i hate my ***** stained shirt
it reminds me of wasted alcohol
it reminds me i can't get wasted at all

"you know this is insane," i gasp
carefully dangling my feet
as he kicks back and forth
with force that scares me
for our bodies that will soon
be broken on the ground
if he keeps it up
"i know, and i dare you to tell me that isn't the reason you came."

Exuberant together that they were
Blithe
Did not come easily into their
Life
Admist the tragedies and fantasies
They just didn't chime nicely like car keys

Albeit the urges to not keep
Their friendship intact grew strong
They managed to not weep
Over their relationship that was utterly wrong

she passed by time,
he said
and in that moment
i realized
i wanted
wanted wanted
to pass by time as well
hopefully as gracefully
as she did

our skies appear to be so gloomy
like they're always going to turn into a storm
a storm that will swipe the hopeless thoughts away
i used to look at life differently
i used to not look at life at all
but now i see clearly
the splattered like paint that are our eyes and clouds
the merged shapes and lines that are our houses and anatomies
i know now that all this will pass by like a blur
like it always does
my father tries to spend as much time with my little brothers
when i refuse to, he says
when they've grown up, i'll miss their little selves
oh, i can't guarantee i will
but i do think that he does this
because i've grown up
and he's left to miss my little self
because the people i don't recognize at reunions always tell me how big i am now
and he smiles the same smile every time at them that they seem to understand
and then he shoots me a very different one i've yet to understand

I laugh
At things that aren't funny
I cry sad and happy tears
Over things that don't deserve them
I frown
When I should be smiling
And vice versa
I eat ice cream
When it's cold
I have soup
When it's already hot and humid out
Doing these silly things
Might not help
But I like it that way
I'm messed up like that
But you
Oh
**** you
You're the worst kind of messed up
Because you
Kissed me harder
When you wanted to kiss another
Hugged me tight and whispered,
"I'm not ready to give up on you,"
Repeatedly
When you already had
Looked into my eyes
Told me you cared
Even when you didn't
Because you're just that way
Messed up

Gone was the boy who
popped his collar
And was always, always right
Replaced him was the boy who
prayed at the altar
And behaved humbly with all his might

is it a bad thing
to think about not existing?

you're all better off without me
i decided
but you quickly replied with
that's all just in your head

if that's true then why why why
do you leave me to dry
my own tears as you sit there
and act like you give a care

why why why do you
let me feel so blue
stop smiling at everyone else
and notice you're so dense

so so dense to my pain

"i love you,"
i mumble,
promising him.

what i don't utter are the words

i love you so much i really should be leaving
but i won't
because i can't hurt you
not in that way
not ever like that

"don't fall for the boy who tells you you remind him of someone."

i couldn't help myself,
no,
not when the someone
he was referring to
was his mother

after bowing, clapping is heard
i stop trying to distinguish
the ones out of bitterness and pride

i take it all in
and smile at those who made
all this possible

He's an artist. Always have been one.
Whenever I shy away from his piercing stare he says,
"But you're the canvas,
medium
and the art itself in human form,
you have to let me—
the word I wanna use doesn't exist
but as an artist,
I'd say it doesn't matter."
That makes me give myself away
to him every time.
I'm positive
I'll continue
to give all I can
to that boy as long as he asks for it. Heck, he doesn't even need to ask,
I'd give him anything and everything
in anyway and every way.
All he has to do is
continue giving me that look
in return.
Our relationship
is based on a give and return cycle,
after all.

You'll know you're
One of the many
Messed up people
When you start to think
This way:

If I die a crucial death, will those who love me imagine themselves to be in my place as I'm dying?

You'll know
You're as messed up
As they get
When you start to
Think like I do

i've been thinking about
now
too much that i've forgotten
before's and next times also known as after's
still exist

when i was four saying, "i love you" to mommy was a must.
when i turned seven, love was the boy who tagged everyone else but me. even when i was the slowest runner amongst us players.
then i became fourteen, love became teaching me the math lesson over again because i didn't listen., instead of giving me the homework answers.
and now, i still don't know which love truly is,
but i'm sure of it that
love is the one thing
that's never the same
it's never the same to everyone
it's never the same every time
it's always different
but it's always beautiful.

when you think about it,
nothing ends up mattering
but your thoughts
because that's all you really have
that's all anyone ever has

he didn't catch you when you fell, yes. but didn't he kiss your scraped knee?

i like touching the bumps on their arms as i sniff and finally allow my face to drop
moments like that are drenched with such genuine pain and sincerity and silent understanding with still nodding of heads
how horridly beautiful, those moments are

I HATE HOW BOYS ARE
I HATE HOW HE IS
I HATE HOW GIRLS ARE
I HATE HOW I AM