Dear *******,
I don't need more ****
Blowing up the media
Blowing up my sanity
Blowing up the world
Literally
Dear ******,
Ruining humanity
Because you feel the need
To overcompensate for
Your feelings of insecurity
I don't appreciate
How you choose to draw attention
To yourself
In such a negative way
Dear *******,
Get your **** together
You need to learn that
You are not the only one who matters
You are not the only person
In this world with a
"Correct" opinion
Get off your high horse
And if you're gonna shoot up some
Place just because you
Feel so under-appreciated
Don't ******* shoot yourself
Dear *****,
Get your ******* *******
Out of their twists
You've got no more right than
Others who feel so down on their luck
To go around
******* **** up
Stop being a *****!
Dear ****,
I don't care if you ***** up your life
But I do give a ****
When you meddle with mine
I do give a **** when you **** with
OUR world
And yes, I get that this letter
To all you *******
Who think you're so ****** special
Could get me hurt
Shot
And killed
But at least I know how to use words
To speak out against injustice
And to speak up for my beliefs
Rather than just pulling a trigger
Or dropping a bomb
Sincerely,
A Very ******* *****

The Dispatch: "Are you still proud to be a ******* American?"
(Referring to the recent killing of Christina Grimmie and fifty other innocents.)

Me: "What???
First of all, I never said I was "proud" to be American.
Second, I don't think of myself as an American, I just see me as MYSELF.
Third, I was correcting you for being biased about ALL Americans, based on some awful Americans.
Lastly, just because I am between the Canadian and Mexican borders does not give you or anyone else the right to view me as/imply that I am similar to a sorry excuse for a human being who MURDERED someone.
You do not know anything about me, you do not know what kind of person I am. You do not know my neighbor across the street, you did not know the man that shot and killed Christina Grimmie. You do not know the next name of the person who will commit homicide in YOUR country.
Killing is, I believe, the worst crime that anyone can commit...but it happens everywhere. It doesn't matter what the statistics are, a life is a life.
Christina Grimmie was born just like you were; was a human just as you are. She was these things just as an unknown person is, somewhere else in the world who might regrettably lose their life to the hand of another.
It's true that you don't know me, so you don't know if I am or ever will be like the handful of murderers that I unfortunately share a country with. But you should not label me as such a dreadful, DREADFUL thing.
Don't be prejudice against anyone, no matter where they come from. I sincerely hope that no other people are hurt by your nasty words--especially in times of tragedy."

We're separated, in a crowd.
We didn't used to be.
Glued at the hip,
fingertips
were best friends
on our hands.
That promise ring on your finger
was the best sight.
I remember I was shaking when I put it on.
You showed all of your friends.
I knew that one day I'd make you my wife.
We arrived at the gathering,
and you saw a friend
and left me for dead.
I clung to my only friend that was there,
near to tears because
this was not my thing
and the air was not there.
It was being used by the other kids,
so that they could laugh
under the cloud of
offensive songs.
You came around once,
and I had been worried about you
because this was also not your scene.
I imagined you shaking as bad as me.
Your expression shocked me.
It was fine,
even a little annoyed
that I had taken your time.
I am not important to you anymore.
The you I knew would have helped me,
stayed with me.
You left with your friend again
and I did not see you until the end,
when you looked antsy and told me we needed to go
because Diana--
your mom--
was freaking out.
I...was angry.
I said no. You could go without me.
You looked at me as if to say,
stop kidding, I don't have time for this.
I wanted to cry at myself for being mean to you
but you were being...
bratty.
Something I never would have used to describe you before.
"Fine then just give my mom directions!"
I agreed and followed you to her car,
where you promptly yelled in her face.
In all my ten years of knowing you,
you had never acted this way.
Come, calm down, be my pretty kitty again,
it's okay.
You didn't calm down.
You stomped away,
and had an angry edge to your voice
for the rest of the night.
When you left for home,
you kissed me on the cheek.
But I felt hollow.
My baby,
have you changed so much
that you don't know me anymore?
You can't come home to me anymore?
I'm so sorry.
If I did this to you
to us,
I am sorry.
I love you with a cluster of pieces
in my heart.
Goodbye, Amber RaeAnn Denny.

We're us, when we're secluded.
You rode home with me,
so that I could have someone there for me
when I went to that stupid party.
It was my first one.
We got to my house,
and I showed you around,
because before, I had only been to yours.
Your cute, sweet home
with the garden in the back
that we nestled into
while kissing under the sun.
You moved into a different one last year, I guess.
I undressed in front of you,
to put comfier clothes on.
You averted your eyes as if
that night
three years ago
didn't happen.
The one where
we snuck upstairs
away from the birthday party,
and caressed each other
in the blue night.
I hurriedly put the rest of my clothes on
because maybe in that moment
I forgot too.
We headed into the kitchen
where we planned to bake a cake.
You did most of the work
and I watched you
in love all over again
with your concentrated face
as you took this cake
way too seriously,
as if it were one of your drawings.
I said I'd pour that batter right on top of you,
and you objected.
I said then we could save water
(I had planned to shower),
you said:
"are you asking me to take a shower with you?"
with that face that just kills me.
I stuttered, spitted,
"N-no! I just..."
"Because" you said, going back to whisking, "all you'd have to do is ask".
My face, my everything
was hot.
Breathy objections flew out of my mouth,
just nonsense.
"You'd get in trouble,"
you laughed.
"Yeah,"
I said.
We packed up and walked over to the location.
You did not hold my hand.
I did not expect you too.

We're friends, in the light.
You hug me playfully and scruffle my hair.
Maybe a kiss on the cheek.
But then the lights go down in the house,
and we listen to the performers sing.
Our hands touch like they used to.
You poke my nose and blow raspberries on my face.
I breathe playfully into your ear, like a puppy.
And you stroke my hair as I get sleepy.
I'm more awake when we get into the fight:
"I'm gonna pick your nose!"
"No, I'm gonna get yours!"
We giggle and get hushed.
We hoot and holler toward the stage at the end of each song.
I long to touch you, to kiss those lips I kissed for two years.
I know exactly how they'd feel.
Small and smooth, never chapped like mine.
I press your glasses
up the bridge of your nose
because I know you hate that.
We are kids again.
Before our first kiss, first dance.
There are nearly ten
green glowing exit signs around us,
and I just need
to waltz with you
under them
like we used to.
You mention his name a lot,
and I shift uncomfortably
with ***** envy
just like 9th grade, right?
When you told me I didn't need one
after the kids told me about you and that guy.
I cried for days.
When the show ended,
we went to the bathroom together
and you complained about your hair.
We drifted outside, into the twilight,
and sang some songs.
One of them, which we harmonized beautifully on,
was "I can't help falling in love with you..."
and I followed you all around the front of the building,
swaying and letting some notes fly by
into the warm wind.
You do not love me like you used to.

In my lack of sleep
I peed on a toilet seat
That was not the worst though
Because as the saying goes
You surely reap what you sow
And I sowed a bad seed,
I sowed hatred from the love
That a girl showed me.
I made a puddle of ***
A muddled up mess
And I must confess
I've finally learnt of regret.
No matter how much you wipe it off
You'd hang your head in shame
Knowing that you let a droplet of ***
Land on what was a pristine toilet seat.
So you stand there apologising
Realising no matter how much you do
The toilet seat will never take you back.

So you hold your heart
Pretend it's not shaking
Pretend it's not breaking
And slowly march on.