Plagiarism is the seventh deadly sin of writing
Not only does it hurt the owner, but it also hurts you in time
Why do you need another's words to be noticed and set apart?
Those little red hearts aren't worth **** if it's not your art

Don't you feel incomplete?
Isn't it bitter without the sweet?
Can you not use your own voice?
Do you not feel guilt or remorse?
Don't you have things to say?
Or is likes all you seek in this day?
If that's true,
then I've got news
This won't make you happy
Happy comes from within
(or with some therapy)

But you will not find accolades
in claiming words you didn't say!
If writing is a passion you wish to pursue,
then, by all means, continue
With some practice, you might just be
as good as you lie to make us believe

My home before the last was a hard place
I was in a hard place
You were in a hard place too
We've kind of always been similar in that way
Hell, we share a name
But similar isn't always a good thing
Head-butting was to be expected
With you having two
and mine having horns,
I'm surprised we didn't cause more damage
(We should have torn the roof off old Ward Street)
We were in a hard place
But you bought a hydrangea bush for me
and I... sung along to Dancing Queen
We made the best out of our hard place, Gemini
A basement cleared of cobwebs
Coffee after a hard day of nursing school
However, we also made that hard place
even worse for each other at times
and I'd like to apologize,
but I've never been good at showing weakness
My hands shake
and my eyes become lakes
I'd like to say I've forgiven everything
but this salt still burns

Sometimes, I remember the good before the bad
It feels like that hydrangea is blooming all over again
and I can hear your smile when ABBA plays
I think I'm on the right path,
but I've always been clumsy
So, if you've already made it through,
please be patient as I stumble.
And, hey,
maybe I'll forget what was so hard about that hard place.

I have 17 empty notebooks
This morning it was 16, but I bought another on my way home from work because it was leather bound and on sale
It cost an hour and a half of work
...
So, I have 17 empty notebooks
One is missing a page 
I needed to write down an appointment but I didn't want to ruin the whole book
Another has three pages that are actually written on
It was meant to be a bullet journal but the box marked "bullet journal review" was never checked off
Notebooks three, four, and twelve are actually binders which are usually in a different category but what is a binder if not an evolved journal?
Or maybe they're all subspecies of paper
Its all paper
Paper that speaks, whispering to me in my soft moments when there is nothing to do except worry about all that unfilled space
"We were trees once. We were alive. We were cut down and reshaped to fulfill a larger purpose and this is what becomes of us?"
My guilt turns to anxiety turns to pen clicking and that makes it worse, reminding all 18 of us that I am perfectly capable and yet wholly unwilling
It's not like I haven't tried
All of those notebooks were bought with a specific use in mind
Well, they were all bought and then later justified by thinking of a use that I knew would never come to fruition
Bullet journal, grimoire, dream journal, poetry journal, school journals
...
So, I have nearly 17 mostly empty notebooks in a drawer
They used to sit on my shelf but it didn't seem right placing those empty vessels amongst a universe of universes and filled pages
Like parking my totaled '97 Toyota Corolla next to a Porsche
So they're in a drawer with a few torn shirts I keep meaning to turn into patches, a barely used oil pastel set, and a dusty Bass for Dummies book
So maybe this is a lesson 
Maybe I'm making oceans out of puddles
Maybe this is a metaphor for my life and all of its wasted time and blank pages; blank from the months I spent lying on a couch, wrapped up in the cold snow blanket of fear and regret
I regret so much and the more I regret the more anxious I become the more unlikely I am to get up and pick my story back up the more pages pass by as barren as the day is short
Or Maybe
Maybe I should just stop buying new notebooks

There will be days
when it feels like the sun
is trying to burn you alive
There will be weeks
when it feels like the moon
is your only friend
And there will be months
when it feels like you live on
cigarettes and instant ramen
These are the bad times
We're still in the bad times
but I'm trying to get better
for you

you and i have been the moon and sea
clouds and trees
never and infinity

we have been earth and sky
day and night
from the darkness comes your light

it's in your sea salt tears
my stardust air
you and i are everywhere

we shall meet again
death is not the end
in another life
our story begins

It was me, not you.
It wasn't the right time.
I was still getting over my last poem.

