i'll create constellations in your eyes
shatter your soft brown
fill the cracks with fragments of me
taint your vision with moments of me

i can't bring myself to love you
without breaking you first
cloudy vision so as to adore me best

i'll paint you pretty
lay you down as my canvas
taint your skin with bits of love
hues of pinks and purples

i can't bring myself to love you
i haven't any love to give
i hope you won't notice
i'm simply re-gifting borrowed love

how sad do i need to be
to get you to like me

i don't say i hate myself
for you to say i'm beautiful
i don't say i struggle to get out of bed
for you to say i have so much potential
i don't say i can't find joy in what i used to
for you to say try a new hobby
i don't say i wanna die
for you to say you love me
i don't know why i say what i do
but i know it's not
for copy&pasted love

i love the tortured artist trope

i'll torture myself for the title

but

i always fall flat on the artist half

it's midnight
and my mind is filled to the brim
not with ideas or fake scenarios
but rather tears waiting to burst
i can feel the dam giving way
i haven't the tools or manpower to mend it
this **** dam will burst
i just hope not in front of you
i don't need my breakdown to be apart of your narrative
my sadness is not a story element for you
my sadness has nothing to do with you
but i know you'd prefer it did

i was given the role of love interest #1
it wasn't the role i auditioned for
but it was the role i was given
i was left two choices
play the part
or
leave your show
and so i played my part
but the script wasn't so nice
and neither were the other characters
so i dropped the act
and you dropped me
because
because i guess i never really mattered
i never was your friend huh?
just love interest #1

i still wear your jacket when i'm sad

i've had one too many boys toss love at me like a hello

an idle heart is a factory for poor decisions

you always were my favorite way to self-destruct

if you are an honest man,
then why do you only speak sweetly to me
when cloaked by the night-time air,
dim street lights,
and my sleep deprived state of mind?

it physically pains me to think that i have existed beyond the present
like i'm walking through life trailed by fragments of me
like there's pieces of me still living for others
pieces i don't remember losing
living without me

you only stopped to consider how drunk i may have been
when it came to getting me out of your bed
not when it came to getting me in it

i’ve gone and designed myself into a commodity
made myself perfectly consumable
and i’ll let you consume every bit of me

anyone with a half mind could clearly see that my hypersexual facet
is nothing more than an halfwitted attempt to feel what it is to be alive again
forever chasing a high i could never recreate

you just can't figure me out
because i'm oh so complex
and oh so hard to get to know
because despite all my ramblings
baring my chest
carving myself open
and serving all i can spare
you
just
can't
figure
me out

i’ll sooner paint you a saint
than admit you distorted my vision of love
before i even got to learn the words

perhaps womanhood is being a stepping stone in a man’s personal growth


and perhaps i didn’t need to feel the crushing weight of your desire

what am i meant to do when my mind's empty and i can't sleep?
i have nothing to ponder
no dream worlds to drift into
no false realities to explore
nothing
blank spaces to fill
but i haven't any ink to spill
so delirious i think this is poetry
it's hardly even a train of thought
more a barrel of babble
usually
my mind is a jumble
of stolen
found
borrowed
and new words
but they seem to have taken the night off
how convenient
my melatonin is lacking
my words are slacking
and i still think this is poetry

i did not bloom from a household of love
i grew from the rubble of failed attempts
i thought love was sacrifice
sacrificing your time
your safety
and sanity
i thought love was tolerance
tolerating strangers
judgement
and lies
i thought love was fear
fearing what you'll do
what you'll give
and what you'll take
i thought love was pain
that it was only heartbreak
that the only proof it was real was a new child
that if it hurt it had to be real
i've grown to realize that just isn't right
i've learned
you don't have to settle for this love
love is acceptance
but not accepting *******

i am 18 and crazy
i read once that the two go hand-in-hand
sometimes
i feel i am nothing more
than stolen words
because sometimes
i can't help but simply be an echo
of punks songs
a bit of indie
and every book that crowds my shelves
but is that so terrible?
i have been molded by the hearts & souls of hundreds
i have been nurtured by the reality & fiction of people i'll never meet
i have learned from lives lived & imagined before mine
maybe sometimes i mimic the mistakes
maybe sometimes i follow paths with a thousand warning signs
maybe sometimes i really really **** up
but
i am 18 and crazy
so
i have plenty of time to clean my messes
i have time to right my wrongs
i have time

i'm terrible
aren't i?
i can say
"i love you
but
i won't"
all in the same moment
while you can tell me
you
love
me
in the moment
and every moment after
i'm terrible
aren't i?

i started drawing
because my dad used to
i started writing
because my dad always did
i started watching football
so we could watch together
and so we did
every sunday
and the occasional monday
but slowly
every game
turned into every other
and eventually none
he stopped asking to see my work too
and i stopped trying to share

