*******,
dry heave,
dry eyes -
all on me.
I'm a picture
I'm your paint.
Smeary me, deary
to show that you love me.

I know it is really late. But I can finally articulate it now. It bothered me because I thought of her like an ex. Only worse. Because you never decided you didn't want to be with her. No break up. No mourning. No closure. Because she said so...(But what if she changed her mind?)

And there was a time not long ago where I could grow to like anyone that liked me. It's a powerful thing to be admired. Makes a person feel mighty. How could it not? To have someone see the wonderful things in us that we can't see in ourselves.

And I didn't want this power to lead you to indulge in thoughts of what if. Because I found you first. And I'm not good enough for your goodness. And I'm afraid you'll only be mine as long as you don't realize this.

But I love you too much to keep you blindfolded. And I'll never be worthy but I'll always keep fighting to be deserving of all the love you've given me.

You knew how i got all my scars
Except the one i got when you left

my bed is the void,
or at least I wish it was.
I feel like swirling and twirling,
in the abyss.
I want to touch the face of The Son
and be buried in the earth
so I can know what it is to feel the weight of it
pressing me downwwwwwwwwwwwnnn
                                                    wwwnnn
                                                              nn
                                                                  nn
                                                                      n before watching my bones take root

I am a weepy willow
in the midst of a hurricane.
I am sleepy branches,
I hang my head in shame.

shook up,
got stood up.
for a couple of gals in shorter skirts.

made plans,
***** demands,
i'd oblige without complaint.

if you sat still,
you'd get ill.
at least that's what you've convinced yourself.

**** it.
**** me,
To say you're sorry.
To make me glad
After an argument that's made me mad.
Hold my hips
And pull my hair,
Stick your hand in my underwear.
Mouth on mouth
Muffled moans
Hand on mouth
And squirmy toes.

Forget the flowers,
I want a kiss.

he made her chest fill with air.
tight, constricting air that made her feel like she was suffocating.
tight, heavy, constricting air that suffocated her with sadness.
heavy, suffocating, uncomfortable sadness
that makes her feel spinny and her mind loose.
a slackened heart,
a tensed intestine
a clenched grin
while people drone on about nothing
she is a cavern.
she spirals into a thread of insecurity.
she lunges for shiny objects.
she is made of broken bones and glass.
she is everyone that has been pushed aside.
and she kept her promise not to cry.

Excuses.
My vice.
But I'm quitting cold turkey.

Communal poems
don’t work.
Too many ideas
and too much
judgement.
I feel self conscious.
Naked.
No clothing.
No words.
I’ve forgotten them all.

I'm lying on this inflatable mattress. And I'm cold. And I'm miserable. & I want to go home. But I don't know where that is anymore.

My stomach became painful when you said those things.
Did you even stop to consider?
"Are you not entertained!?"
You didn't even realized the translation of your words.
"You're not enough."
Ok. Ok.
But I missed you so.
******* twatish is what it is.
Spoiled.
Thoughtless.
"Be more flashy
Be more loud
Keep my attention if you want to keep me."
You've ruined it,
My welcome back party has been crashed.
Thanks a bundle dear friend.

They called her crazy
Because she didn't know
Her own name.
The pale blue dot
She lived upon
She was afraid
To call home.
On that Wednesday
In December
When it began to rain
Her lifeless finger
Pulled the trigger.
She doesn't whistle anymore.

I want your fingers to dig so deeply into me,
they leave dimples behind.
I want a pornographic pout and
an iridescent smile.
gimmegimmegimme
a reason to lick my fingers in the night.
slippery as an eel.
my ***** is a portal to another dimension
it's the fountain of youth
a sanctuary
a maze
a happy ending.
my **** is the switch to my consciousness.
I exist in a state of
semi
lucid
euphoria.
dip me in gold
and put me on your mantel
for your viewing pleasure

the emotion i'm most intuned with is (sadness disguised as) anger.
i'm angry (sad) that I am the way I am.
i'm angry (sad) that people can't fix me.
i'm angry (sad) that I keep being misunderstood by the people I thought knew me the best.

my stitches keep bursting open.
from beneath a red valley rushes towards the surface.

making eye contact with my reflection -
I am not looking at me.

i'm angry (sad) I can't feel the love others ****** towards me.
It doesn't feel real.
Disingenuous at best.
i'm angry (sad) everyone has their distraction  except for me.
i'm angry (sad) that my motivation is being weaned by anxiety.

