driving down a windy road 35 miles per hour at seven thirty in the evening with flowers and balloons in the back seat shouldn't have ended with me being suspended sideways for thirty minutes while they tried to make it safe to get me out of what was left of my first car and no matter how many times i draw a bath i can't get rid of the feeling of my left hand covered in my own blood and the small slivers of glass that are still in my hands or the swollen over-sized bruises that adorn my legs and my face  

and regardless of the scent of lavender and apples i cant look at my damaged body anymore

did you ever really love me at all?

i guess it was sort of ironic as it's a place where people to go to be treated that they couldn't properly take care of a plant. it may not have been their fault, but it was odd to see shriveled up leaves on top of the *** full of dirt, and a bamboo stick pointing up to give direction to what was no longer there. the *** itself was colorful, adorned in hues of red and blue to give hints toward the life that was once there, and maybe that's what i do for myself. i adorn myself in hues of purple, green, blue to imply a liveliness that i no longer feel deep within. to cover up an emptiness that once held some form of life, some form of happiness and innocence. it's not like i've had it hard, i mean, things haven't been absolutely bright and sunny but i haven't experienced great loss but somehow i have lost myself. it's an odd feeling, because i know i will be okay and that everything will turn out just fine but i can't believe that in my heart and i just can't feel okay. and maybe that's fine. it's healthier to express an emotion than to cover it up and hide it, because it will build upon itself until you can no longer withstand the weight and oh, god, i know how it feels to tremble and crumble underneath the weight of unfelt emotions.

but is this better?

i look to extremes to cure the numbness in my chest and i can't care if it's good for me or not.

it's the difference between
you're so awesome and
you're so interesting

it's the difference between
a compliment
and whistling at me in public

yes i express myself
yes i am noticeable
no i don't want you to touch me

yes i express myself
yes i am noticeable
no i don't need your opinion

it's not okay to kiss me
touch me
***** me
pet me
without permission

and it's not okay
that to avoid these gestures
i have to change
my expression

i think you're perfect
but i don't think we would be
your personality is softer
but your feelings and actions
are much harsher

if i were raised a little less like my mother
wanted me to be
showing me what not to do
as she placed the cigarette between her lips
maybe we would have been more alike

i know your internal struggles and feelings
all too well
as they are ones i've experienced before
and experience now

although your friends problems seem
all too real
as compared to mine
which are all in my head

i know this is just what i'm like because this is how i've felt every time i've gotten emotionally close to someone and i don't want to tell you what's wrong and i don't want to admit that i am sad inside because you like me well enough as it is and i don't want to ruin that. i don't want you to worry about me because i know i'll be fine and i'll be better and this sadness i've felt inside for the past six years doesn't define me and doesn't determine whether or not i should be loved. if anything love is something i know i deserve and maybe will help the effects the sadness has on me but i know how it feels to be hurt and my mind tries to pick and choose certain moments to try and disprove everything that you've told me because how? i look in the mirror and i can't see what you see and although that doesn't mean it isn't there they say seeing is believing and how can i believe something i don't see? my legs ache and my stomach hurts and the emptiness in my chest wants me, begs me to find some sort of control and i can't. this isn't something that is able to be controlled or manipulated. it happens or it doesn't, and that's just it.

it's safe to say that i do believe in soul mates
and you're the closest i've found
through feelings and thoughts and weather and boys
you'll be a constant source of comfort and reassurance
as we brace the cold front of adulthood together
and bare our souls out to each other
during dark and drunken nights
to the tune of top 20 pop music
and you're the only one
i've found safe
to consider
forever with

you get on my last nerve
you never want to talk to me
you tell me i'm your best friend
then you completely ******* off
for someone better

i really want to hate you
we've been friends for too long
but you never notice when i'm angry
you don't care when i'm upset
you're not there when i need you

but oh god
when you're drunk
off of tequila sunrise
and i'm drunk
off of a margarita
i love the way you want me

as i stand, naked, before a full length mirror
i look at myself in confusion
and i desperately search for why
in every crease and line
throughout every dimple and bone
in between the spider veins and stretch marks
pale skin and scars
this isn't beauty

as i lay, naked, in the warmth of your arms
i look at you with sincerity
and i calmly understand why
in every crease and line
throughout every dimple and bone
in between your blonde hair and blue eyes
pale skin and scars
this is beauty

