I think
my
grandma
died.
But I don't talk to my
mom
anymore
so I'm not sure.
I feel numb.
I'm not okay.
I'mnotokay.
I'm done with this.
I want to be done with this.

You don't just get
to
come over and make
small
talk
like everything is fine.
*******.
*******.
You opened the
gates. You gained control
again.
That's what it was about.
You always had to be in
charge.

I keep reading these poems
about love,
fresh love, new love, true love.
But all I can think about
is how
sad, beautiful, heartbroken
these poems will be
when that
love
ends.

I want to fall in love with
a poet/hippie
who loves me
back and who
writes poetry that I get
and
understands that I stay up all night
shoving the nightmares
away.
Somebody who smokes cigarettes, so we can argue about the little things.
Get drunk with me, get high with me.
But not all the time,
we'll have each other.
Let's do silly things, let's mini golf and cook and love and
be lovers.
And hold me tight.
And please. Please.
Please mean it when you say that
you won't go.

It's one of those days
where
I need
a pint of Ben and Jerrys
my blanket
laptop
something to cuddle with.
It's one of those days
where
I need
to be alone.
There's no one
to be
with

I don't think I can take
it
if I see him today.
He doesn't even
*******
go to
college
here.
Washed up loser **** ***.
Stay home and get high and play video games.
That's all you ever wanted,
right.
No responsibility