At night she buries herself six feet below the ground
and she paints her face with a smile every morning.
Her mascara is waterproof and her shaking hands
buried deep inside the pockets of a beautiful coat
while she tells exciting tales of sorbet happiness.

She is a conundrum, weaves lies from silver thread
and hides behind red lipstick smiles over coffee cups.
She whispers false promises to you and herself
between Egyptian cotton sheets, skin illuminated
by the glow of the sun rising behind a high-rise.

This girl is careless but made of glass, and her eyes
catch every word you say, and carry it along, but
her words are not those you preserve in your heart.
She bursts into flames in the middle of an ocean;
she will never be anyone’s to take, or understand.

There is a point
of no return
when it comes to loving
your messed up soul.

Don't talk about your sadness,
They'll say you're an annoyance.
Don't talk about how terrified you are,
They'll say you're frustrating.
Don't talk about your struggles,
They'll tell you all about their triumphs.
Don't talk about what you're going through,
They won't understand.

Don't tell anyone anything.
Simply cause it's pointless.
Struggles of the dead are valued more than those who are alive.
Nobody wants to sit with you and hear your sad story.
They want you to toughen up and get over it.
And that's not what you want to hear.
So don't say anything to anyone.

there is a bed that you haven't slept in twice. i should have asked you who taught you to
lace up your shoes in an instinct
that feels just like a memory,
your luggage is always packed.
you love out of a suitcase, always
ready to pick up and move. your hands are stained with their last
names you have boarding flights tattooed
on your palms because you're so used to
leaving, there is never a good-bye it is
always departure gates and terminals, and i'm writing this in on connecting flight over the ocean because close to nowhere is
the closest we've been in months
just to tell your passport that i understand
how you cannot love me. i could
taste it in your gas-station coffee breath i could
feel it in the hesitance of your fingertips
you are always close to the highway you are always waiting to hitch a ride with a new girl who will write poetry about how badly you feel like permanence and i
am always trying to unpack you, begging
you to stay one more night.
i understand how you cannot love me, i stay on the ground and you buy plane tickets with spare cash, with a turbulence that makes me
want to fasten my seatbelt.
there is a bed that you haven't slept in twice and i whisper to the sheets
"i thought i could've made you stay."
your face is always towards the
humming of the window and
i like to imagine you can hear
me if you can hear me, you can leave all you
want. you can travel across the world and exchange your
heart for currency, you can walk through
security and stuff your belongings into the closets of cheap
hotels. i understand how you cannot stay because you're always too busy leaving,
but there will always be a place for you to
unpack in my chest.
there is a home that remains unoccupied.
there is a bed that
you haven't slept in twice, i keep it unmade in case you
ever feel like coming back.

There are empty coffee cups all over this room
Somehow, I only notice when you're gone.
It reminds me of you, my cup of coffee
You take yours black one sugar,
I get a white peppermint mocha
Sweet with just a hint of bitter
Kinda like me in a way.
You can always know a person by where they get their coffee,
We like the local places, if we have time.,
But when we don't, we're Starbucks fans.
You know all the best spots in town.
Not just for coffee, foe everything.
When you took me to that park on the hill,
On that freezing winter night, I almost cried.
Because I thought, no I knew,
I'm in love and I've never felt better!
And even though Portland is freezing,
I was warm, because I was with you.

she ties her ******* thick knot so he can’t **** on it.
she bites the inside of her cheek until she tastes rust, until he finishes and collapses in a post-****** nap.
she is forced to rise after her body’s beating, juggle his child, do the dishes, start boiling the water, prepare his dinner, crack open a beer, unscrew the anti-freeze and pour just enough all with one hand and all before he wakes.
he tells her to sweep the floor but the dust pads her footsteps so she doesn’t wake him and she’s happiest when he’s asleep.
he’s happiest when he has something to complain about, something to force himself into, some cavity to cram in the name of pleasure.  

women are wild horses grazing in forgotten fields, unrequited and unchained beauty admired only by the sun.
women are the lone wolves, leading from behind.
women are the taste of freedom ****** out by a man with hands around her neck and hot breath in her ear asking if she likes it, asking if she wants it harder.
women are the smell of iron and sticky fingerprints, painting red-black odes into cotton canvases, where society can’t stipple or staunch the flow of freedom.
women are mothers before birth to unruly grab-me-a-beer-babe men tossing ***** clothes to a fresh mopped floor and telling her the place is a pit.
women are anger buried beneath flesh, a bubbling riot up and out of their mouths in the form of what they call crazy and what we call just plain tired.

she hands him his beer, smiles as she adjusts the baby.
here, she says, you deserved it.
she tastes those words, the way they weigh heavily on her tongue like stones tossed into a lake to drown.
she tastes those words, the same words he said to her the first time he painted her eye a pretty bruise-blue, pulled her hair like reigns like he actually believed he could control how she built herself.

At all times
We are loved
At all times
We are looking
Inside trying to
find the truth
At all times
We doubt
We wonder
Why we are here
At all times
We question
Ourselves
We wonder
Why things
Are the way
They are
At all times
We must
Remember
We are whole
We are loved
To make it
Through the day
You must
Remember
At all times
My friend so
You can make
It through the day
Never forget the
Lessons from your past
At all times
Never let go
Of who you are inside.