Before the dusting
In my eyes can be swept
My arms are already
Searching for you.
Your lips
Slightly parted,
Inviting me
To kiss them.
Listening to your
Steady breaths,
Watching your chest
Rise and fall.
The stillness
And peacefulness
That rests upon
Your eyelids,
Make me want
To relive this
Every morning
For the rest of my days.

There you go judging.
Thought that was your god's job.

Windows down
Cold, brisk night
All worries aside
No other car in sight

These roads are all mine
To venture and explore
While the beat of the music
Makes my heart soar

And I’ll keep driving
Until that needle hits “E”
Because sometimes a drive
Is all you really need

It all makes me think
That it’s amazing a drive
Despite the simplicity
Could make me feel so alive

Peer into the compact mirror
And disguise the trails
Of dried tears
With beige powder.
Cover up the road map
Etched into your foundation.
Now, pull yourself together,
Drag your *** out the door.
And don't forget to fake a smile.
It's all about putting on a show
And suffering in silence.

God knows I'd rather do that
Than open my mouth.

These clothes, they hide
These clothes, conceal
And when these clothes slide off
There's nothing left to reveal

Unhooked clasps
Undone buttons
Just unwrap this body
'Til absolutely nothin'

My raw self for
Only you to view
Removing this fabric
Is saying that I trust you

And this
Is how I
Worship
The moon

There's something about the night
That brings out raw emotion.
Maybe it's the moonlight,
Somber and sad
Or the quiet loneliness
That leaves you with your thoughts.
But for some
Unexplained reason
The pain we carry
During the day
Spills out of the cracks
Of the broken heart
When the sun sets
And the moon
Takes its place
In the sky

I can't come to rest my sorrow
On the crutches of religion
But instead believe
In total oblivion

No pearly gates
No heavenly music
Just utter nothingness
And that oddly comforts me

No restrictions on this short life
No Almighty God to obey
Instead just simply live
Just how you want

Pained to the point of marble
   Now a cold statue
      You pray for a chisel

Pull the strings
Laced upon those wrists
Act, puppet!
Act!
For if they're pleased
With what they see on the outside
They won't take a second
To question the inside

So act, puppet!
Act!

You don't express love in the ways that I want you to,
But you express it in the ways that you know how.

Kiss your lips
And inhale laughter,
Oh god, the way
Your mouth curls,
Eyes become
Gentle slits,
And the bending
Of your brow
Insists on
Intimacy,
Every ounce
Of my soul
Says, "Yes,
Please."

She assured me
That she knew her limit,
But it didn't take long
Until she drank herself
Into total oblivion
Out cold on the floor
With dried tears on her cheeks.
She tries to drown
Her demons in *****
But she tends to forget
That alcohol ...
Only makes them stronger.

I was on my way to a party
Dressed in heels and a crop top
When I entered the corner store
To purchase some snacks
And on my way to the cashier
A man standing in an aisle
Browsing through peanuts
Glanced up and stopped mid-search
When I clicked past him
And proceeded to uncomfortably stare

I walked into the gas station
Wearing dark wash jeans and a v-neck
With my best friend at 2 AM
When two drunken men stumbled in
And began eyeing us up and smirking
My friend leaned in to me and whispered,
     "I'm really scared."
Overhearing her, one man elbowed the other
And with a smile on his face taunted,
          "Oh no, we're scaring them."

I was at the laundry mat one night
Wearing shorts and a baggy shirt
When a middle aged man across the room
Kept gawking at me from over the washers
Uneasy, I went outside to smoke
To which he stood at the window
And kept a close eye on me
I called a friend and stayed on the phone
Because I was afraid to go back
And get my clothes alone

I stepped out of my vehicle
In my sweatpants and flipflops
To grab some cigarettes quick
When a white bearded man
Was already at my heels
"Hey, how're you honey?"
I quickly replied, "fine".
And hurried into the store
Without looking back

It seems like every time I leave the house
It doesn't matter what I'm wearing
It could be "provocative" or a burlap sack
I always end up feeling threatened
     Heartbeat in my ears
          Cold sweat on my back
So don't blame it on my outfit
Don't blame it on my actions
Because I'm not asking for it
I just want to be left alone

Muffled screams
Caged behind my lips
     Just keep quiet,
Says the voice in my head,
          *People have real problems.

