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

She drew out their goodbyes as long as he'd let her
because she never really wanted to leave him.

                      I adore you.
                               I'll miss you.
                                    Goodnight boo.

                                                 But waking up to his messages somehow made her bed seem less empty.
                                                                ­        And she hated empty things.
                                                                ­                           So she endured goodbyes
                                                        ­                                               in exchange for tomorrow's good morning.

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.

It's unravelling:
The ball of yarn in my hands.
It's fraying
As I drag it through the mulch.

But I need it
To find my way home.

We’ll grow up and forget the ways we used to be.
What it was like to be a child altogether.
We’ll forget that we kissed with our eyes open because no one had ever told us not to.

**** I'm annoyed.
At everything.
At every one.
At you.
Those things you said
Get stuck in my head
And poison my precious
Peace of mind.
It's fine.
Everything.
And every one.
And me.
At least I will be
Sometime soon.

I loaded a gun with good intentions
And pressed it to my head.

I didn't feel guilty anymore
Because when the gun went off I was dead.

My feelings are hurt.
I say it out loud despite how stupid it feels in my mind.

The old me would be a self fulfilling prophecy.
The old me would prove your suspicions right.

Always on the defensive.
I feel like I always need to be.

But I am kind.
I can see beauty where others are blind.
I love hard.
And I love right.

Why so many opponents
When I'm not playing a game?

I know it seems crazy.
The circumstances are insane
But we need more people on our team.
Your opposition brings me pain.

I love him.
You love him.
And I'll love you
Because he does.

I won't get it the way.
I won't let my love run dry.
I won't  abuse his affections.

I just want to make him happy.
I want him to get what's best.
I want to fulfill him in every way.
I want to fall asleep on his chest.

It's amazing
That light (or lack thereof) can alter the way you
See something.
In sunlight strands of hair become diamonds.
In the dark
Any face can seem beautiful.
Dawn is the happy medium
Between the beauty of night
And the marvel of the day.

My fears seem legitimate in the expanse of my mind
But I'm so preoccupied by their irrationality that I forget to fear rational things
Like aimless wandering
And death.

I wanted to make love
Because love is something you make?

No,
But I wanted to
With you.

I want him
But I can't have him.
I feel him
But can't touch him.
I need him
But can't see him.

I think
This is what you call
A crush.

I've got it bad.
But it feels so good.
I kind of like
This game we play.

I was there for a while,
The tops of my feet
Just skimming cloud nine.

Baby, I danced on air.

But then I looked down at the treetops,
And I traded paradise for earth.

Because I couldn't feel love or life or anything up there.
But on earth I can feel dead loveless human beings.
And aren't they worth that fall.

You said
               "Go away, I don't like you anymore."
"Your nose is too big."
                            "You laugh too loud."
            "You kiss with your eyes open."
He said.
So I left.
I closed my mouth.
I shut my eyes.
But my ****** nose
                    It's still too big.

I don't just wanna be your come down.
I wanna be what gets you high.
I wanna be you THC.
Your MDMA.
Your TLC.
And all the other letters in between.

What if we had been strangers on a train
And I asked you what book you were reading.
You'd say:
“The Old Man and The Sea.”
Then I’d tell you I’d never read it before.
You’d say it was your favorite.
And ask for mine,
“Tuesdays with Morrie,”
I’d answer.
We’d bond over similar music taste
The **
PRiNCe
Flight of the Conchords.
You’d compliment my sweater.
I’d admire your socks.
Maybe I’d be bold and ask to take your picture,
But probably not.
Instead I’d ask you name
And you’d ask mine.
I’d smile at your reaction.
”Nice to meet you Oshin.”
Then you’d go back to reading your book
And I’d try to find another excuse to talk to you.

"You're an open book, but in a language I can't read."

*I'm the book you'll never take the time to read to the end.

And I reread your poem,
The one about me.
And Emma blew my mind
(Figuratively)
She said:
"It's the same emotion
Whether you're a teenager or an adult.
It just intensifies
But it's still love."

So I wrote it down
So I wouldn't forget.

My obsession is singular
By my love is plural.

1
Inward: humor, wit, intelligence, kindness, patience, affection.

2
Outward: teeth, lips, finger tips, eyes, hair, tummy.

You are every kind of perfection.
Even in the flaws you claim to have.
All my adoration
Especially when you're feeling sad.

I can never seem to hold you
For very long.

But I kiss my fingertips after you're gone.

Worried.
Worried sick.
But you're feeling better cause your boozey.
exit conversation
Ctrl
alt
DELETE
smokey shoes
smokey feet,
From walking on hot coals.
It's why you run,
Why you leave.
Dip your toes in water
Since I can't cool you down.
It was something I said wasn't it?
Maybe you need me not around.
backspace
backspace
*backspace

It KILLED me.
The way you snuggled together.
You looked so content.
And here I thought your arms were reserved for me.
Pfftt.

I bet it felt good didn't it?
I bet you slept soundly beside each other...
you and your pillow.

I am worth your last stick of gum
Your undivided attention
The window seat
A fleeting moment of embarrassment.
I am worth at least 75% of all the tea in China
The risk
Your Saturday nights turned Sunday mornings.
I am worth a long drive with no a/c just for the company.
Pretending it's your fault
Having my honor defended
Being noticed by senpai
Extra cheese on a pizza.

Silly little girls
Waiting permissively for permission.
The world isn't that big.
And you aren't that small.

restless
brooding
desperate
moody:

all wrapped together in a 5,2" package.

