One day, if all that is left of me
are words scribbled across a page,
I shall not feel lost or shamed,
But, feel bodied within this poetry.

i am sitting here. blank face.
counting the ripples on the pool.

one.... two.... ok, enough.

the hairs on my arm?
too many.
too blonde.

practice minor pentatonic scales?
if only i knew what they were good for.
blues scales?
ok.
root, flat third, fourth, sharp fourth, flat seventh, eighth.
[**** i'll be proud if that's right.]

overthink everything.
write way too many poems,
save them all as drafts.
wonder if you'd even respond.
think of calling you.
decide not to.
"your unwanted calls"...
or something that you wrote forever ago,
keeps me away.
you keep me away.
[if only you handled this by saying
maybe in the long run we'll actually get to know each other...
this is for the best.
wouldn't that be grand?
wouldn't that be way better
than some short term relationship
that would just end in this hatred for me anyway?]

i pout,
look out the window,
notice the blue sky.
i wonder why you can't be happy.
i wonder why I can't be happy.

It's useless
Why keep going
It's a big mess
It's all unfolding

It's useless
I can't do this
Everything's gone to ****
Might as well quit

I remember the first time I did it.
I felt so alive, I felt so free,
Then out of the blue addiction took it's hold.
How did it happen that quickly?
I'm not sure I even know.
Before I even turned around
I'd hit rock bottom, I felt so alone.
The bullying was relentless,
physically, verbally and emotionally.
The same old story day after day.
I felt my confidence and my strength slipping away.
There was no hope, no fight,
Nothing left in me to give,
I was cold. I was numb.
Then it all changed. I started to self harm.
At first a scratch would do,
Then it wasn't enough,
It escalated from there.
Soon it wasn't just my arms,
It was anywhere I thought no-one would see.
I felt like I was in control again,
I told myself "If I can do this I can handle any pain".
My box of blades became my best friend.
The bandages hid my secrets well.
Excuse after excuse came easily,
The scars appeared where the cuts had been
No-one knew how loud I wanted to scream.
They couldn't see the hurt inside
They didn't know my soul had died
I still remember the day they were told.
I was only 14 years old.
For 2 years I'd hidden it well.
I stopped for a while,
A few weeks at least.
The bullies didn't stop
If anything it was worse
I tried to take control again,
I believed I could do it
Without causing anyone any pain.
"If I'm better at hiding it no-one will know"
But as it got worse the scars began to show.
For a time it got really bad
It was two or three times a day.
Anytime I was alone,
Whatever I had close by.
I didn't care if I lived or died.
I wasn't trying to end my life
I was simply trying to feel alive.
As the pain inside got worse
So did my addiction.
The more people hurt me
The more I'd hurt myself.
It was that way until a year ago today.
I was inspired by someone who means a lot to me.
They sent me a message that said they believe in me.
Something inside me switched that day.
I felt worthy of love, acceptance and kindness.
I felt valued and worth something in the world.
Looking back I suddenly believed it wasn't my fault,
I didn't deserve this punishment or the hurt inside.
I needed to let go of it all and let myself live my life.
That's what I've spent the past year doing,
Sometimes I am amazed I made it at all.
However I did make it,
And to anyone out there struggling
You will make it too because,
Just like someone believed in me,
I believe in you.

I
     will
            be
                immeasurably
                    happy
                        with
                           you
                            my
                             sweet
                              love

And still
My throat is clenched
And my breathing gets
All too heavy
To the point where
The sound of each
Inhale
And exhale
Echoes in my head
As though
Every other noise
In the room
Has been swallowed up
And my fingers
Start to perspire
With anxiety
Seeping out of each pour
You still have the power
To make me get this
Lightheaded
Dizzy
Nervous
Exhilarating feeling
And make every
Potential word you will say
Get caught up in my throat
And I cling onto it all
With the only justification
I seem to be able to come up with
The only feasible explanation
For this
Occasional momentary insanity
Is that
You were the first.