1
Dearest blue,
Time cannot replace
Time cannot heal
All I can do now is feel,
Feel the weight of your laugh
At 2 AM
Feel the brush of my cry
And how you held my hand.
Dearest blue,
I cannot forget the way you sound
But I can forget that awful way you were found.

17 years of looking for the sun,
and my god how it has let me down

why is it these days that all the good die young?
when there's prisoners and felons waiting to be hung.
see it's only the innocent that get hit by blind eyes
when the bad ones they rot, in an eternity of lies
rapists and killers get visitors daily,
while my sisters lucky if anyone thought about her lately.
my good friends are being mowed down like spring grass
and the convicts are playing checkers and sharing loud laughs
the man who killed my sister is sitting in a cell,
while my sister is lying, 6 feet in the ground
how sad is that my friends are fading
while empty jail cells sit anticipating?

someone told me time heals everything
but time is not gluing my heart together and fixing the spaces where you belonged
time is not erasing the image of your body, lifeless and cold
time is not healing anything
all time does is stall.

You can't love a poet.
Even though, you feel flattered by my witty one liners,
And my charming stanzas, you can't love a poet.
I will write the good and the bad and you won't like it.
You won't like my version of the fight
And you'll like my metaphors even less.
It will drive you crazy and you will tell your friends,
"She's obsessed".
I can't help the memories that stick like glue, imprinted on my brain
And I can't stop feeling the words exchanged 3 Sunday's ago that you forgot as soon as they left your mouth.
I will relive and reread until the end of my days and inevitably you will leave,
because you can't love a poet.
You can't love someone who will publish your intimacy and print your passion.

I've been breathing in everything I hate
Such as the smoke from fire that bellows beneath my feet,
It burns and it scalds and yet,
I do not learn my lesson.
My lungs have become airbags- deflated, charred
It hurts me to breathe but yet,
I do not learn my lesson.

I have been shown the sweet smells from the valley,
The honeysuckle kisses against my dried lips
But nectar is far more vicious than tar.
For it sticks to you like a bad memory
It will coat you in a sweet sickness,
A birth from a joyous hospital room
Honeysuckle kisses upon dry lips,
While they pump you full of the tar.

So while my lungs cannot heave anymore,
And my organs coated with depression
The nectar does nothing but upset my stomach
It causes it to wretch like a screaming baby
Lack of honeysuckle kisses fuels the fire.
I will continue to burn and scald my feet-
But I will not succumb to the iridescence
That will one day leave you sick,
And sticky sweet.

19 years you spent running away,
19 years you spent killing yourself a little more each day
19 years you spent hugging your knees and praying to god someone heard you screaming
19 years you laid there with a stone for a heart
19 years you shielded yourself from everyone and everything
19 years is far too young,
19 years old and you were my sun.

You were laying in a bathtub
And all they did was wash you.
You were alone.
Bruised toes hanging of out the white porcelain.
Your hair, damp and thick with mildew, dripped off my fingers.
And you were alone.
All they did was wash you.
Blue lips, puckered as if to say your final speech
That everyone around you left you alone,
Entirely alone.
Until the only one left to find you,
Was me.

I used to want to be a doctor.
I wanted to save lives and help others,
but now that I am older and have seen how humanity is,
I can't save anyone.
I can barely help myself.
Most mornings,  I struggle to get out of my unmade bed
And sometimes the only way to get dressed is to take those pills.
The ones that are supposed to make me "happy" or some ****.
What is "happy"?
Happiness is becoming a doctor and proving to your parents,
You did it. You made something of yourself.
Happiness is showering at 9 am instead of 3 pm just because you couldn't stop crying.
Happiness is being home alone without the fear of that medicine cabinet.
I am still figuring out what happiness without expectation is,
But there are still days when I want to become a doctor.
Save lives and help others.
But for now, I am saving my own life by helping myself.

Maybe we're growing up and I have yet to realize-
That peanut butter and jelly sandwiches won't be your favorite food forever and that sometimes whiskey tastes better than a lemonade.
But I will still love
As madly and as carelessly
As blowing dandelions into the summer breeze,
while exchanging kisses beneath the hot sun.

If I am cold, it is not by choice
If I am cold it's because of the monsters that burn through my head like forest fires
If I am cold it's because the hot blood that once flowed so freely has been ****** out by the public
If I am cold it's because my heart has harden from the ice that surrounds me
If I am cold it is not because I am mean
It is because society has ripped the cord connecting all feeling to my once beating heart

the earth tilts,
as does my heart

tell me something about you,
but don't talk in metaphors.
don't tell me how your eyes shine in similes,
don't use hyperboles to describe the depth of your words.
talk to me like a ******* ******* person.
tell me you love me and hug me so tight till I beg you to stop.
just be with me, please

Your beauty is not the reason for your existence,
Rather, it is your soul that stirs winds within you,
Guiding you further into your own tornado.
No, my dear, your beauty is only a fraction of the person that you are
With the rest conniving and gloriously consuming all who listen
Incubus, I call you, luring in those who seek satisfaction from broken parts.
Tempt me,
with all the cracks in your heart.

