You are the last person I would expect
To smile with the glimmer that you have
To laugh with the excitement that you do
To talk with the clarity that you can.

They left you for dead
You watched your father die beside you
A bullet in your leg
Beats a bullet to his vitals.

Fifteen, you are but fifteen
When Daddy's telling you to play dead
They'll go away, just be quiet
He coos
So you do your best not to scream
As you lose blood like energy.

You wake up in a hospital bed
Bandages caressing your injured calf
A nurse tells you to turn on the news
As you ask where your father is.
The television set won't lie to you.
The flat screen relays the message
He's dead.

Years later, still living in the slums
That you so preciously embrace as your home
At seventeen, you're the only sibling without kids
But you have been deemed caretaker.

Yet, to total strangers of different race
Those who barely know suffering
From an affluent community, from generally "good" homes
You tell your story
And leave them with a lasting impression.

You are the spitting image of bravery, fearlessness, courage
And still,
No one's there to save you.
You are your own hero
Your driving force.
And no one will take the greatest gift you have away from you:
Joy, and the ability to grace others with the same.

A wise tale, an old saying
One that old people, whether in spirit or in body, say is
"If you can't stand the heat
Get out of the kitchen."

What they fail to mention
The details they leave behind on the floor
Is that sometimes the kitchen
Is everywhere you go
Outside forces trap you
And it gets hotter, suffocating every whim you have
That may let you escape.

You pass out before you can leave.
Or the flames engulf your body
Your mouth fills with thick, black smoke
As you fall to your knees and beg for your life back.

Everything you have, stripped away.
Everything you love, gone.
Everyone who loves you, weepy.

They don't tell you that sometimes the heat
Turns into a fire.

We talk like strangers,
We used to know each other, in a past life,
but that was a long, long time ago
Times are changing.

You think were still best friends,
but in truth, I can't stand talking to you.
What can I say anymore?

Nothing you say to me will reverse the pain you have caused me
So many sleepless nights, days missed from school,
These times, I can never get back.

I'm better off without you

And now in my bluntness, a side of me rarely seen
You want to start a fight
You want to get even

If you want an even playing field,
It can never be attained.

Even would imply we started off as equal
And that is not the case

We start now with me chopped at the knees,
My blood slowly leaking out,
You know you have the upper hand,
But my will is stronger than that.

i
To a mother who loved me
As only someone like you can.
Could I let myself leave you broken?
Then again,
I wouldn't stress you out anymore
And it would be the last time I'd make you cry.

ii
To a father who loved me
Though he never had the best way of expressing it.
Volatile and bitter were our interactions
But I never hated you like I said.
Did you mean it when you said I'm a disappointment?
I'm sorry, I promise I'll stop hurting this family.

iii
To a sister who loved me
But whom I hardly ever knew
We are total opposites, always
You are perfect and I am a perfect wreck
Keep on shining
And I'll get out of your way.
Don't cry for me, sweetie.

iv
To Matt, who says he loves me
He tells me day after day
That even though we cannot be together right now
I have his heart in my hand
And he will forever have mine.
And yet, we know it would be easier to live
Without each other
And that I by nature make things messy.
I'm sorry baby, I swear I'll stop.

I write the words down,
Let them spill onto the lines
A knife in my hand, I close my eyes
A shaking arm rises
And the other knocks it down.

You are stronger than this*
Something echoes
Vague, yet clear as glass
I fall to my knees and scream.

I will not give up on myself
For if I do
If I throw my life away
Then I will leave it's unfinished residue
It's dirtiest and most heinous parts
Here with you.
I love you too much
To burden you in such a way.

Yet is my life a blessing or a curse?
Will I bring you joy or grief
By continuing to search for every scrap of will I have
To fight on?

I must fulfill my journey on this Earth to come to that conclusion.
But this not so much a paradox of death or suicide
As it is the omnipresent conflict of a human life.

i get really sad
and somewhat heartbroken
when i think of all the things
that i don't know about you
i don't know where you go
or what you do
it may seem weird
that i would want to know
all of the little things
like what you eat
and when you go to bed
and what you do with your day
but i guess that's what love is
i'm interested in everything
that i could possibly know
it ***** that most of you
is kept so private
i would share anything with you
i guess you have to protect yourself
but i'll tell you right now
i'm not dangerous
and i love you enough
to where i would never
want to harm you
or use anything against you
no matter what
i wouldn't dare think of it
i just want to know you
thick and thin
through and through
i feel like i'm shown one person
and the rest of the world
the real world
is shown something else
i want to experience who you truly are
not just some part of you
or some held off
piece of you
i want all of you
i want to know everything you think
everything you say
and everything you do
i want you
one hundred percent
i want to know all the secrets
that you don't share with anyone else
i want to know all the different parts of you
the dark ones and deep ones
that only come out at night
the light and funny ones
that come out on a good day
the hard working and dedicated ones
that come out when you are focused
i want to see it all
because i love you
and to think i don't know all there is to know
rips me in two

Becoming friends with someone
Who has a place in your heart
Who has shattered your definition of love
With whom there is extensive history
Is never easy to do.

Part one is when you don't talk to each other
Don't even look in their direction.
You wish you could pretend that they don't exist.
The only things you exchange
Are venomous glares and glances.

Part two is in this awkward limbo.
It's been a few months, you miss him or her.
Do you talk?
Do you text?
It's all left floating in the Great Unknown.

Part three is when you fall from that blank space.
Do you simply make small talk?
Should you hang out?
Is there a chance of getting back together
Or simply hooking up?
Your brain and your heart are at war
And there will be blood.

Part four, possibly the most crucial step.
Deciding when you should cross into the friend circle
And deciding how to do so.
You talk about what went wrong
Or you simply let it go.

But can you ever really be friends?
Buds, pals, drinking buddies
Talk about current heartbreaks
Family problems
Crushes

Or do you remain quirky, undetermined ghosts who just happen to
Cross each others paths
Exchange text messages now and then
Go out for coffee
Make out at a party
After consuming a little too much alcohol.

I think all of us who have been in this situation
Know the very clear answer to the humbly posed question.