I've always hated winter
But the beauty of this snowfall
Made me love this winter wonderland

Underneath the ceiling of stars,
Your finger traced constellations
That told legends about Gods.
We'd settle on the swing set
I spent my childhood on
And smoke cigarettes
Talking about how we felt so old
All the while still feeling so young.
And there were moments
When I'd look at you
And marvel at your presence,
Just thanking the universe
For being privileged to love you.

I got a taste
Of your absence
From my life
When I woke up
With my eyes wet
And hands clenched
Visions of your leaving
Swirling in my head
I became stone
And not one part of me
Wanted to move
Afraid I may crack
But only after
I fought through the
Haze of last night
I realize I was only dreaming
My heart is removed
From the guillotine
And relief washes
Over my stiff body
Oh deary, this isn't
The first time
My dreams have
Pained me like this

A crack trailed down
The center of my heart
When I saw my dad cry
As his world fell apart

I remember him sitting
On the living room floor
Crying as his wife told him
He can't see his kids anymore

I got down beside him
And hugged him so tight
Wishing that I could make
Every thing right

But mommy was leaving
And taking us along
So he told us he loved us
And said to be strong

"Are you left handed?"
          I'm writing with it, aren't I?

"Oh my god, how do you do that?"
          The same way you write with your right hand.

"You must be super creative."
          Yeah, sure.

"Your hand writing is pretty good for being left handed."
          It still smears.

Painfully watching people attempt to write left handed.

Good luck writing in ink! Even worse than pencil.

Dear Ashley,

          Congratulations! Your parents decided to give you one of the most popular names of the 90s! This is your letter of introduction to being Ashley! However, be informed that your name will not only be just "Ashley". Since it's very common, non-Ashleys will need to differentiate between all of you. You may be nicknamed "Ashley #2" or "Ashley Last Name Initial". Preparing yourself for embarrassment is also essential. Instructors will call out your name, resulting in either you pointing to yourself mouthing, Me? or managing to chirp a "Yes?" in unison with three others, only to feel stupid when it's not you. With a name so stale and boring, you may grow a hatred for it. You will fall in love with unique signatures, wishing they were your own. Over and over again, you will fantasize about changing it. Keep in mind that other Ashleys feel the same. At least you can be thankful you weren't named Frances.

                                                       ­                                   Sincerely,
                   ­                                                                 ­              Ashley

P.S. - Although, personalized key chains are easily accessible!

They say pain
Changes people
And I just haven't
Been the same since

Beneath the surface
Of the dark and mysterious
Ocean crests
There's a disturbance
On the ocean floor

Chaos brews and
My bones quiver
As the wave
Towers overhead
Taunting me

Waves crush my chest
Screams fill my lungs
And salty water
Burns my eyes
I'm whisked away...

Oh God, not again
Just another night
Curled on the floor
Crying oceans
And creating tsunamis

It's hard to say
When the first onset
Of insecurities
Had taken place

Was it at 17?
When I stared deep
Into the mirror
Despising the reflection?

Was it at 15?
When I dug my fingernails
Into the side of my thigh
When he made me feel like used garbage?

Was it at 13?
When I showed
My mom that award
And it was carelessly tossed on the table?

Was it at 11?
When the snickers
Of my classmates
Reached my heart?

Was it at 9?
When I watched
Mother try to desperately
Cover her imperfections with powder?

Self love?
Self love?
Self love can't dwindle away
When it never existed.

And now at the age
Of barely 20,
I've been searching
The ground
For a speck
Of confidence
And trying my best
To piece together
A backbone
That I never had.

Beautiful people,
Unfair lives.
Why must they suffer?
Why do they cry?
Undeserving pain,
Underlying depression.
Never fading scars
And memory repression.
Their pasts' brimming
With agonizing sadness
And innocent minds
Plagued with madness.