We can still be friends,
but when I say friends,
know what I mean is friendly.
Know that I won't save your seat at my table.
They are all taken by my books
my clothes
my love for another.

But when I say friends,
also know that, years later,
when the pain that first brought you to me
is as distant and hazy
as the smoke from my first bridge burned,
I'll smile when I see you;
Note how the core of you is unchanged.
Even with your new look,
your melody rings the same.

Self care is showering 
for the first time in a week
It's remembering to eat
And pushing through my anxiety 
when the phone rings

Self care is gritty
It's ***** and rough and almost living

Learning to love myself is a dark, twisted path
full of thickets and chiggers 
and shadows trying to lure me astray

It's trying to understand
that I am worth more than my broken parts
That I can be more than a peach pit heart
with arsenic pumping through my veins

Self care is knowing no one can save me from me
I will rescue myself
I can be my own hero

Self care is broken knuckles and ****** knees
from fighting my own castle walls
It is meeting myself in a battle of will
and being aware I might not succeed

Self care is pushing on,
when all the signs scream run away,
because I've been running for too long

So, at least for now,
I'll face the danger of self care

I no longer have all of my
soul.
Shards lost and stolen so long ago,
by monsters and men,
both great and small,
have left me with hardly enough love to spare.

I no longer have all of my
mind.
Thoughts fading and forgotten with time,
as others became,
both great and small,
have left me wishing for the past to return.

I no longer have all of my
heart.
Fragments given and never returned,
for unjust causes,
both great and small,
have left me regretting more than I can bear.

My Heart, Mind, and Soul
are missing many parts, but
you can have what's left.

i feel a strangeness in the air this winter
what do you call progress while standing still?
or growing inside the box?
is this what normal is meant to feel like?
cloudy skies
eyes
mind
i've lived a thousand eons in snow
and i fear the eve of my spring is farther still

I come from the land of grime
Of slaps and snack cakes and stray cats
And many petty crimes

I caught lice eight times before I  started school
My world was loud and I thought those anger fits were the norm
But that's how it is when you're raised by fools

I come from that side of town
With drugs and ****** and broken swing sets
And everything tinged brown

Here is where we wallow in mold and **** -
All the things you'd scrap off the bottom of your shoe
And somehow the streetlights were never lit...

But this was my world
This is my world

I was quite literally dragged through the mud
And every time I staggered back to my feet
I was swept away again by a sudden flood
Or shoved back down beneath the elite

Now when I tell you this is where my soul was forged
With red hot fury of the beaten and the ******
Do not mistake me for a simple woman scorned
For that is only a title for what makes me who I am

When I say my heart was shaped by the hands of vile men
And the hesitant, shaking fingers of those as fragile as me
You need to know that this is the reason for my estrangement
Though am I not defined by those who touched me with greed

Where I come from shaped me
But there is much more lying beneath

I am grime and mold and crime
I am daisies and fire and bumblebees
I am salt and Twizzlers and a loosened vault

And this I can proudly claim:
I am no longer ashamed

In the air, the soft buzzing of my desire
My bed, yours
My peace, yours
My heart, yours
There is little I can do but surrender to you

Little girl, what happened to you?
Little girl of chocolate milk 
and dandelions

You were so free
Sure you cried easy,
but you laughed freely too

Little girl, what have I done to you?
Little girl of day dreams
and make-believe

Your heart was so big
Maybe it was bruised at times,
but it always bounced right back

Little girl, I'm so sorry
You would be so disappointed 
to see what we've become

I lost you over time,
piece by piece,
like an old lego set

Out of broken glass
and cigarettes,
we became something new

It's hard to believe I was once you
That I was ever so pure
Now I'm what we never wanted to be

Little girl, I miss you
Little girl, I need help
Little girl, please come back

When you die, I promise to care
I'll remember how you were before
And forget when you weren't there

I'll speak of those summers past
Our smiles and laughter
"Oh, how those days went too fast!"

