It's 5am and she is awake
Something woke her from her fitful sleep
She wanders the halls
          each step getting colder
Taking in the photographs on the walls
She sees a smiling beautiful couple
She wonders if they're  not just the doppelganger, their double
           she sees movement out of the                       corner of her eye
She stops to stare at one in particular
Back then, her hair fuller, nails thicker  
          a soft, cool breeze upon her neck
Then he fell into the water, never to come up for breath    
Since then, she too has wished for death
            she believes she hears his voice whispering in her ear
Today though death will not come
              "I am here waiting for you to come to me"
The sun is up, death is again gone 
                *she turns her head, nothing to see

Some girls like me are full of heartache and poetry and those are the kind of girls who try to save wolves instead of running away from them

My heart feels old today
it rattles like a stone in a can.
My eyes feel cold today
as they strain for gems in a prospector's pan.
My feet feel heavy today
trudging the ruts I've created time and again.
My thoughts feel tired today
they eloped with all hope and ran.

when last have i had a 3am kind of conversation,
with my star like emotions scattered all over the darkest parts of me,
mimicking the sky,
my moon like persona that always returns back to hiding me away.  
when last have i felt safe enough to let somebody in,
to not have visions of my vulnerability being tied to the bed after he locks the door behind him,
his voice like some sort of broken record that keeps on repeating that
"it's gonna be okay."
when last have i had a shoulder to cry on that isn't my own,
for my neck to stop worrying that the tear filled sea on either side won't get waves big enough to drown me.  
when last okay,
when last has it felt good to be me.

Please don’t call me beautiful
when your hands are between my legs,
and god forbid you say it as a seg-way
between you’re so hot
and my caution, your response
you’re sure you don’t want to?
I’m pretty sure the way my body looks,
nineteen and stress-infused with an Oreo belly
isn’t really what you pictured beneath my blouse,
and I’m positive you didn’t listen
to the story about my dad and the bad prom dress
because you cared. It was just sentiment. You said it was beautiful,
but really you wanted me to believe the act
like a description in the Playbill
and ride that trust all the way until the curtain dropped.
Please don’t call me beautiful
when the word ******* is before it
or if we are ******* because making love
is for married couples and you don’t even want me
sticking around for the ****** sunrise that peers
underneath your shade every morning.

Tell me I’m beautiful when I’m crying—
crack me open and watch the colors bleed
like a painting that hasn’t dried. Admire
the light that peaks through the clear parts
like a windowpane, no blinds.
Tell me I’m beautiful when I’m laughing,
when I’m reading my favorite part of a book,
when I’m stuffing my face with peanut-butter
pretzel bites and I haven’t washed my sheets in weeks,
and I’ll know you can’t be lying
because I’ve listened to the waves your heart makes
when you’re sleeping and I’ve called your smile
to the surface many times when you’ve tried
to deflect it back inside. You’ll know that
and you’ll know I’m beautiful.  
Call me beautiful
when you’re not even trying.
Call me beautiful when you’re by yourself
and the smell of my hair is still on your pillow,
or the memory of how dumb I sounded
singing my favorite song breaks your heart back
to the best little pieces.

you.
talking about court cases
and history of law.

you.
casually talking about
****** connotations
in some poem or other
when I still try to find them
in your smiles.

you.
talking.

I had moved on from that
a while ago
but when you mention

well, anything, really

I still kind of
lose
my mind.

you'd think after years I'd be used
to your eyes and your hips
and the way that you speak and
your voice, how it sounds, but
I'm not, I am

always
over you.

except when you're
around.

I hate* how easily you can make me smile
And I hate how it only lasts for a while
I hate the warm feeling that invades my heart
Every time you take something simple and turn it into art
For seeing through your eyes was a privilege from the start

I hate how I laugh at every joke you say
And the loneliness that kills me whenever you're away

I hate how easily you climbed over the wall that I spent years to make
And I hate how your crooked smile has left my heart to ache

I hate the dreams that I dream for us
And how they'll never come true
And I hate how I can never be able to share any of them
With you

I hate how you bring out a new side of me
The way you make me feel
So young, wild, and free

I hate how I get excited over the simplest "hello"
And I hate that I love you...
Cuz I gotta let you go.