I am standing atop
a
parking garage.
I am a whirlwind.
I am lightening.
I am thunder.
If I jump
off.
Will I float?
Or will the weight of everything
make me sink.

Today I look up one way tickets on the greyhound and think about

dissapearing.

Its such a
slippery *****.
Cutting
didn't
make me feel
much better. And
yet. I'm wanting
to do it
again

I am not a poet.

I am just a ****** up girl with a skewed perception.

I am composed of heartbreak and battle scars and I try but not enough.
Never enough.

I am not a poet.

I don't know iambic pentameter. I stay up too late and make coffee at the wrong time.

I yell when I get angry and I love too much when I love.

I am begging you to love me. Whoever you are. Fall in love with my poetry, if not with me.

I am not a poet. I am just a young woman tired from life and ready to move forward but too scared to go alone and I want you to hold my hand.

I do not just love you. I also hate you. I am both and I am none.

Do you understand!

I AM NOT A POET!!!!!!

I am not good enough smart enough pretty enough

I will love you until my heart breaks.

I am not
Not
Not
Not
A ******* poet.

I just write out my tears in prose.

I am alone.
I am
alone.
Rescue me. No amount of
indie live songs and
ice cream.
New girl. Popcorn. Sleep.
I am still
alone.
I don't want to live like this anymore.
Pretend to want me. I am
begging you. Take
advantage of me. Please.
I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
I  am alone. And no amount of anything
will
change that.

Yesterday I had my heart
ripped apart
stomped on
shattered till there was
nothing left.
Last night I cut my leg.
And I miss him tonight.
and i miss him tonight.
I know loneliness is a part if life
but
I just want that part to
end for
a little
bit.

I don't love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as certain dark things are loved,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that doesn't bloom and carries
hidden within itself the light of those flowers,
and thanks to your love, darkly in my body
lives the dense fragrance that rises from the earth.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you simply, without problems or pride:
I love you in this way because I don't know any other way of loving

but this, in which there is no I or you,
so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand,
so intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close.