raise me from this grave.
I hope the ground stains your hands
from the life you stole.

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.

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.

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.

I crushed the love that was holding me up
it fell through my fingers effortlessly.
I broke your spine, my dear,
and I’m afraid I cannot piece it together.

the bones of it hung in the wind
suspended in kaleidoscope expectations.
I wanted to see things that were simply
not there, grasping at the air.

desires disfiguring the innocent implications,
the shattered glass words cut my mouth.
and there they laid on the table before you,
mangled, mutilated yet beautifully clear.

I almost heard you reason to
prolong this painful charade,
and I almost could not stop
myself asking you to stay.

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

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.

Do not hand me promises of someday, when things are easier, when we are older and have our lives figured out. Somedays do not exist, they are ghosts collecting in the corner of a house falling apart. They keep their mouths tightly closed in thin lines, biting down on the bitter, empty promise. Afraid to open their mouths to let the words once said escape into the air polluted with maybes and laters.
Do not tell me to be careful. Do not lecture me on patience and perfect timing. I am tired. I am nineteen years young and exhausted by each one. Excuse me, taking the knife, cutting to the chase. Erasing the maybes and the if only's off of the notebook paper and photographs littering my bedroom. I will not wait in line. I will not count the seconds to find out a fate that I did not chose. That I did not create. That sneaked up on me in the middle of the night as my dreams were dancing around patient expectations. I will not waste my time.
Do not tell me someday, when we are older. Because, honestly, I do not have a lot of time. I do not expect to stay here much longer.
I am exhausted.

I confess to be terrified
of the tears across the lines
of collecting wasted time,
left in a room full of ghosts.

the spine of this book has broke
and the edges you tucked away
now broken off, leaving frayed
illusions, that this was how it
was. how it's always been.

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 was taught not to expect things.

That boys only want to borrow, not keep.

“YOU WON,” I screamed. The words sliced the inside of my throat as they rushed from my chest, the blood spilt on the table before I could even notice. I had been trying all this time trying to cover the gunshots with band-aids.
And he picked the scabs with fingernails because he knew he held the power. Kissing bruises into my neck and burning his fingerprints onto my collarbones. He was the most dangerous vandal, breaking me into a function only he could benefit from. And I would have paid no mind, for I thought that I was always meant to be his, but you see, he never meant to return. Only to conquer and collect, placed photograph upon many on his bookshelf.
The funny thing is: he was never competing. He never wanted to win because he never wanted to actually have me, just borrow. And he has yet to realize that it is not the anger that is misplaced, but rather the responsibility.
I should have never let myself get that close to the flame.

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.

his cigarette danced the way
my lips wanted to trace the skin
it graced. life is much easier
when the only thing you let in
holds you softly in blurred edges.
let me lift the pain from your chest,
let me be your crutch when the rest
of the whole world won’t stop spinning.

I can blur the edges, you'll see
if you would just let me in.

when his poems are no longer about you
the songs are not yours
and his eyes gaze past your body.

but i'll be ****** if i'm some supporting character in someone else's story.

to hear my name fall from your lips
in the old familiar tone
to have you pull me in
and not walk away.

back to the days that i so miss
when you called me your own
to the times where i wake
to your face the next day.

Does she kiss your hair in the morning with the sleep in your eyes?
And does she whisper how she loves into the sky of grey?
Does she look for your face in the crowds between class?
Thinking how every step further away is another she can’t take back.
Does she read your favorite books in attempt to know you more
And does she sit around and cry for you behind closed doors?

Does she feel a tug as she drives miles away,
Feeling the ache of the space filled with days?
Does she see your face in the bathroom stall?
The mirror’s cracked, but still tells all
Of a girl trying to find a way to live another day.

I carried you with me unknowingly to the places that I went
The corners of the country, you managed to find me then.
I tried to escape with a palm full of pills
But you made me stay against all will
By saying that you loved me.
By saying that you will always love me.

I kissed a boy just to fill the void but he was of no compare
Didn’t set me aflame, he didn’t surround me like the air
But we had wounds all the same, and together we played well
I couldn’t leave myself alone or else I would dwell.
It was a light to distract me, to not let me think of you
But your reflection followed me in his eyes of blue and I cried
For you to just go away.
Why can’t you just go away?

Well the days pile high as the letters collect
Filled with the words that we left unsaid.
But I will not cry for you once more,
For a lost cause, a locked door.
Not for the boy who found another way.

the pain persists as i still miss the days spent in your bed.

i don't know what to do with myself.

I heard your whisper and
it broke, giving way to air.
your shadow’s edges
slowly rot into
the pages’ rips and tears.

the pain persists as i still miss the days spent in your bed.

i don't know what to do with myself.

I found a boy
with blue eyes like yours
and soft words as yours
and a scar on the right side
of his face.

But the way he speaks
and stuns me by a glance
by a smile
as if I have known him for years.

I found a boy
that awoke the shadows inside
that painted my smile
and held my heart.

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.

i can't forgive.
i won't forget.

I still see my hands coming off the railing. I instantly realized that everything in my life that I’d thought was unfixable was totally fixable—except for having just jumped.

I don't know what's wrong with my mind. I have no inspiration. I have nothing. I am nothing.

My living is simply waiting for my death.

Even that seems to be exhausting.

you said you loved me
though i knew the words were not true
but i held on and followed along
always chasing after you.

I have lost everything that matters.

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.

I wrote a poem that is so painful and personal that I'm afraid to even put it on here for anonymous people to read.

i can't forgive.
i won't forget.

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 can't forgive.
i won't forget.