep my balance just right
but it was your hands
keeping me down every time.
my concrete feet
do not need help from your grasp.
underwater, convinced
every breath was my last.
I feel your shadow
hovering over me
yet I can’t shake you
can’t find a way to be free.
you colored my flesh
your fingerprints all over me
but I still find a way to love you
as I’m stuck here, swallowing sea.

tell me how you miss me
I love how sweet that sounds.
as you kiss her neck
as you lick her sweat.
you hate how she says your name
and how her lips taste like wine.
you hate her blue eyes
you hate how they’re not mine.

and you say you miss me.
isn’t that just sweet?
but you’ve made your choice
and your choice wasn’t me.

you say "**** it"
and you leave me at the bar.
I can see the first cigarette
you've had in weeks
being lit in the post-midnight
Joplin air.
and I toss my head back
and let ***** hug my veins
and rock me into the space
where all the edges are soft
and the air is twice as thick,
making the space between
the bar and the sidewalk
that much apparent.

I thought he was mine.
I was so stupid,
I thought he was mine
When he held my sleeping body,
When he swept my hair and kissed my forehead.
I thought he was mine
When we ran away to cemeteries
And watched the stars until
Our eyes were no match for sleep.
I thought he was mine
When I realized I was falling for my best friend,
For someone who took the time
To peel away the bark to see what
Was living beneath the exterior.

You told me we needed space
You told me that you couldn't do this
And I didn't worry,
You would come back to me.
You had to because
You are mine and I am yours
But it's been two years
Since you left me here, exposed.

I am not graceful. I am not dangerous. I do not know many words and I have not seen many places. I am limited by my own normality that nearly borderlines ignorance.

I am bruised thighs and too-short nails. I am scarred wrists peeking out beneath sleeves and the uncomfortable shift of those around me.

I am flat notes sung and misinterpreted sentences that go on without correction.

I am a writer that has nothing to say. Always standing on Sunday night's edge. There is so much potential to be held but it so often falls through fingertips.

I am his placeholder. And when I leave, it will not hurt as badly as those before me because I am forever--always--temporary.

document  the hours passed
with the emptying bourbon glass
you told me that you don’t like bars
so I left in the back seat of your car
I told myself that I wouldn’t drink this much tonight.
but tonight you won’t stop looking at me
you won’t stop tracing my cheek
and I wouldn’t want you to anyways.
I wonder when the neighbors will wake up
will they still have rings of their makeup
pressed onto their lover’s neck?

I thought I wanted to stay 18 forever
but then we wouldn’t have a forever
in the living room, sipping whiskey on your couch
waiting for the world to just slow down.
but if you could stop to listen
you could hear everyone’s existence
balancing delicately on the seconds running by.
our forever is tonight.

don't think I forgot
the vinegar pull
throughout your veins.

and how it won
every time it was
against me.

you had to escape
but you left me behind.

I feel that maybe the only way for people to take me seriously is to actually do it.

That it will finally validate my sadness and finally it wouldn't just be 'all in my head.'

Maybe then people will feel their obligation.

I'm sorry
that I thought
you liked me
when I was laying
on the ground
and you kissed me.

My bad.

now you’re just a reflection, the anxious
itch of addiction, the exhausted ache of
alcohol drowning my veins into a subdued
state. you are the moaning of each muscle,
reminding me of how difficult it is to simply exist.
you are the inferno engulfing my chest as
bourbon fuels the flames of the hell that
I am. you are the angry, crimson cuts collecting
over my arms and legs because physical pain
is so much easier than the empty bed you
left behind. you are the approaching decision
of whether to sink or swim. and I am so scared
of choosing either one.

with detachment, he stole my world.
the very breath from my lungs,
leaving only the hollow ache in my ribs
and mourning holding my bones on fingertips.
our room is silent now. and you told me it
would no longer be ‘our’ room. but only
after you stained it red with hollow intentions
and empty promises. the memories, your
voice is a deafening numb that pulses through
my ears constantly reminding me of the weight
of your absence. the dark shades that hang
from my eyes rock me to sleep as your
voice sings Moon River.  
memory has never failed me until I try
to recall our last kiss, the last truth from
your lips. because I can’t remember how
your smile tasted or the gentle glide of
your hands but their scars are all over
my body and they won’t let me rest.

eyes meet
no way to escape this time
no constructed lies
all I ask is
to cut loose before your word falls through
before their demise
please just leave.

here’s to the grey-lit sunday’s
and the hours you called me on the phone
and here’s to the nights together
where it finally felt like home.
here’s to all your new lovers
and how they all look like me
and here’s to my shattered bones,
how they refuse to break cleanly.

you took what you came for
with no regard for the pain
it was never of your concern
you just came here to ****.
you drug me through circles
till there was nothing left of me
I’m left with an unrecognizable shell
you took everything.

I’ve been holding, breathing in your skin
Breathing your words, breathing your sins.
When you’re walking your shadow away from me
Knowing you’ll be there tonight in my dreams.