And to think,
I just started writing you a story of boy meets girl.
But I forgot to add the part where boy leaves.

im not this little girl that's afraid of the world.
im not afraid of the dark
or my father
or the end of days.

im not afraid i'll regret the things i didnt say
or do.
or the places i didnt go.

im not afraid of anything.
.
.
.
except you.

a pulse in your chest
and one to match between your legs.
racing,
pacing,
speed racer baby.
on all fours.
peering up at me,
tearing up,
cheer up pretty lady.
i won't make you do the things
that make you cringe.
the things that stain up the walls of your mind
and the back of your throat,
so you can pretend you're loved.

I imagine it like a scene from a movie.
Where the girl throws herself against a wall of the shower
Tilting her face beneath the stream of water.
You can't tell if she's crying.
She scrubs her skin too hard
Turning herself an unpleasant shade of red.
She's trying to get clean.

Silly girl.

Your innards could use a good scrubbing.

They played gravel pit while people packed into the courtyard.
It made me think of you.
I'm sorry I didn't take more pictures.

It's hard to tell who's lonely in the dark.
It's hard to hear the shouts of those standing next to me
over the sound of the bass guitar rattling my ear drums.

And that ******* *****
that kept shoving into me.
I wanted to shove my elbow into her gut
to settle her down.
"People don't understand, these songs demand movement," she slurred
with her tacky bozo-red hair.

My feet are in puddles of booz.
I breathe in secondhand air
that tastes of beer.

The fog is thick
and mixes with the smoke of a thousand spliffs.
I wanted a contact high.
I wanted the opening band to give it a rest
so the band I came here to see could play.

But mostly I wanted you there
holding my hips while I swayed to the music.
And on the way home
when I stuck my head out of the window of a moving car
in order to feel something.
Not alive.
But whole.

Goose bumps sprang up on my arms
as dew clung to the warmth of my flesh.
The chill felt so right after all the heat.

Gasping,
as air whipped up into my nostrils
and down into my eager lungs.

I wanted you there.
Over a plate of salty fries,
talking about everything and nothing.

My greatest fear is that I'll never cease missing you
because you'll always be far away.

Ephemerality is not my specialty
But I can be short-lived if you want me to be.
I can be fleeting.

Waiting.
There's no negating the fact that I hate it.
Because it seems to end in
A change of plans.
Promises made to me have to wait
For those made to others.
Last minute rejections
Lead to further reflections
About time
And the things I spend it on.

Fool me twice
Shame on me.

I don't feel good
I don't feel good
I don't feel right
and there's no good reason why.
I want to sleep
but I won't
cause I never do.
What if I miss something
while I'm sleeping?
But I won't
cause I never do.

I'm thinking about you.
I'm thinking about lying beside you.
I'm thinking about the way you feel.
I'm thinking about the scratch of your stubble
against my palms.

I'm thinking about you.
I'm thinking about touching your mouth
with my mouth
and stealing your breath away.
I'm thinking about the way your voice sounds
in the morning
when it's clouded with sleep.

I'm thinking about you.
I'm thinking about the way we could play make believe beneath the covers.

I'm always thinking.

I feel refreshed. I feel new. I feel alive and free. I feel hopeful and romantic and optimistic and grateful. I want to give my time, my energy, and everything in me. I want to care and love wholeheartedly. I feel these things with an overwhelming urgency and it's a flame that won't soon be doused. I have this new found hunger to do more than I ever aspired to before - and an emerging confidence to follow through. All I kept for myself from fear of vulnerability, failure, or loss - I now freely give to anyone who desires. Love is an action - a demonstration of sacrifice. I want to fully grasp this concept. I want it to define who I am. I shall live each moment as if it were to teach me how to further understand what most people often reduce to "a feeling". Love is not something that comes and goes as it pleases. Love stays. Love holds on. Love never dies. This I believe more now than ever.

I guess I’m a liar.

I told them I would meet them at the fair at seven.
I told them I was on my way at eight.
But I was lying in his arms.

