Don't fall in love with the broken boy.
I will tell you from experience,
Don't do it.
You may think you will fix him,
You can bind up his wounds,
That your love will fix all that's broken in his life,
But I'll tell you,
It's all a lie.

You can't change a man,
You never can.
They'll tell you that time and time again and you'll shake your head and scoff thinking,
"They don't know what I can do."
You can't.

You yourself are broken.
You thought he'd fall in love with you and that your anxiety isn't that big of a deal.
That maybe it'll even be a part of you that he'll love you because of and in spite of.
It's not something to romanticize.

He'll try to fit into the mold he thinks you have for men,
And he'll give up once he believes he'll never fit into that.
And he'll break your heart leaving you in the process.
He claims this is only temporary and that it'll be over soon,
He just needs to figure himself out.

But if it's not goodbye, why does it feel like you're nowhere to be found?

I'm having a love affair
Multiple if you get down to it
The sun, he kisses my cheeks every morning
My coffee frenches my mouth
My clothes caress over my body
At night
The stars whisper sweet nothings into my ears
And the moon penetrates my being
And they all become jealous when he is near
For he gives me all of this
He adds the butterflies that wreak havoc within
I am having a love affair
One I will not quit

Till you can’t walk
Till you are sore,
Yet still smiling
from the thrilling experience,
Till you are sweating pleasure
from every pore.
Till your breath murmurs
my first name with every inhale
Till my voice is the only sound
your ears need to hear.

i would
rest my head on your breast
and listen
Enjoy the sweet tunes composed by
every noted word you harmonize

Tales of your life stories before they became entwined with mine
Narratives about your dreams
About who breaks your glassy heart
And what tickles your eye-ducts
into opening a flood of tears.

an inner world of wishes
she deserves beautiful things,
The Nubian Queen,
Sunflower Child.

~ New-Black-SoUl #NBS

How many boys do I have to kiss,
and bottles to drink,
in order to blur your face and forget your name?

But this is my destruction,
I've accepted it the moment I fell in love.

Because loving you is being vulnerable and naked,
it was my choice and never your fault.

I just knew you were destruction,
but worth sacrificing everything for.

But now that I have nothing,
what will happen now?

once when i was 11 i read somewhere that you could fall in love with someone just by holding eye contact with them for a number of seconds. i cannot tell you how many hours i would spend in front of mirrors, staring down my reflection hoping to feel something other than my breath on cold glass.

you know the craziest thing to me when i was 12 was that i had never seen my face in person. i mean i'd seen myself in photographs, and i'd obviously saw myself in standing water, or mirrors, or when passing store windows but i had never looked myself in the face for real so maybe that was the problem.

when i was 13 i was in the eigth grade and some boy told me my kiss didnt taste sweet like it was supposed to so i stayed up all night perfecting the combination of chap-stick and lip gloss, and i made smudges all over my mother's make-up mirror in her bathroom, but it still wasnt enough so i left it shattered on the floor and never told her what happened

ages 14-18 i lived my life through glasses and tried so hard to be someone else that i lost sight of who i really was. because people dont want to hear about how you have daily staring contests with yourself, or how you always blink first. people dont want to watch the happiness disappear from your eyes, or see how your reality comes crawling up your throat and sits on your tongue waiting for it's chance to scream help, while your depression runs ramped, changing all of your picture captions to "ugly"

when i turned 19 broken glass and razors became my best friends, and lungs filled with smoke were like breaths of fresh air and i've never told anyone, but there were nights when i didnt come home because i couldnt remember where home was. they tell you that home is supposed to be this safe place where comfort can be found in your own skin, but i wasnt told that home is mirrors covered by sheets, and covering your eyes to anything that showed a reflection because i never quite figured out the trick of falling in love with myself the way everyone else apparently had

i hope that 20 is the year that something amazing finally happens in my chest when i look down at puddles and see myself staring back. i hope when i'm 20 that i'll be able to go through old pictures and not want to cry. i hope that 20 is the year that tolerating myself magically turns into loving myself. that i wont have to constantly replace shattered mirrors or picture frames. i hope the 20 year old version of me will finally be able to look herself in eyes and see more than what's missing. i hope when im 20 this poem wont hold relevancy and that my scars will be faded and the only thing left of this will be a success story