My amour,
You have not yet begun to see your beauty blossom.
I am waiting for the day when you realize you will not fall into ash and your skin will not burn like cigarette paper.
But you will shine like June sunrise with soft heat and white light.
You will glimmer in the wake of destruction,
when everything around you is falling apart.
My amour,
You have not felt your own strength
In passion and love
But I am here
Let me show you

Remember, my dear,
Even the sunshine will return to its darkness

hungry, i breathe into the veins of your neck
and with my tongue, i taste your flesh.
hot breath stains your skin,
as i run my hands over your porcelain body.
hungry, i tear into you.
as you moan for more,
i know that i have won.
you will be begging
and i will be leaving.

I'm not addicted to you, per say,
I'm addicted the 2 am conversations
Where we talk about nothing but
Everything seems to come out.
I'm addicted to the way your voice cracks
When you're tired and you swear me you're not.
Even though I can hear the hum in your voice and haze in your throat.
I'm addicted to the way your brain twirls on end
When you try and comprehend the things you cannot.
I'm addicted to the way your lungs heave in and out,
And how heavenly you look when you can finally breathe.
No, I'm not addicted to you.
I'm addicted to everything that makes you,
You.

i torment myself for my inability to love,
my inability to sense the light after the storm.
i spend my days wondering when,
when will i give myself to another
when will the world be ready?

Please stop calling me nice.
I am not nice.
I will not be contained to a single word,
When my bones are built from metaphors
And my lips leak similes.
I am a fireball of emotion, splitting trees and men in two with my passion for my art.
I am a slurry of terror, creeping up on you at night that curls your toes right before you fall asleep.
I am not nice, I am anything but
I am alive with the summer heat that burns in my eyes and the sunlight that flows through my ribcage.
I am a warrior, a fighter, a solider in disguise.
I am the moon that hides it face in the day, only to showcase it's purity in the night.
I am the stiff wind that knocks the shallow air out of your lungs on a cold, January morning.
I am the tick, tick, tick of the buzzer right before its majestic song.
I am the obscene, the extraordinary, the menacing things in life.
I am not confined by a single word.
I
am
not
nice.

**** the past, the present, and the future
If we even have one.
I want to be strung up and tangled in your mighty grasp,
Gasping for air between wet mouth kisses and clasping your clammy skin.
I want to forget about the ****** up idea of the world and the form it's taken in society,
And instead take in you, between cigarette drags and Southern Comfort swigs.
I want to feel the pulse of your heart as you ignite with excitement underneath me as our hot skin touches and you yearn for me.
Remember my presence, because passion does not come calling when sought,
It finds its way to you.
And if this ****** up world has brought me to you,
Then here it is-
This is the passion stupid girls like me write ****** poetry about.

Don't worry.
We all become famous when we die,
Because in death we find
We have something more to lose.
The humanity in which makes us gasp for air,
Suddenly is ripped from our lungs-
We realize.
We realize that one day we'll all be six feet down,
With nothing but thoughts on a page
That we were too scared to show.

I thought you leaving would be the hardest thing to go through,
But it was me, standing there
Walking away from you.
Like a moth to a flame, I am captured by your light.
The irrevocable longing I feel towards your essence,
Is what frightens me when I leave your side.
I fear not of losing you,
But of you losing me
To your greater journey into the light.
In fact, I even feel like you are superior to me
The way coffee is stronger, more bitter than tea.
Walking away on a cold winter's day,
Is more bone chilling than the snow that coats our bodies.
Kissing you goodbye, too soon for now
Your sweet embrace, embellished by sorrow,
Imprinted on my heart but stained with love.
Letting you leave,
I had to let you leave.

Though I am bore from the tree trunks of this Earth,
I am not steadiness you had hoped.
There is wind in my spirit,
Breaking branches, limb by limb.
And when facing flame,
I, too, will burn at the hand others have placed.

The continuum of existence,
The constant push and pull.
No time left for actual learning,
Just dying undercover,
We're just trying to keep our cool.
So next time you actually think,
Existence is something more than a series of points
Plotted on a paper graph,
Remember this, my child,
Life is ****,
It's just waiting for us to quit.

everything you told me
doesnt mean ****
when me and her
coexist

i’ve felt more at home
cradled inside words
and rocked to sleep by stanzas
then ever being in your bed
i’ve felt growth most
when i’m speaking in tongue
and writing rhythms,
then ever talking to you
you planted my soil
then let me choke on it,
while you ****** the life from it.
i’m growing flowers and life inside
of this body,
i am reclaiming
the revelation
that has started it all
i am washing my art down my body
feeding myself with the love and passion
you never showed me
in this moment i am growing
and my art is ever flowing

I found your bracelet in my underwear drawer.
I put it there because I wanted it to be surrounded by delicate things,
And it reminded me of the way you pushed back that blue hair
With one fell swoop.
It reminded me of the gentle way you'd wrap me
In your arms and whisper in my cold ears,
"You're my best friend."
It reminded me of the way you so softly laid in that tub,
Porcelain skin shining and glassy doll eyes.
You were delicate.
Like the way those soft pin ****** lined your fleshy skin
I wanted what was left of your delicacy,
To be surrounded by beauty.
Because beauty is only found in pictures now
And delicacy is only how you live inside my chest.

