you said you couldn't
fall in love

did you mean
with me
or someone else?

i would like to think there's
some kind of hope
some kind of light
some kind of love
that we can share
when we are less
broken

i don't want to fix you
but maybe
i can help you
to pick up the pieces
and buy the glue
that i know will work
because i have
used it
before

i believe that a glass is half empty
or half full
depending on which way
the liquid is going
if you fill it halfway
it is half full
if you dump out half
it is half empty

i feel like half of me
has been dumped out
and i can't manage to care
about him or you
all i want to do is hurt myself
"because i probably
have it coming anyway"
and i'm sorry

i know it's a lie
i do care
i care a lot
but i feel so numb
i don't feel care right now
and i'm sorry

and all i want to do
is be drunk
and be touched
and be loved
and i don't know
if it's a good idea
because you are broken and so am i
and i am sorry

and in less than four hours
you will know
exactly how
broken
i am
and i am sorry

I don't want to think about you anymore

I can't get the things you said to me out of my head

Please just let me sleep

I wonder if she knows,
that when she speaks
with a voice
low and smooth,
I become ashamed of my own.

I wonder if she knows
I watch her sometimes
and envy each breath.
I admire everything about her...
her poetry is simple but stunning
her laugh infectious
her smile is kind
and her eyes are bright.

I heard about her,
years before,
and had a picture in my mind.
I know her now
and the picture has not changed
if only to make it better.

I envy her confidence
I admire her every movement.
If she were famous I'd own all her movies
and do what I do now,
watch and learn
and try to be as great as she.
Her talent is unwasted
as all who know her love her.
How is it she's so grand?

The boys, they look,
they see,
they know she is the most beautiful girl in the room
they know they want her
they know,
as I know,
that she's worth it.
that she deserves it.
that she should be happy.

I wonder if she knows,
this poem is about her.
I wonder if she knows
I wish I could be even an inch similar to her.
It's not cruel envy and jealousy I hold for her,
but complete admiration for the way she carries herself.
She speaks her mind
and shows emotion
clever and funny,
she walks with regality
and is oh so gorgeous.

How is it she seems so perfect?
So poised and gentle and witty-
in not the most poetic terms
I basically think she's really cool,
and wish I could carry myself
in the profound,
glamourous,
respectable,
admirable way in which she does.

How is it she'd ever care to be my friend?
Oh the way she walks,
the way she speaks,
the way the other girls envy
the way the boys look
the way the teachers admire,
she's unafraid to announce her sorrows and fears,
she enters a room with a fierce glamour
and makes her presence known,
as, for her, it should be.

Oh, she is glorious.

and I admire her so.

The only way to really know me,
is to read my poetry.
I've only ever shown my poetry to the internet,
making sure nobody knew who I was,
until I met a boy who read my poetry,
and loved it
and helped me with my problems
and turns out I knew him in reality.
He's a ******* now but that doesn't matter.

I then let someone else see it,
someone I saw in person daily,
that was a big step as I wasn't entirely trusting but-
I think my trust, my faith has been betrayed
As then someone else I knew followed me,
and then someone else,
and then someone else.

No, no,
all these poems I have saved as drafts
because I'm scared-
because I see them in reality
because it's all too much for me.
So it can't go on.

Every now and then,
I'll post a poem or two,
but nothing too incriminating.
But other than that,
this is my farewell.
It hurts because there are poems on here I really do like
but I let one person see my account
and from there too many people
followed me,
too many people who know my name
and face.
that's unacceptable,
I've never wanted that.
They can't know my story,
I don't trust people like that,
people who can touch my skin.

So that's it,
Goodbye Fish and all the poems I wrote here,
goodbye your kind words and likes and follows.
Thank you for taking the time to read my words,
all you lovely strangers.

Farewell, Hello Poetry.

it's like when i saw you
i had woken up from a dream
only to realize
everything that came before
was a nightmare

I'm going to break you
and when I do
you're gonna say I loved you better than anyone ever has

I'm going to make you wish
that we had met later
so that you had learned not to talk
to girls like me

you're going to grow up
and realize that the pretty girl with makeup on her face
and scars on her thighs
isnt worth falling for

I think I'm better.
At many things;
at being a drug user.
Hold up, you're saying, a better drug user?
How could you be better at using drugs?
Isn't the point for addicts to stop using?
Isn't that what makes them better?
Maybe.

I only buy my **** at the lowest of prices,
yet I always make sure it's good quality,
I won't buy it again if it's not.
//
I never use two days in a row,
or at least I try not to.
I don't use like I did anyway.
****, I hardly remember this last summer,
what with all the hydrocodone,
methamphetamine cut MDMA,
***, and alcohol.
I don't think I was sober for more than two days.

But it's not like that anymore.
I don't get high on days I work,
I don't get ****** at school,
I don't drink on weekdays,
I don't pop Molly anymore.

I'm a better drug user.