~
sometimes it feels like i can't catch a train in my own thoughts
~

crying all the time sets me apart from from you & her
you only cry when something really bad happens
or you want me to feel really bad for how i react
and my mom only cries when she's really mad
or on the off occasion i catch her breaking down

you've always been quick to smother me when i cry
not with love but meaningless gifts
my mother always says i'm too sensitive when i cry
when really she means i'm too much like you
and maybe i am "too sensitive"
but i don't just cry for the lowest lows like you two

i cry every time i watch a movie
i cry every time i laugh a little too long
i cry every time i'm overwhelmed
i cry every time i erupt into anger
sometimes i cry just for the hell of it

i cry all the time and that used to embarrass me
but i've grown to realize that's what sets me apart from you & her
that's what makes me better that you & her
i show every emotion with the prettiest tears

they were on the cusp
of moving forward
but with each step they took
they got two steps further

i could grow daisies in your lungs
for they are filled with the purest air
that sometimes we share
i could grow tulips from your head
for you have imagined more fields than you can fill
maybe the one we count the stars in
i could grow roses from your eyes
for they would just add to your rosy vision
rosy enough to make me seem like enough
i
(however)
could grow nothing from your heart
for those fields have been over plowed
for the waves of your chestnut hair don't reach
for i haven't a clue what flower is worthy
worthy of trying
trying to prosper where other's have failed you
i fear my love not being enough
enough to wield blooms for you
for now
i hope daisies are enough

you said we'd go somewhere safe
but i still feared
feared a seat-belt wouldn't be enough
to keep me from crashing through the glass
you were willing to take the chance
and i hoped
but hope isn't enough
because i got scared
and let go of the wheel
slammed the breaks before we crashed
i'm sorry
but i could barely think
think beyond fogged windows and small backseats
and i hated it
i hated being confined to a two-door egg
i hated being nothing more than nighttime rides
i'm sorry
but the droplets on your windows could only blind me for so long

how did this happen
how did teaching me to drive
turn into riding swings at night
to sitting under the stars
to cuddling in your backseat
i don't know whats happening
but i'm not minding the limbo

every bit of hate

is pooling in her eyes

every bit of regret

is rolling down her cheeks

every bit of fear

is found between her fists

every bit of doubt

is hidden in her manic smile

every dark feeling that riddles your mind

is amplified in the sound of her laugh

i won't be sitting around waiting for someone to write love poems about me
not when i can write them myself
because i do love myself
though that's been a struggle to say
now that it's out i won't be stopping
i love all the small things that add to be me
because i am many things
a puzzle in which each piece is a work of art
i am a collection of beauty
beauty beyond a face
though i do also love the view i create

i never thought of myself as someone with school spirit
but
i'll spend my fridays
decked out in purple
dotted with black and white
i'll dance in the crowd
while the band plays us out
i'll work on losing my voice
while we head to the tailgate
i'll work on numbing my feet
while we dance to knock-off dj beats
i'll jump to my feet
when our team takes the field
i'll join in on the cheers
when our band shows up
i'll worry about my voice tomorrow
cuz right now
we're losing it over touchdowns
i'll worry about my clothes tomorrow
cuz right now
we're laughing while the rain pours down
i'll worry about it all tomorrow
cuz right now
we're dancing under stadium lights

she's so beautiful
not just in her looks
(though i do adore her chestnut hair
and wide brown eyes)
but in the way she speaks
she speaks with such care
because she knows the weight of words
and she doesn't bring herself to the stars
even though she belongs among them
because she knows what it's like to be looked down upon
and she writes with as much care as when she speaks
each word written to be read
and i wish i could read them all

what's with the romanization of 17
why is it made out to be a pinnacal of teenage
why is it the highlight of punk songs
why was it the ******* year
17 was quite awful to me
let's see
i began by getting my heart broken
proceeded to spiral
so i chopped off my hair
because that's what the pretty girl does in every coming of age movie
she chops off her hair then everything gets better
well not for me
i kept spiraling
spiraled more and more as each piece of my hair hit the floor
then i chose to be a *****
i was desperate for attention
desperate to be wanted
and then i was
by one
two
three
four
then i went green
before i chopped it all again
and maybe the end of 17 hasn't been so bad
minus my ***** friends
but overall
i'd rate it a 6/10
let's hope 18 is better

i look so much like my father when my mother is upset with me
it's amazing how she can't see herself in me when she's mad
my teary eyes are his
my sour face is his
my stance is his
i am his daughter when's she's angry

i am petty
petty beyond belief
over what should have died with time
i am a *****
a ***** because i can't keep my mouth shut
and i love to cause a scene
i am an attention-*****
attention negative or positive
i'll do what it takes to gain it
i am a hot-head
little actions throw me into fits
fits of rage larger than need be
i am selfish
though not with materialistic things
that would be better than emotions
i am a crybaby
every inconvenience pushes me over the edge
every good and bad makes me ball
i am many
nasty
ugly
crude
and cruel things
but
i am also a work in progress
working to be more
more than teenage angst
more than excuses
more than