SAME PLACE DIFFERENT SEASON
EVERYTHING I THOUGHT I LOVE TURNED TO SHADES OF GRAY
I FINALLY LOOKED TO GOD
AND ALL HE TOLD ME WAS TO SHUT THE **** UP
LEAVE ME TO WASTE CAUSE I'LL NEVER BE WHOLE
UNSATISFACTION HAS BECOME A DAILY EMOTION
NO HEART NO FAMILY
NO LOVE LOST
NO LOVE FOUND

i don't know how it happened
it all just sort of did
the first time you burrowed yourself inside my chest
was the last I ever hid.

you're an artist, truly you are.
you took my body and made it your canvas,
smoothed my wrinkles and unfolded my ends,
you painted and painted, stroke upon stroke
poured love and tender care into each flick of your wrist.
till one day, you stopped.
artists block, you called it.
no inspiration, my fault.
your smooth strokes turned to angry screams
crumpling and ripping each page of me,
stabbing my canvas, torn with headaches
so yes, you are an artist.
and now I know why I can no longer draw.

you are the difference between hell
and home

there are flaws in our systems,
perpetual moving parts that do not yield the same results,
there are flaws in all of us
we are jumbled messes created out of flesh and blood.
from heartache to pain,
the only constant is the flaws we face
that is what comprises our identity.

I STOLE A LOOK AT YOU WITH MY BURNT EYES AND FIERY TONGUE
I WOULD **** TO SEE YOU CRY ACID TEARS THAT POURED LIKE RAIN ON METAL
I STILL REMEMBER YOUR BUBBLING TEMPER BURNING BRIDGES WITH STICKY SWEET LIES. ALL MY LIFE ALL I NEEDED WAS A FRIEND AND ALL YOU WERE DOING WAS GETTING HIGH. YOUR MIND WAS LIKE THE NIGHT SKY DARING A SHOOTING STAR IN YOUR GLASSY EYES. I DON'T KNOW WHATS WORSE, MY ADDICTION TO THE PAIN OR YOUR BREATH ON COLD GLASS WHISPERING SOFT I LOVE YOUS IN MY COTTON CANDY DREAMS. YOU WERE ALL I NEEDED YOU WERE ALL I NEEDED TO MAKE MY HEART GLOW LIKE A GEM OR BURN ME LIKE THE FUSE WE LIT WHEN YOU DECIDED TO TAKE ME HOSTAGE TO YOUR EARTHQUAKES. I WAS THE GIRL IN THE WALL AND YOU WERE PLAYING GOD IN THE CLOUDS. BUT TRYING TO LOVE YOU WAS LIKE TRYING TO SWIM IN THE DESERT AND MAYBE I GAVE UP TOO EASY BUT THE SCARS I OWN ARE LIKE GRAFFITI SO I WROTE AND I WROTE AND I WROTE THE STORY I THOUGHT I KNEW THE MOST BUT NOW I SEE THE CRUMPLED TRAGEDIES WE'VE BECOME AND IT KILLS ME TO BE THIS NUMB. YOU CALLED ME ARMAGEDDON AND I GUESS YOU WERE RIGHT CAUSE ALL WE EVER WERE WAS 2 VINES TANGLED UP IN A FIGHT, A 10PM PUNCH AND KISS GOODNIGHT. SO DON'T CALL ME A LOVER IN FACT DON'T CALL ME AT ALL.

Seeking love in pain
Vultures prey on emptiness,
Fear no recourse here.

Love is the greatest myth we tell each other
So that we don't worry about being miserable
Alone.

the one thing i miss most about love
is having someone who loves the way you breathe
the simplest kind of love
where your air flows within me
the love that speaks volumes with a single glance
i miss love because i miss the way it feels to have hands through my hair
i miss the heartbeats you have
one for one another

love me
or leave me,
but i’m praying
that you need me.
i could love you, if you
want me too.

"Welcome!" I shout,
To the footsteps pressing into my temples that ache with constant pain.
"Will you stay awhile?" I ask
The nomadic traveler of the night who can only be bothered with a kiss or a ****,
"Can I get you anything?" I courtesy,
Feeding him grapes of Gods and wine, thick like blood. Only the best for the one who comes calling.
"Make yourself comfortable" I gasp
As he arches himself inside of my body
With no intention of staying,
But yet,
No intention of leaving.