Recall the life we so adored
Relive those memories one more time
Then finally close the door

Dear, mother, I swear to you this
If only you promise to sleep in bliss

I am constantly rewriting lines
I am always retracing my steps
I am stuck reworking my code
I am lost in reconfiguration

A skipping records plays
(plays, plays, p-p-plays)
and I am caught in-between
here and there and where I want to be

I don’t mind the distance
until it’s three in the morning
and all I have are empty sheets

I don’t mind the distance
until I’m coming home from work
and you’re going to sleep

(I don’t know how to do this)

I miss you with every passing thought
I miss you with every wonder I’ve ever had
I miss you with every second that’s lost
I miss you with all the dreams in my head

I don’t mind the distance
until you’ve been sick for two weeks
and my comfort is a long empty street

I don’t mind the distance
until you’re baring your traumas
and these shoulders can’t reach

(but I know I wanna try)

I love you more than the space between us
I love you more than the night sky has empty space
I love you more than the sun longs to warm the earth
I love you more than I hate the miles between our hearts

In my midnight daydreams there is no distance,
because my heart is with yours
and it beats to the tune of fate and happy endings
My soul has known yours for an eternity
and what is a couple hundred miles
compared to our truth of infinities

I don't know what I'm doing anymore
I don't know where I'm going
or how to get there
Most days, I feel like a parked car at a green light
Other days, I don't feel like anything at all
Is this what life is?
How do people stand it?
Why didn't anyone warn me?
Where is the revolution for living?
Maybe nobody cares
More likely, they're just too tired to live
Everything is so hard
I'm tired too

She lived too fast
Loved too hard
Felt too much

The experiences built up
up and up
They piled all around, clouding her vision
Closing her eyes was easy

The loves crashed hard
harder each time
Those losses created cracks, shattering her heart
Stopping her heart was welcome

The pain came often
so, so often
That hurt brought shadows, darkening her soul
Releasing her soul was freedom

Life became dull
Love turned sour
Feeling was weak

She stopped

somehow, i never learned to run
i was once told i move like a drunk newborn camel
and, admittedly, that is not entirely inaccurate

im from a family of shaking hands
bullet hole egos
and wobbly knees
all of us clumsy with our hearts and each other

its no wonder i trip over my own apologies
stumble at a pretty smile
falter at opportunity
this is apples and trees all over again
and nobody likes bruised fruit

i am all bruises
i am fall over anything
fall for everything
fall into everyone

there is a secret to moving gently that no one wants to share
and maybe i dont want it anyway
i am the bull and the world is my china shop

i am not afraid of falling
i am not afraid of bruises

i am a crash course in wrecking *****

He says, "Today's generation is going to ruin the world"
He says, "Today's music is trash"
He says, "Today's media is brainwashing the children"

And I can't help but wonder
how utterly exhausting it must be to hate that much
With all that darkness clouding your vision,
did you notice how bright the sky was today?

When was the last time you played in the rain?
When was the last time you walked through the woods?
When was the last time you told someone you loved them?
When was the last time you felt happiness? 

He tells me I know nothing about growing up
about hard work
about life

And that may be true
I don't know much,
but I know there is a fine line
between growing up
and giving up

They carve away my saccharine heart,
arteries and all,
leaving behind a peach pit
encased in cyanide walls

The sugar would have killed me -
the sentimentality cementing me in the past
They meant to set me free,
but there is little worse
than choking on my own apathy

Follow my softness all the way to the cliff's edge
Let me show you there is no fear in falling
Please show me there is no fear in falling
We stand at the precipice of everything,
galaxies and dandelion wisps as far as the eye can see
Take my hand, love
Take my hand
Let us jump into the void with certainty;
With the knowledge that there is no end
Let us not wish for one
Let these feet never touch solid ground again