Internal conflict is a mental or emotional struggle that occurs within a character
External conflict is a struggle that occurs between a character and outside forces, which could be another character or the environment.*

what i want vs. what is safe
what i need vs. what i want
what i think vs. what i know

and i don't know much other than what i've been told
but it's hardest to tell if what i'm told is the truth
or the shadows of what i want to be the truth
and what you want me to think

and i want you to want me to think
i want you to want to permeate my thoughts
crack open my sternum and pick apart my little ribs
and find your way into my heart

i don't want to date you
you're unemotional
walled off
if we were going to connect
we would have already

you don't put much effort
you don't respond to my messages
although i try to be there
a constant variable
for you

i understand that you don't mean it
to be a negative thing
it's just how you are
you see everything i send
and sometimes you mention them to me
whenever i make enough effort
to get you to see me

regardless of how understanding i can be
i don't want to keep you
i don't want to own you
i don't want you to be mine

i just want to feel your lips against my neck
and your nails dragging harshly across my skin

oh if only you knew
i would give anything
anything to be
anything other than me

freckled knees
freckled shoulders
freckled arms

"why are you so pale?
you look like you're dead
have you tried getting a tan?"

the irony stings my burned shoulders,

yes i have tried.

yellowed bruises remain on my thighs,
the thighs that got me called fat
in the seventh grade

"have you ever noticed
she's kinda fat? i mean
her thighs are so big,
they're like thunder thighs"

and from that statement a nickname was coined
that caused me to desperately,
desperately,
need to be skinnier
and i'll never be enough

"darling, are you okay?
please take this
go home and eat a big dinner
the wind is going to blow you away!"

i don't think i can ever win

red blood cells live for about four months
white blood cells can live for over a year
skin cells live about two to three weeks

slowly, hour by hour
day by day
week by week
month by month
year by year
my body will die and replace itself

and surely enough
some day
eventually
i will have a body you never touched
and hair you never pulled

pacing back and forth
in shoes not meant for walking
until my heels bleed

drinking caffeine to stay awake
and letting the caffeine make me shake
as it hits an empty stomach

allowing missed calls to go to voicemail
because i'm not prepared to take them

staying up until 4:33
to avoid the offers of death my dreams give me

it's not real
none of it's real
but i have to stay awake
drink caffeine that makes me shake
and bathe in the sunrise

pink hearts and red flowers are easily handled
movie tickets and sun exposure
in the name of seeing one another
for a little bit longer

dinner dates and meeting my mother
holding each other for hour upon hour
under the impression that things
might be okay

and my ribcage is disappearing
underneath layers and layers of good intention
and i can feel the masks withering and cracking
and i am scared

you're so pretty
did you know that?
your hair is soft
your eyes are soft
your skin is soft
your voice
your movement
your disposition
is soft

you're so pretty
i can't comprehend the fact
that you would ever want
to be like me

you're so pretty
it would be nice
to hold you a while
maybe watch a tv show
or a movie

you're so pretty
i really want to know you
inside out
your fears, your ambitions
your loves, your hates
you
all of you

every
last
detail

it's still too warm to wear a sweater
but i'm wearing yours anyway
because i'd rather be too hot
than be without your comfort

sensually wrapped in thin skin
barely enough to hold anything in
she gave you all she had
and you wonder why she's left mad
when you couldn't appreciate anything more
than the curves of her body and the way she tore
her clothes off for you,
and you have no clue
the world wasn't made with you at the center
and you can't hold her down until you find better
to suit your tastes and wants and desire
and now she's on fire, fire, fire
her trust is gone

it's hard to face the eternal grandeur of the cosmos
where every dark, empty space is full of mysteries
that are unfathomable distances away


i wonder if the star i'm looking at tonight
in the space on it's left, a couple million light years past
has a planet with a being
who feels the same things i do
while looking at the sky

i'm ******* honored
to be the exception

to be the only girl
you think is cute
with short hair
because of your stupid generalized rule
that short hair is unattractive

*******
and **** that your compliments
no matter how backwards
still make me happy

Sent Jun 29th, 12:10am

i just want someone to want me
to fall in love with my personality
and not the temporary
aspects of me

it doesn't have to be romantic
i'd get them myself if i could
just a big, bunch of flowers
it's very easily understood

because it would make me happy
it's a gift full of life
they don't have to mean much
only to be bright
beautiful, lively
and they only last a while
which makes their presence much sweeter
their time is limited,
but i enjoy them infinitely
and the life they breathe into my lungs

and it'd be nice to know that you're thinking of me, and you just wanted to buy me flowers

The way I hate you washes over me in waves. The weight of the water crushes my rib cage, and I want to scream louder than I've ever screamed before.