But this time I have decided
You’re not longer welcomed in my head
No longer tangled in my words
No longer hoping for the worst.

I’ve been holding your bones along
To the words of this tired song
Stuck in circles, stuck in replay
Time to move on but I’m oh-so afraid.

And it has been decided
To leave these thoughts in my head
You need’ t hear the words left for dead
My love is for the broken
My love is best unspoken.

And it has been decided
I’m no longer your wanted sidekick
No longer the girl you write of
No longer the girl that you loved.

There is no way you could love me if you knew me.
It is not possible to be so self-inflicted
These wounds you dig yourself
But your blood is under my nails.
There is no way you could love me
Love this disease that is in my head
Selfish, consumingly distain my mind
Don’t kiss my scars
You’re only opening them again
Don’t tell me they will heal
Because time has never been my friend.
Don’t love me.
Don’t destroy yourself like this.
Don’t let me do this to you.
Leave while there is still color in your mornings
And cramping smiles in company.
Leave while you can still taste food
While you still have a reason to be awake.
Don’t let me ruin you.

I learned to never really talk about it
to take what I can and hide from the light
to feel my face crack beneath my skin.
drunken words escape from half shut eyes.

smoke settles in your shadow
but only I know
about the face behind the mask.
consuming fires were never meant to last
burnt out cause we were the perfect match.

stuck in an endless circle
having no interest in the destination
yet here I am, moving forward

I wish I had the courage
to choose myself.

there is bravery in normality
but for me, I am just
blending in.
I don't want to make a fuss.

you don't need me the way I need you, love
your heartstrings don't strain with time.
you don't need my taste in your mouth
but I need yours in mine.

so early we caught fire, as if we were one
you run through my veins like disease
but I can tell your lungs don't collapse
like you can't breathe
with every step you take from me.

you are fall
you are the absence of warmth on early morning with sleep in my eyes
the teasing sunshine that makes rare appearances
the gray from my lips as I let go of unspoken words.
when you come, I have to hide more of myself.
exposing myself to you has grown so uncomfortable.

you let everything die
and not in the merciful manner of winter, not swiftly,
but drawn out.
early nights and denial of light
I find myself always wondering the alleyways alone.
death has never been so beautifully colored
I have never dreaded October so much.

he pulled the stitches
around my scars
and they fell undone
in his hands, beautifully
laced between his fingers.
he kissed away the bruises
the blemished story of
my skin. the scathed
remnants are all i have.
the gentle touch of
his goodbye. the hand
clasped around my neck
tightens with each step
he takes away from me.
please stay.

i can breathe the smoke
from your lungs
drink the bourbon
from your tongue.

just promise your hands
will never leave my hips
and to keep kissing laughter
across my lips.

my dear, continue whispering
'i love you' into my hair.
and for it to be your voice
that breaks the morning air.

and if you ever change your mind,
to leave with the next sun,
promise to break my heart gently,
my love, i have only one.

He was like reading a book
at the kitchen table, while waiting
for the kettle to boil, and the
blinds letting in just enough light
as to not disturb the cat (if you have
a cat) in its peaceful slumber
on the counter, next to the flowers
you have set out.
That overwhelming sense of
home before the eeriness of too much
silence crept up on you, and you’d
have to move because suddenly the
air no longer held the serene
feeling it had only a moment ago.

He was danger. But you loved it.
Because he kept you on edge,
that alert he made you feel.
Your sudden awareness to everything.

He made you feel so ******* alive.

But he leaves, almost too quickly.
Like sunlight behind the clouds,
and as abrupt as the screeching
of steam as water boils.

And you realize he doesn’t
quite feel the same way you do

he was the storm
he was my fire
he was the wave
of pain.

he was my calm
the deafening quiet
stripped of my bones
i hang.
i can be strong
i will outrun him
i will win
his game.

eyes meet
no way to escape this time
no constructed lies
all I ask is
to cut loose before your word falls through
before their demise
please just leave.

He hates the way that I take pictures everywhere we go. He tells me I am too distracted, that I need to learn to live in the moment, to enjoy it. But he doesn't know that my heart is overflowing with excitement and joy that I am rarely ever granted. My days are mostly void of color, of feeling, that sometimes I doubt whether I am actually alive. He doesn't understand that I carry my camera around to freeze these colorful moments, to stick them in my pocket for days that I can't even see the sun through my window. So I can remember what life was like not black and white.

I see you in alleyways
and in the sunshine in his hair
I beg for the grace to forget you
but that would only be too fair.

you held me like the empty promises
that slid through the cracks
you said I clung too closely
before you broke my back

the air glides beautifully
between your teeth,
to kiss the sighs right off
your lips, trace the carvings of
your cheek.

i never knew love
could feel so young
hidden touches under blankets
falling asleep with
the rising sun.

i never knew you
would be the one
to fix these broken pieces
to heal each scar with
just your touch