The room starts to shrink as the lights dim to only the small flicker
of the candle flame. The water won’t seem to go
hot enough even as the temperature continues to
increase until it’s hotter than the fire burning the wax.
    I stand there trying to convince
myself that the water will wash away
the circles under my eyes as the water
        turns cold.
But it’s a lie.
       The water won’t do anything but
cause my fingers to go wrinkly.
I take a deep breath and exhale as the candle flame
      disappears.
With nothing visible,
the water finally turns cold as it continues to drip
from my fingertips.
The circles won’t disappear like the flame did;
         the water won’t turn hot again.
As the light diminished from the wick,
the sparkle vanished from your eyes.
The glimmer of hope from the flame evaporated
    into the atmosphere.
The lights went out and I realized that we’re always going to be stuck
                    in the same darkness.

There was no way I fell
in love. I couldn't have been
happy. I wasn't
smiling. The truth had to be a
lie. I knew it because
it was impossible
to have this much fun

      s.   o.   b.   e.   r.  

The truth is, I'm not the original
owner of your heart. I'm living on
borrowed time. Tick,
     tock, the mouse
            ran up
                the clock.
But the clock struck one, and our love was done.
They say only fools fall in love, so darling,
they must be talking about us because
we didn't fall in love,
        we drown in it.

You don’t need a gun
to be shot.
I know this
       because the morning after
you left, I found a bullet hole in my chest,
that sadness from that Sunday overflowed to
    massive amounts of
pain in Monday’s mayhem.
The next thing I knew,
I had blood trickling from the
stab wounds in my back.
My weakness on Wednesday echoed the
      innocence of my thoughts;
you don’t need a knife to be
   stabbed.
The flashbacks on Friday were bearable
until my skin started to peal from the burn
during the sunset on Saturday night.
The warmth reminded me of the butterflies that used to flood my stomach when you smiled.
But they’re gone now
just like the warmth of your touch on my skin that’s
now just a bare surface.
I guess you don’t need fire to burn either.
The bullet hole will close, the stab
wounds will heal, the skin
will grow back.
The morning after
I saw you with her
I learned the biggest lesson of my life;
You don’t need water to
                                             drown.

I'm a prisoner of my own words
trapped inside
thoughts of endless meaning
hidden behind clichés of familiarity.
Another torn memory;
a mistake I can't take back.
Echoes of words said
stuck inside the cell of no return.
I'm living on borrowed time
and, my darling, there's no cure for the endless word rhymes.
The beginning is the end
the enemy of my enemy is my friend.
Never ending
circle of circles.
I'm an inmate of my own mind
haunted by regret and broken dreams
there's no escaping
     no where to hide
I'm a prisoner of what's on
the inside.

Growing up,
There was no "newest form of technology," no "stylish clothes," no "little puppy". Never a collection of Barbie dolls.

Realizing
She was surrounded,
a plastic society,
choicelss.
          Simple figures.      Thoughtless taste.
Molded forms.
                 Unseasoned cuisine.  
     Unrealistic ideas.
Unsalted frenchfries.
Styled hair, bright eyes, rosy cheeks.
Growing up normal,
No distinct collar bones, permanent bags, big feet.
Brainwashed
convinced of being un-proportional.
No first picks. No invitations. No turn at princess.
Whispers about "that girl"
Not listening, but hearing
every
word.

Lesson learned
Chained to the plastic society.
Barbie dolls as examples, imbalance of body image expressed.
No "styled hair," no "big eyes".
Chained; foolish concepts.
Attempting to escape the prison worse than death:
alienation.

Bring it on.
Darkest places, broken rules,
done being molded, through being fooled.
Always considered "that girl. Breaking free
from this brainwashed, plastic society.

That girl
with the auburn hair
pale skin and
butterfly tattoo;
that one patterned with
sun spots and burnt brown eyes
topped with faint baby pink lips;
          that girl is me.
That girl that’s captain of
the team and president of every club,
the one who can’t say no to anyone especially the dusty haired
boy with green eyes that loved the
girl she was,
           or at least pretended to be.
That girl is me.
That girl that was always the savior,
Wonder Woman in regular clothes,
the one that gets along with everybody because
she can’t say no to anyone especially
that boy who told her everything would be okay;
that she would be safe;
     that no one would find out.
That girl is me.

          or at least who I used to be.

Hair’s now blond
skin’s sun kissd
tattoo removed
bright red lips accenting burnt brown eyes that learned
to say no to everyone especially
the tall boy with freckles and a voice that resembled an angel’s.
No longer Wonder Woman because
everything wasn’t okay;
she wasn’t safe;
and everyone found out.
The one I used to be,
   that girl
            is no longer me.