I laid there in between the sweaty sheets twirling the purity ring around on my finger. He was asleep in a few minutes. I rolled over on my side, clutching the sheets to my chest and let the tears fall soundlessly to my pillow. I was lying in bed with a thief. He’d taken my virtue. I could report it stolen, but who would return it?
I drew my legs to my chest, pulling myself into a ball. The tremors rolled through my body like thunder. Holding in the gasps that shrieked inside my chest caused a burning like sensation at the base of my throat.
In anger, I tossed back the sheets and sat up; letting my legs dangle over the side of the bed and onto the **** carpeted floor. I wiggled my toes as my legs swung back and forth. Instinctively my hands caressed my stomach. The tears returned once more, streaking down my face and dripping onto my bare thighs.
I looked down at the silver band on my ring finger. The silver band with the words: true love waits inscribed in loopy cursive. I pushed the finger into my mouth, wetting it with my tongue. I pulled it out and twisted it loose, sliding it off of my finger. I turned back towards him and threw into onto the bed as I stood.
Standing there before the full length mirror pulling my hair back into a pony tail I realized that the girl the mirror reflected had a face different from my own. She looked sad and bitter – two things I was in short supply of.

Then I smiled at her and she smiled back at me.

There I am.

I am writing you this letter in the event that in the near future you find yourself regretting your decision to break up with C. I got the idea from How I Met Your Mother so bear with me.

He was a great guy but you needed to let him go so he could figure himself out and what he wants out of life. Likewise you needed to let him go so you could figure yourself out and what you wanted out of life. As much as you wanted to you couldn’t do this while you two were together and that’s no one’s fault.

You’re both so young and need time to experience things that you wouldn’t have been able to otherwise. Everything happens for a reason and you must remember that when God says no to one thing it’s because he has something even better in store.

It’s okay to remember the good times and even the bad if it helps you cope, but don’t regret. He was your first love and you were his. Revel in that and know that is something great. He was your first in so many ways and the thought of him having a second or third may hurt but a time will come when you’ll love again too. Don’t doubt God’s plan. Don’t doubt your decision. When you feel lonely just remember the words tattooed on your skin: “still growing into my wings, but one day I’ll fly.” Rest assured in that truth.

You and C were the sun and the moon. It worked for a while but you were doing more damage than good by staying together. You had two different definitions of worthwhile experiences. You should never be with someone that makes you feel less than. You shouldn’t have to compete against the one you love. Love isn’t a competition. It’s sacrifice. It’s doing instead of just saying.

Don’t be bitter or angry towards him. He loved you as much as he could at this point in time. Don’t put your life on pause for him, but you also shouldn’t rush into things out of spite. Don’t do anything stupid that could have a lasting impact because you think it will take your mind off the pain. It may work for a moment, but you can only outrun reality for so long.

Maybe one day when you’ve both matured and lived a lifetime apart something magical will happen and it will be that much better because the time you spent apart. Maybe you’ll never see him again. Either way be happy that whatever happened was for the best. Now stop feeling sorry for yourself and go do something productive.

It's not the way I wanted this to happen.
It's colder beneath the covers.

It's no one's fault.
That I need
The things I can't give myself.

*Hugs are a good place to start.

Meet me in the summer when my hair has grown out a bit.
Meet me on a Wednesday at 4:00.
Meet me with open mouth and balled fists.

I'll come to you on day with a breeze that reddens your cheeks.
I'll come to you with flowers tucked behind my ears and your favorite song stuck in my head.
I'll come to you whole.

Let's go to the beach way past our bedtime.
Let's ride our longboards downtown and dart in and out of traffic.
Let's meet in the middle and then stay put.

The road glitters
Like tar flecked with diamonds.
I'm warm from the buzz of graduating from wine to liquor.
My mouth tastes of cinnamon
And the cool air feels blissful against my skin.

Though their faces seem happy to see me,
I don't know these people.
They know my name,
But not why I came.

There is an odd sense of community on the dance floor.
I'm drinking a clear fluid that tastes like fruit loops.
Strangers are spliffing in the garage.

I don't check the time
Because I'd like to pretend it doesn't exist.

This isn't going to be
one of those pretentious poems
Induced by a wave of sadness.

I've written far too many
Of those.

And I won't let myself
Be miserable again.
There are too many
Numbing medications
For me to tolerate anything less than neutral.
Even that is uncomfortable:
indifference.
impartiality.

Makes me anxious.
Like I'm waiting.
Treading water.

And I was high
And feeling low.
And I thought I was making sense.
She didnt have a journal
So I settled for a mini yellow legal pad.
And my thoughts were coming faster than I could write.
So I forgot.

Before I touched you
I knew you felt right.

I knew I'd write you cheesy poems.
I knew you were just what I needed.
I knew I wanted you every night
For the rest of my life.

*"I know you're the one I'm meant to love."

I could have been floating on rainbow river,
but the fool I am - I stayed in
thinking we could make up for lost time.