The white expanse is
Stifling in its liminality
Limitless in its containment

There is no here or where
Before or after
Just now
Just this endlessly eternal instant

so i am not a peach
or a peach pit
there's no cyanide laced sweetness in these veins

so this was a choice
or lack thereof?
nothing grows without effort
and i have a belly full of seeds to prove it

swallow your tongue
swallow your guilt
rinse it down with moonlight
and then swallow your hope

blame the lack of blooms on bad genes

so this is the truth
or it almost is
i am the wilted sapling of my own neglect

Like a stale cup of joe
and cigarette smoke
Like endlessly writing
and saying nothing
Like crying for no reason
to match the rainy season
Like the void is too strong
and I'm barely holding on

Whoever said distance makes the heart grow fonder
was a **** liar
or, maybe, they had a stronger heart than mine,
which is likely.
I smoke too much.
Either way, it doesn't seem to apply to me.
Distance makes my heart forgetful.
Somehow, I've only just realized
it's been twelve days since we last spoke
through words on a screen.
Fifteen since your voice was last deconstructed
and sent to me through signals in the air that I breathe.
Months have passed from that day you don't remember.
The day I said goodbye;
my heart heavy with finality.
How is that possible?
How can I go days without thinking about you?
You were the fox to my hound,
the Piglet to my Poo,
the Abed to my Troy.
I said once that I felt our connection was severed
and I think I actually understand what that means now.
It means when I saw an old lady
drive her car through someone's lawn,
my first thought wasn't how funny you'd find that.
It means when I listen to our favorite band,
I no longer recognize the lines you love.
It means that when I think of family,
there is no one left.
It means my new neighbor no longer offers me sugar
because I don't look so bitter anymore.
You were the last person I had.
Now, all I have is ghosts and a forgetful heart.

Is there a word for the feeling of desperate hopelessness that only presents itself in the early hours of warm mornings? Is there a word for when you can actually feel a bond you have with someone begin to fray? Is there a word for the way the sun sometimes shines through a window and you can suddenly see an entire galaxy of dust?

There should be. I think whatever the word is, it must be the same for all three.

Being away from you feels like needle pricked heart
Feels like every passing grain of sand
drives a canyon between us
For every moment we're apart
another ray of sunshine is drip-dripping from me
Like the faulty faucet in my bathroom,
baby, I just need a caring hand
A hug and a band-aid and a promise for tomorrow
But, until then,
sunshine rains in my gut 
and my sink still leaks

No one talks about how hard it is to leave
Being the one who walks away
can break a heart just as thoroughly as being left
I should know
I have played both parts of this story

I should not have to feel guilty for choosing me
when you chose yourself long before
This was not selfishness
This was self-preservation 
I won't let myself regret learning how to swim

...

Sometimes I regret not drowning with you;
I wonder what it's like sleeping in a bed of seaweed,
but this is a bad train of thought
and I will not go down this path again
I'm still actively picking me

Some might say I should have taught you to swim as well
or pulled you back to safety,
but we both know I tried
I fought like hell trying to pull you out of that self-made current
Maybe I just wasn't strong enough

I don't know what I'm trying to say
I'm sorry?
I'm not sorry?
The effects of our friendship still have me spluttering on the shore,
coughing up saltwater and unspoken apologies

i wear this weariness like a hand-me-down jacket
(too broad for these shoulders
frayed at the heart stitched on my sleeve
a mess of patchwork band-aids and safety pins) -
not well

still, it's cold and
these loose threads are more comfortable than anything new
through rain and even more rain
i march on, no longer hoping for shine
the water from every glass half spilled beats down on my shoulders,
soaks through all my layers,
drowns me from the inside-out
but we have faced worse than water-logged lungs
and a driftwood heart

darker clouds gather a hundred lives past the horizon

some storms come to pass,
some storms seem to last forever
sometimes the thunder clap is your own heart,
beating, pumping, urging you forward

through the storm
i weather the weight of a thousand whispered disappointments
(dreams
hopes
realities),
shrouded in my family's shadows
disguised as a hand-me-down jacket

So this is how it ends?
All of the fizzle and bang and loose threads?
Saltwater wounds, tightrope casualty, red burning throats
This is not laryngitis 
This is my heart shredding it's home, trying to escape
And maybe it learned it from you
Saw the escapist make her out of a trap called loyalty,
decided it wanted to give it try,
realized too late that you can take yourself out of a home
but the pain always follows

As a child, the adults in my family called me Bubba Gump
because Bubba almost sounded like my first nickname
and I have legs like Forest Gump.
When I ran, they would call out "Run, Bubba, run!"
and I would laugh because I didn't understand their cruelty.

