I would write you a poem
     about the stars and the moon
I would write you a poem
     about me dying soon.
I would write you a poem
     about my love everlasting
I would write you a poem
     about cymbals crashing.
I would write you a poem
     about how I want you so
but I can't write you a poem
     when you don't let me grow.

She was sleeping by her windowsill.
White petals, given to her by her lover.
They were crisp and sweet, yet still the snow lay under her cover.
The blankets were heavy, but still she wrapped herself, trying to stay warm.
The window was stuck open.
The wind was howling, just like the day she left.
Ever since the love has passed, she felt contempt.
She shivered, tears fell.
Her lover’s skin turned pale as her dahlias.
And as she watched as the petals fell,
Oh how she missed her girl’s lips as well.

one hundred days and nights
i want to spend with you
my love, my friend,
i want nothing more
than to see you grow
and become the man
i always knew you could be

right now it seems pointless
that you're stuck inside this loop
but don't fret, my friend, as t is helping you.

one hundred poems and songs
i grant and give to you
as you are my love
and my world belongs to you

eyes are dripping like gutters after the rain
hands are shaking like an addict's
breaths are short and fast like someone who ran a race
mind is stu-stu-stuck like a br-broken record

geese                                                                soar
    as if                                                        they
         have                                          nothing
              to wor                       ry  about
                      they                  just
                          fly              in
                            the     shape
                                of  a
                                  V

You are in my stomach

A topsy-turny rumble

I can't swallow away.

maybe the worst day of the week isn't monday.

maybe it's the day you get ignored

My nightmares of that evening in January
rerun in my mind like an overplayed television series.
rerun in my mind like a broken record.
rerun in my mind like an intrusive thought.
rerun in my mind like an itch that won't go away.
rerun in my mind
rerun in my mind
rerun

Don't show your scars, or they might multiply.
They spread and spread, and give more pain.
They make friends angry, and make friends sad.
You lose more acquaintances, and gain more enemies.

Go. leave. I need time alone.

I broke the hourglass. I cut your favorite sweater in two. I tore up the pictures you left in my room. I plan on destroying all history of ours.

The time you spent with me is meaningless now. The warm sun has become a dark abyss.

Maybe I should be guilty, or maybe I should miss you. I should forgive you. But I don’t. But I do miss you.

I cannot miss you anymore - you started to love me, and nothing can make that right.

I wanted to strike a match and set you aflame.
You did it for me.
I did it for you, a while back, but it went out just as my match was struck.
It’s just high school drama.
It doesn’t matter.

There’s a fire in my heart, and a sparkle in your eyes.
They shine like the moonlight on the horizon.
When you talk, I can’t help but to gaze into them.
They’ve got a burning passion to them.
But it’s gone.

Maybe I am not truly alive. The darkness consumes me. I’m surrounded by the black abyss of space. I cannot breathe; however, I am not drowning. Is this Purgatory? I have no memories of my past life, if I have one. Floating around gives me a feeling of hope and willpower - if only I had the energy to use it.

breathe. in. out.
what do you see?
computer-ruler-pen-calculator. sticky note. sticky note.
desk.
bag. chair.
what else do you see?
person-person--person---person----person.
who?
i don't know.
where are you?
does it matter?
who are you?
i forgot.
what are you?
disassociating.

while I may no longer show signs of exhaustion
it is good to note that I am filled with desperation
to sleep, or even better, leave for hibernation

Drown me.
Push me under.
Hold me down.
Keep me still until my final breath.
Let the water fill my lungs, burning as I scream.
I want to go, and you'll let me.
You're the reason I want to go in the first place.

Am I truly myself?
When the light goes down
While they’re out on the town
I’m laying in bed to die?

We met in August, and became fast friends.
Eventually you grew a garden for me, filled with roses and daisies, any kind of flower you can imagine.
That garden grew. It was beautiful.
You occasionally hinted at the fact that you grew a garden for me, but you never told me directly.
I knew there was a garden there.
I grew one for you too. But it was too late.
I said your garden hints made me queasy. That was before my garden grew.
You decided to take out a flamethrower, and burn your garden to the ground, just as my roses started to bloom. It didn’t hurt you.

I told you about my garden. You didn’t like it.

You say you can’t grow things. You say you’ve done it too many times with it ending up wilting.
Yet now you’ve grown a garden for another person.

And mine is wilting. I need water.

On a day like today, flurries and all, it should be giving off warm feelings.
Instead, my home is full of loud, crisp noises,
shouts and screams,
shivers and cries.
The soft greens we should have, are replaced by blistering cold attitudes.

He didn't like my smile, he liked my mouth. He wanted me to use my mouth to his advantage and he wanted me to make him feel good. He would do anything for it, he pinned me down. I was sweating and I was afraid. He took me to the lake and tried again there. I ran home in the rain, which was a 45 minute walk without a jacket.

I met another. His girlfriend wanted to be my friend but didn't know how he felt about me. She yelled at him and made him think he needed to give her more. More money, more kisses, more speech. She figured out he loved me. Him and I talked often, he told me what he wanted from me. I slept over, and I knew what was coming but I didn't care. If someone loves me, I loved them back because that's the way my stupid brain works. I should have known that he didn't like my smile, he liked my thighs. We got what we wanted but I stopped him when it became too much. The next day he told his girl a lie that made him seem to forget what really happened, which I later told his girl but she didn't belive me. Nobody did. I was trying to break them up because he liked me and I told him that his girl was abusing him but no, women can't be abusers.

I lost friends because they didn't believe me because I am just like that, making up stories so people will feel bad for me, because I'm not allowed to have my own opinions even though my being trans lets me see the struggles of both men and women.

Nightmares and frights and getting away from myself because I know that when people see me, they see me as weak and usable and a good way to get off once or twice. I'm vulnerable.

They didn't like my smile, they liked my body.

She gave me a daisy
Although she didn’t know
That I fall in love so easy
And that it’s sure to grow.

She gave me a lilac
Somehow she’s unaware
That she cannot turn back
And that she should beware.

She gave me an orchid
And I know it’s been said
There’s something bad she did
And now she hangs down dead.

Hot iron pressed against my chest. My skin tears and muscles rip. My ribs and my spine are now broken. I fall to the ground, and break my skull. I am stepped on. I am crushed. My guts are spilling over the floor. I am dead.
I feel like I can barely breathe. Is it really that difficult to see me the way I am?

My entire life is on repeat

like a ****** poem written to escape english class

it happens over and over again