red blood cells live for about four months
white blood cells can live for over a year
skin cells live about two to three weeks

slowly, hour by hour
day by day
week by week
month by month
year by year
my body will die and replace itself

and surely enough
some day
eventually
i will have a body you never touched
and hair you never pulled

Breathe deeply
and lengthily
so as to avoid
becoming light headed.

You are so beautiful to me
and I want you to want me
as I want you.
I want you to read these words
the way I read the ones you write about
a boy better than me.

"eyes are the windows to the soul"
or so i've been told

for some reason you enjoy
staring into my eyes
and i always look away

because if eyes really are the windows to the soul
im terrified you'll discover
that my soul is full of pain and sorrow
my windows are shattered
and the glass shards might cut you badly

so i'd rather keep you wishing
than let you down

because when you stare into my eyes
you wont see vast blue skies
through unclouded glass
you'll see a thunderstorm
through a shattered window pane

i was hoping that if you kissed me enough
in places where i thought i was dead

flowers would grow

but i am not a garden
and my dear,
you are far from a dose of fresh water and sunlight

It only takes four or five
of those little yellow pills
to make me wonder why I ever sobered up.

My thoughts aren't lingering
and piercing the inside of my skull
as they have been.
Maybe tonight, for the first time in four days I'll be able to sleep more
than three hours.
Maybe I won't wake up shivering
before having to run to the bathroom to lose whatever dinner I managed to eat.

It had been thirteen days since I swallowed, snorted, smoked, or drank
any form or derivative of opiates, and now it's been 45 minutes.

Immediately after I took half of what I had, I dumped the rest in the toilet,
contemplating purging my stomach of any narcotics.
I figured if I had made it this long without even feeling the urge to partake of that which is hidden in a gold lipstick case under my bed, that I could reward myself.
I dumped it down the toilet so I may not use it again tomorrow as the temptation will be stronger than it was an hour ago.

I'm sorry if you have read this far,
as it means very little to you,
but getting these words down,
getting my thoughts down
helps me understand them.

She writes poetry .
I'm not sure,
I'm not one to judge,
but I think it's very good.

It makes me laugh and smile.
It makes me stop and think.
It makes me happy to be in the same room as her.

She listens to hip hop
and reads J.D. Salinger.