I was put into the Gifted class when I was eight
and my mom was so proud of me.
She once referred to the class as special
and, since I already spoke with a stutter,
my aunts and uncles turned special into an insult.

My canine teeth stick out from the rest
and when I smile, that's all people see.
By fourteen, I had come to understand
that odd physical features and mean names
are a package deal, so
I came up with "vampire teeth", to let people know
I was aware of my abnormality.

I was drawn with an unsteady, jerking hand
and I'm okay with that.
It's become second nature to point out my own flaws
with a laugh in my throat.
I can see how uncomfortable people get when I do this
because it's okay for them to notice,
but not for me to notice them noticing.
Well, that's fine.
I'm just not going to apologize for my jagged lines.

I.
I look both ways when crossing the street
even if the light is green and it's 3 am.
I sleep with a light on and my door locked,
though I know the danger of locking the door
counteracts the safety of the light.
I don't drink, even in trusted company
and I definitely don't let it bother me that I'm missing out.
I've learned from other's mistakes.
II.
I cry when scolded by authority figures,
but not when I've been betrayed.
I never go to sleep on time
especially when I really should.
I say everything on impulse
and shut down when faced with anything I don't like.
I don't learn from my own mistakes.

I grew up as a peach
I was full of water
and a pinprick would open a dam
I had soft skin
that bruised easily
I was bright and delicious
and everyone wanted a bite

I have become a cactus
I'm still full of water
though a pinprick ain't worth a ****
I have soft skin
protected by spines
I am rough and unpleasant
and no one dares to take a bite

Baby, I can't keep doing this
I am on my knees so often
my feet have started to atrophy
and I have taken your maybes
and somedays,
threaded them into
the worlds most pathetic rosary
In place of a cross 
there is only the highway between us
"Holy Abbey, forgive me of this love
but don't let this be our hour of death
Say you love me too
and I will kiss every inch of asphalt
between my heart and yours
until my mouth is bruised and ******,
but still begging you to stay
Amen"

Slow down, butterfly heart
You're pumping life too fast
It disturbs the hummingbirds
fluttering through my mind
Take a beat
Be calm
I will inject daisies into my veins
so you have a place to rest

Little girl wanders through the woods -
lost, shrunken, and barefoot
She leaves small holes in her wake,
Hansel and Gretel-ing a path of lost and unfound 

Little girl is searching for something
she buried and abandoned long ago
A pirate searching for hidden treasure
with no map and waning hope

Her heart
She knows it must be here
The one in her chest is wrong
It's too cold
and beats to a tune she's never heard
It reminds her of ravens
and their slow, melancholy flight
Far too unlike the sparrow's flutter
she was once so familiar with

Little girl has become frightened;
convinced this new heart will **** her
The honey in her veins has been replaced
with arsenic and vinegar and spite

Little girl needs her sparrow heart back,
feeling like a different person without it
She has no love or passion now
and mistrusts any kindness in others

Like an abused dog
The helping hand that cares
is a curled fist waiting to happen
and though she knows the saying,
she cannot help but to bite
Anyone who comes too close says,
"She's a good girl, but be careful
That one comes with a sharp wit
and a sharper bite"

Little girl grows more tired every day
She can't take much more of this;
of the endless search for something
that's too far gone to return

Little girl stands at the edge of the woods,
having admitted to herself a hard truth
She'll never get her old heart back, 
but this new one has potential if she let's it grow

On the edge,
with darkness behind and light ahead,
she's split on what to do
She looks ahead and knows
all she needs is water and sunlight
to help this new self bloom
She looks behind and knows
all she wants is a little more time
to remember who she was before
Moving forward is painful, but right
Going back is useless, but safe
Old heart or new?
All she needs to do is choose