The way I love you tears at me from the inside out. My heart bursts under the pressure of the pain you've given me, and I want to scream louder than I've ever screamed before.

Physical pain is incomparable to this.

i suppose there is a lot of unsung symbolism in giving someone a plant, as plants have become an average gift to give in occasions of celebration, such as moving into a new home or graduating from school.

every moment i am with you is a cause for celebration.
you are a celebration.

no matter how many plants i can give you to put on the windowsill in your bedroom will symbolize the celebration i feel in knowing you to it's true color.

because i feel fireworks in my chest brighter and louder than the ones we kissed under and i feel happier and bubblier with you than drinking the alcohol i like to drink too much of and you give me more pleasant thoughts than the color i chose to paint the walls of my bedroom

and no matter how many poems i write
and no matter how many words i say
none of them quite amount to the sheer immensity of what i feel for you

She brewed herself a cup of coffee,
her husband already fed.
Sent off into the horizon
with provisions and well wishes
and kind professions of love
to keep his heart warm.

She brewed herself a cup of coffee.
She'd lain in bed an extra hour,
Awake,
hands reaching to the spot where her husband belongs.
She sips on her coffee
two sugars, splash of cream,
and stares at the bleak horizon.

She brewed herself another cup of coffee,
she wasn't going to sleep anyway.
The rain pours and pours, the wind rattles the windows
and her fragile frame.
She tries to quiet her thoughts with reading
and she lays on the right side of the bed.

She brews herself another cup of coffee,
and it tastes extra bitter,
but it's the coffee she's always had.
She sleeps on the left side, as always
just in case.

it's a faded blue color, pressed from being unworn
when i last wore it i was a different me
and i been many different people in between
along a natural path to find myself
i've done unnatural things,
said several things that i would never let pass
my lips again.

i've learned and i've grown, most awkwardly shown
in a faded blue dress in the back of my closet
now hugs curves that weren't there for the last
girl who wore it, and a few inches shorter

the girl back then wouldn't dare to do the things i've done alone with you,
and she wouldn't let herself feel what i feel for you, too

and she would blush at the words and the steam in the air in the back seat of my car.

i haven't looked in your eyes in so long i forgot how once they could make me barely breathe,
and how many times did we watch the sunset together?
but you never really watched the sun,

because i was the sun to you.

a boy was mean to me today
my mother gave me a hug
and told me it will be okay
they deserve each other anyway

i didn't fall asleep in math today
i swear to god it's a miracle
i'm not failing that class
though my efforts make me feel that way

one pill to take the edge off
one pill to calm me down
one pill to make me feel better
one pill to make me drown

to drown in the feelings of nothing
to make it easier to sleep
to keep away the dreams
the nightmares
the thoughts of you

please leave me be

i've never been good at sudoku
i erased all the numbers to start again
how i wish i could erase all of my feelings
that easily

my pencils have no erasers anymore
and i think that's ironic
and symbolic
for how many mistakes i make
on paper
in life
with you
with me

one pill to take the edge off
one pill to calm me down
one pill to make me feel better
one pill to make me drown

i begin to feel light
i begin to feel soft
i begin to feel bright
maybe i won't dream
maybe i will sleep
          through the night

please leave me be

your external self has changed greatly,
but i will always know you.
you may feel your new friends and cigarettes
have changed you,
but you're still the same boy i know so well
even when you're high.

The rose captain knows my name
This perfume breath I breathed
For you my dear, my love will never leave*

dear love of old,
they say absence makes the heart grow fonder
but as i've separated myself from you
my feelings have only become colder
i used to adore every part of you
but now as we get older
i see that my rose tinted vision
wouldn't let me listen
to what i should have realized sooner:
you're only out to hurt me
even if it's unintentionally
the kind of you and the kind of me
are, truly, never meant to be
and it's not a flaw on us, you see
it's just something that is
like the tides of the ocean
dictated by the moon
and the cycles of life
we all must endure.