But I should have seen this coming.
Because I did it too.
Kept making the choice that I knew hurt you.
prodding a wound with ***** fingers.

visions of my own death play in my head,
a silent movie that speaks volumes.
Oh, karma - how could I have forgotten you would return for me?
Taking the things I cherish,
sweeping away every good thing in your wake.

how can I fault him for my mistake,
look how long it took me.
but what good has it done me to do good,
when it's brought him no closer to me.

he's on the other side of a massive rift that grows deeper with every word he speaks.
I love you - a shovel in the dirt.
you're out with friends, and I'm lying in the sodden earth.

Independent.
One thing I've never been accused of being.
Because I'm a leech that clings and feeds.
A moth that hovers too closely to things that singe its wings.
I'm this omnipresent mass of sadness and tear filled eyes.
But independent?
No.
I'm not that.

Angry people are just people;
People that were sad too long.

Bitter people are just people;
People that were angry too long.

Spiteful people are just people;
People that were bitter too long.

That ****** me up.
That thing you said.
And then you left me
all sticky
Your slimy words in my head.

It worked.
Mission accomplished.
I am indeed
A self fulfilling prophecy.

Why is that
Heavy things flatten me out.
And when im smooshed
You can flutter about.

He needed her to cope
and grew to love her;
for she was the prettiest thing in his view
But now she's obsolete.
He opened his eyes
wide.
Too wide.
So wide,
that he saw that there were prettier things.

So distracted by the beauty all around him,
he forgot to love her.
Forgot he ever had.

Internal struggle.
A perilous fight.

It's been said that guilt is a human invention.
A form of self punishment that enables us to attone for our mistakes and shortcomings.

I guess that makes me a *******.

Forgetting  easy
It's remembering that's hard.
It's retracing  steps
With all 5 senses.
The way he moaned when you kissed his neck.
The way she tasted first  thing  in the morning.
The nimble way your limbs fold together like lawn chairs.

I'm never leaving this bed.

it's scary to open up and let people in
to see the bits of you that you try to keep hidden.
To give them the power
Heal you or hurt you.

To become hopeful
And dependent on promises made late at night.
To let their hands touch your heart;
Hoping that they're clean.

It's scary
To bask in the glow of another's affection
And to know that you need it more than you'll let show.

the manifestation of love
as she liked to call it.

if you lost you voice
would they be able to see it?
or have you given the words
all the responsibility?

can you touch the object of your affection
with something other than your hands?
or are sensations mere physical interactions to you?

have you forgotten what it was like
*before you had your first kiss?

I don't know which couch to make a bed.
I'm very prone to feeling sorry for myself.
Why is this happening to me!?
I think I'm just mad
My dad never taught me how to be brave.

1/2 cup of narcissism.
3 teaspoons of pretentiousness.
2 sticks of vulnerability.

It is not an excuse, but it is a reason.
It is not your fault that I am not strong enough to stop this thing I do.
This thing that hurts the both of us, but it really hurts you.
Part of me thought you already knew.
I convinced myself that you’d picked up on the subtle hints I’d dropped on your feet like soggy feathers.

I don’t need you to forgive me.
I need you to do what will make you okay.
I need you to be better in spite of me.
I need you to graduate and become successful.
I need you to marry someone with blue eyes and blond hair so I hate myself every day.

People make excuses for me and it makes me feel like hemorrhaging.
I don’t want to party.
I don’t want to dance.
I like to marinate in this pain I’ve earned.
To know that I may never know you because I got to know someone else. Might never open my eyes to the sight of your face two inches in front of mine.

Do not fall in love with these words because they are made of ink and ink bleeds, but I don’t.
I sent you all my love in an airplane that crossed over the sea.
And by the time it got there, you were half way to me.
Don’t let my tears coax you into settling.
My hurt is irrelevant when it is what caused yours.

So many things I want to say but have no right to.
Sign a permission slip to grant me access to the places closed off with yellow tape.
How could I ask for a second go at cutting you into confetti?
Come here, I said come here.

You need to be here, so I can stop being this way.
But is not fair to say.
It is not your responsibility to restore my innocence.
When did I become so selfish?
Why did I take directions from strangers that played their music too loud?

I should have done molly.
Should, shoul, shou, sho, shh. Sshhh.
I should have done more drugs and given less hugs.
Sshhh.
I should not have dressed that way or done my make up just so.
I should have been looking through pictures of you on my phone.
Oh, that face. The one that thought I was perfect.
You know the one, with the eyes I wanted to one day see on the face of our child.

I'm naïve. I am an airborne virus. You caught me on the bus.

You were never not perfect.