They say you can't win if you don't play and,
yeah, maybe quitters never win but they never lose either
They simply exist
I simply exist
No playing into societal rules about what makes me acceptable
Don't you want to be pretty? they ask
Don't you want love?
Don't you want to people to like you?
No.
******* and your approval
I like me and like that I quit

I'm feeling a little broken recently
My mind is a little too foggy
Like my heart is a little too gray
Like, maybe, this isn't quite right

I'm feeling like I already knew this
That denial is a hell of a thing
It's easy to pretend in the summer
It's easy to forget how bad it can be

There is something to be said about
the false comfort found in warm weather

The sun knows the perfect way to
make the storm clouds seem a little softer
How to make moonlit nights a little less lonely
How to make the future shine a little brighter

But the comfort of summer is fading now
and everything is a daunting shade of grey

I have never been fond of winter
and she has never been kind to me

My room is clean
but there's still dust
The books are put away
but not in order
The sheets are on my bed
but it's not made
The laundry is done
but not put away

My mom would call this Spring cleaning
I'd say it's just me getting better
and she'd tell me they're one in the same
She knows a thing or two about dusty shelves
and cobweb corners

I cannot be still
My mind runs
My legs bounce
My hands twitch
I wander
I don't know the meaning of permanence
Everyone leaves
Everything changes
How am I supposed to put down roots
when my life is a constant landslide?

I used to think it was strange
that we became estranged
It burned me up internally 
that we weren't friends eternally
I somehow didn't understand
that we held destruction in our hands

Leaky roofs and faulty wires
tend to cause house fires
and, sister, we burned them all
so, it's no surprise we had to fall

Our laughter was a siren's song
Banshees wailed all night long
With my lightning and your rain 
we became a sunny day's bane

I was naive to think before
the world could stand our perfect storm

Ah, there she is
Do you see her?
Yes, her
Eyes soft,
like morning dew
Inviting smile,
like a summer morning
"Who is she?"
...If only I knew

I never thought I could relate to a planet,
but today I learned Pluto's heart is a frozen wasteland.

"Goodbye, I guess..." :
The last words I spoke to you
and I saw that look in your eyes
like you weren't able to understand
what was going on.
Like you were Tod and I was Widow Tweed
in that scene you loved but I hated
because I couldn't handle the pain in those fox eyes.
(Goodbye may seem forever,
Farewell is like the end)
I felt our connection fray
and I was no longer grasping at threads,
trying to keep us together like I said I always would.
I'm sorry I broke my promise
but you broke a hundred of yours first.
I jogged away, hoping the momentum
would keep me together for a little while longer.
Still, my heart resisted, begging to go back
and I compromised, glancing to where you were
only to see empty space on a forever haunted sidewalk.
(But in my heart's a memory
and, there, you'll always be)

Perfectionist I am,
but able am I not
A look inside my mind
and all you'll find is rot

True worry it may bring
to witness all this waste;
to look behind the mess
and see my living space

But worry not, dear sweet
for rain is coming soon
to wash away my past
and all the sadness too

The Spring is rolling in
along with all its age
I'll be okay again
and then I'll clean this place

They say you'll spend the new year
the same way you spend it's eve,
but I pray that's not true
because a year without you
might be the end of me

Come wade through 
my blue eyes' shallow pool
Tread careful across
my heart's unsteady floorboards
Do not fall for
my laughing throat's pretty words
Bundle up against
my mind's drafty corridors

Careful now, love
Many dangers lurk here

There's something wrong with me
I know it
I feel it
In the pit of my chest
A dull ache
I want to plunge myself into a lake and breathe

my mind is an abyss: completely devoid of any original thought

I'm waiting in line and
There's a dark space ahead
In the other queues, people move on
and come out different
I cannot step in

The girl behind me says
"Miss, it's your turn."
As if I'm simply distracted
and not brimming with fear
I cannot step in

People are moving to other lines
I'm an inconvenience
The cashier smiles
and motions me forward
I cannot step in

I shift my head around,
trying to see what lies within
There's nothing there
It's worse than I expected
I cannot step in

I've been here for years
People whisper about me;
About the girl who won't move
and how she likely never will
I cannot step in