dear love of new,
we haven't faced much hardship or strife
since we have crossed paths in this life
our lives are young, and we are fun
and we've been hurt too much
we confide our sorrows
and look toward tomorrows
with optimistic views
and watch the news
in hopes that things will get better.
but for us, things are on the ups
because we have found one another
and things are simple,
things are fun,
and my feelings for you make me want to run
through green meadows and pick flowers
and you make me think
that things could be okay
and i will be okay

i bite my nails
and i bite my lips

my room is a mess
and i pick at dead skin

i look in the mirror when i
first wake up
and right before bed

i fall too hard
and i bruise too easily

and i write about boys
who will never love me

it's impossible to not want to be kissing you every second that i'm with you
but i also love hearing your voice and your stories (good and bad)

i want to know everything about you
i want to know your mind
and the curve of your spine
better than the back of my hand
and i want to trace every line and crease of you
with the tips of my fingers
and i want to memorize your favorite things
so i can know you better
than i've known anyone else

you said you couldn't
fall in love

did you mean
with me
or someone else?

i would like to think there's
some kind of hope
some kind of light
some kind of love
that we can share
when we are less
broken

i don't want to fix you
but maybe
i can help you
to pick up the pieces
and buy the glue
that i know will work
because i have
used it
before

i am her
predictor of the future
meticulous as a clock,
and as complicated too.
alone with my thoughts
you can faintly hear ticking
as i process what's to come.

affected by the past,
evidence and data shows
my next possible steps.
creator of a five year plan
to leave this town for fog,
ocean,
and small bookstores.
my skin is dry as i waste time
planning on how to save it.

i've researched career options,
tuition, moving, housing costs
for the best way to leave
the best way to live
in unfamiliar streets with unfamiliar faces
and have enough to pay for my coffee


you are him
predictor of the present
carer for the now, the what is
uplifted and bold
and impulsive as hell

i worry for your health
and for your broken seat belt
you worry for mine
and how my heart hurts

but my future couldn't keep you down,
and what we had slipped through my fingers like water
and for two people who could never really be
we tried so ******* hard.

the best way to tell when you're in love is to look up at the vastness of the stars and think of the things tying you to the earth.

the force of gravity, sure, if we're being technical, but what is keeping your soul here?

your movie rental late fees and your brakes squeaking and the bruises on your legs seem like nothing compared to your innermost desires projected on the cold night sky

and when I looked up, I thought of you holding my hand.

I am my own worst enemy
I am my own bully, my disease,
I only see in mirrors.

The only way to get rid of her is to get rid of me.
The only way to fight back is to fight myself.
the only way to hurt her is to hurt myself.

I drown her out with ***** on weekday nights and weekday mornings I put on my powdered sugar mask and hide from her cruelties and casualties

My body shakes and shivers in the middle of the night and I fight and I fight for something that is better than this

I've lived a life without emotion
Repressed feelings and thoughts
But nothing can hold so tightly to anger
As my whitened knuckles can,
absolutely desperate to not let go.

I once knew a girl named Mary
With long blonde curls and dark brown eyes
She knows the depths of me that no one reaches
I wonder if she can remember me,

and I wonder if she writes

nothing compares to the empty feeling
that you've left inside of me.
you tell me lovely words,
and then leave me alone
to my own thoughts and creations
i never wanted to love you
but here we are
here i am
alone and confused
and i can't tell you
oh no, no way
you'll judge me
hate me
the way you do to my opinions
my dreams, wishes
my thoughts
you're no good
not for me
not at all
a bad friend
a worse lover
but wow, if i could change you
now wouldn't that be something
make you kinder, more open,
more willing to talk to me,
like you once did
more understanding, more caring
less cold and distant
less painful and agonizing
more appreciative and mannerly
and maybe if you made me cry
a little bit less
with your take take take
and only enough give
to make me crave more and more

wow, if i could change you
now wouldn't that be something

heads
i love you
i really do
i listen to music that reminds me of you
and think about the good times

tails*
i hate you
i really do
i listen to music that reminds me of you
and cry about the good times

although i'm not in love with you anymore
i still think about you fondly in my dreams

you've got me sitting
alone
in my room
listening to the music you like
trying to figure you out
trying to decide if you like me
if you want me

my mother says
"he probably doesn't know either"

and i'm frustrated
because someone has to
someone has to understand
and i don't
and i have to
i have to understand
you're a puzzle i can't solve
is this something i'm doing to myself?
nothing is as analytical as i need it to be
your tones of gray are confusing me
and i can't find a way to organize
the things you say to me

but to say i don't enjoy the task
would be a lie
because it does, in fact,
make me feel alive
i want you to want me,
that's very true
but it won't be easy
to convince me
that it's okay to want you

i miss
         the smell of your hair
         the texture of your skin
         your arms around my waist
         the music you would play
         the comfort of your bed
         your hand on my thigh
         the safety in your eyes
         the cupcakes on my porch
         your slightly curved spine
         the way you shout my name
         the way you text me where i am
         your fingers around my neck
         the bruises on my ribs
         the pain in my shoulders
         your fists against my skin

there's nothing quite like
a blood soaked sweater
and a near death experience
to put in perspective
i deserve so much more

He looked back into his childhood, back into the dusty, rural town he grew up in. It was a sparse and boring place, houses separated by large fields and the roads into the town proper were just dirt. Even though the town itself didn't have much to offer him, these years were the ones he looked back on most fondly. He would spent hours in the dark attic with a flashlight, reading dusty old books a father he never knew left for him. That, and the pictures left behind were the only connections he had to the man.  They had the same ears.

Warning, 25%

He was raised by his lonely mother, who did the best she could to provide for his insatiable curiosity, but he still occasionally saw the deep sadness in her eyes, especially when she looked out the windows. She never seemed to be looking at anything in particular.  She always made sure he had plenty of books to read, as he went through them as most young boys go through pants. His mother was very proud of her son, who every day was looking more and more like his father.

Warning, 20%

He didn't make friends very easily, but he never felt he needed them. Knowledge was the only thing he really wanted, so it wasn't a surprise to anyone when he worked as hard as he could to get into the best college available. He studied and studied and studied, and somehow in between he met his wife there. She was the most beautiful creature he'd ever met, and he loved her dearly. He did, didn't he?

Warning, 15%

They had a son together, and he loved his family, but nothing could have ever interfered with his love for the unknown. And what's the greatest unknown there is? Space, of course! Any time he didn't spend reading was usually spent staring at the dark, light spotted sky. It wasn't long until all of his texts were replaced with astronomy textbooks and journals, and his family no longer had any hope of reaching him.

Warning, 10%

He'd always felt out of place. He never craved the affection of others, and as a result he never experienced what it felt like to be home. It never really bothered him though, because he was too busy reading and studying and learning. Now though, he wonders if it was really a taste for knowledge, or actually just a search for home.

Warning, 5%

He stared off into the darkness all around him, nothing to touched for millions upon millions of miles. He drifted endlessly through the dark, with small lights surrounding him. He took a deep breath.

Finally, he was home.

it's the memory of a time
stripped down to my underwear
wrapped in your bedding
wrapped in your arms
the closeness we shared,
the laughter
and the happiness
that i want to relive

maybe only momentarily
and very rose-tinted
i want to feel you again

the back of my throat scratches as a smile is forced deep into the muscles on my face, taking along with it ounces of the strength I have left

It's draining, it really is,
watching the spiral of water go down the drain, stained by my hair dye, reminiscent of what used to be

Days used to be easier than they are now, but they also used to be harder

Time passes anyway.

when 815 miles becomes 2214.5 miles
and 10 miles becomes 478.3
at least i know i'll still have you here with me
because with everyone's lives continuing
and ours not
i have a vague hope that
you'll be forced to try
and be here for me

(and it's probably the saddest thought
that you are the closest
that you are staying
but i miss you the most)

my body has begun
to bear the weight
you've put on my mind

i don't know how i got
these scratches and bruises
but i'm blaming you

it's easier that way

your close friends are leaving you soon

and i don't know if i'll be here when they do

unless you clean up your act real quick

there's not much else i can do

because i'm going to love me before i love you

I'm trying to wash you away but I can't seem to get clean again and my eyes burn when I think of you and how you treated me like some piece of furniture instead of a complex being with thought and how you used me for your own personal physical emotional gains and I deleted all the pictures on my phone and I've hidden you everywhere I can but inside you're fighting back and I don't know where to put this feeling anymore.

i've actively avoided
listening to the music
that my father used to

i suppose it's ironic
that this is the only thing
that expresses how you
made me feel

maybe my warnings at the start
weren't enough

maybe you thought my feelings
had changed

maybe i thought my feelings
had changed

"i will find a center in you"

it wasn't fair to either of us
i've given you
too much reason
to write