I'm getting okay with who I am
What I am
How I am.
I'm okay with it all
At least for today.

I'm around too many people that are too obsessed with their bodies.
I'm afraid of being too skinny. I'm afraid of being too fat.
Molded into the right shape by the wrong society.
Pinching your tummy fat between sickly fingers with manicured nails painted blood red.
Your power lies in your body.
Men desire us
So we ought to be optimally desirable.
Inject fat from your *** into your lips
And give us a big sloppy kiss.

I refuse to believe fate and coincidence are the same thing.

Sometimes if I cry without making a sound
I can keep myself from a full on sob.
But if I make so much as a peep,
The mere sound of it forces me to fully acknowledge that it's happening.
Forces me to remember why.
And I can't stop what begins thereafter.

The start of something reckless.
But recklessness comes in pairs.
So at least someone else would be here.

He didn't see me.
I only existed when I was naked.
Life resumes full speed when I get dressed.
But I wanted it to stop just long enough for him to see me.
Really see me.

Now I'm cursed with longing.
Longing for validation.
Longing for someone to confirm that I exist.

If I don't get the acknowledgement,
maybe I'll disappear.
Maybe I was never here...

and that terrifies me.

Don't laugh okay?
Swear.
Swear not to laugh.

Okay so remember that guy I was telling you about?
Yes the one with the puffin sweater.
Well we didn't actually meet at an Arctic Monkeys concert.

We met online.
Like in a chatroom.
We cured each other's loneliness.
And then we went from there.

Actions speak louder than words.
Actions hurt more too.
They leave bruises
And scabs.

My scabs don't heal
Because I never stop picking them.
Maybe that's why I stopped going to church.

I want forgiveness
But I don't deserve it.
So would I believe it was real
If I were to received it?

Or would I unintentionally sabotage
Your mercy,
Just to punish myself?

Would I spend the rest of my life
Trying to make up for my mistakes
In vain?

But I'm not Jesus.
So what do I expect my punishment to fix?
I don't save people.
I don't have a plan.
I don't provide a peace that surpasses understanding.

If I were Jesus, I'd give you your own constellation.
I'd give you the comfort you need.
I'd save you from me.

Words can't fix my misdeeds.
So I'll stop talking
And show you what I mean.
I'll be a better me.
I'd like if you stick around and see.

We lie still.
Unmoving.
Unchanging.
You're pulled under
by the current
and my lungs
fill with air.
You pull me
from the water
and watch as I float on.
You won't let me get to far
because you know
I can't swim.

I like the idea of being a people person
until I think about what that truly means.
Then I just go back to being anti social
because it's easy
and people subconsciously like people that don't like them back.

I'm bleeding boredom
While you're revising the things you said.
For me?
Probably.
Apology.
A redeeming soliloquy
painted ivory.
But I'm still bored
And I haven't stopped bleeding
Or believing you'll leave me.
Pity party
And too much cacophony.
Bring me down
Bring me low.
Sweet chariot
Let me go
Let me lie
Beneath the covers
Until my eyes are dry.

the world is a dangerous place for
daughters,
for sisters,
aunts,
nieces,
girlfriends.
she asks herself if she deserved to be
taken advantage of,
chased,
belittled,
grabbed,
hurt.
fear is instilled in each girl,
their rights withheld,
respect weaned,
voiced silenced
because of their anatomy.
filled with guilt at their mere existence
while rapists sleep soundly.
people say it wouldn't have happened
if you dressed more conservatively,
if you didn't lead him on,
he couldn't help himself,
it's natural,
you should be flattered you stuck up ***** I'm talking to you.
a man that goes too far is excused for being a boy,
while a girl walks to her car in the middle of the night, fearful for her own life.
a naked woman lying in the street is not asking for anything
that she doesn't speak.
why does the first "yes" mean "yes"
and the first "no" mean "persist" ?
why do you get an excuse to act how you want
but I'm not granted the same privledge every 28 days?
at what age do you tell her that she will be
violently pursued,
cursed,
assaulted,
undermined,
paid less
because the structure of her body.
Why does every girl have a heartbreaking story
that she was made to feel guilty for?
like she could have done something to change it,
when the thing that needs changing is the one that thinks "well you see the way she dressed, she brought it on herself."
I hope I don't have a daughter,
but a son instead
so I won't have to be the one to put fear in her head.

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

I like the perfection of your mind
And each of your body parts.

I like that you're more than willing
To look up the answer to my questions on Google.

I like the amount of irony
Involved in our flirtation.

I like the fact that we have
A joint blog on tumblr.

I like that every love song
Reminds me of you.

I like that you never add "too"
To the end of an "I love you."

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'm leaning up against you because I have no backbone.
I have no morals.

I'm okay with not knowing who I am.

I've been told I'm cynical
by  a hippie with dreadlocks.
No, I don't want to try molly with you.

I've been told that cuddling is better in the cold
by a boy with an enviable smile, wearing a striped sweater.
Let's make a book of comfortable sleeping positions for couples.
With the bed as the office, and the sheets for a desk.

I've been told that I'm too old for hugs
by the contributor of half my genes.
I love you too.

People tell me things
and usually I don't listen.
But sometimes I do.

I met a boy.
I mean I didn't meet him like in person or anything.

Let me start over.

I know a boy.

2 years.
August 4th.
9 hour plane rides.
5 hour time difference.
4,000 miles away.
1 year and 3 days apart.
6 month countdown.
2 months of bliss.
Once a year.
5:00 am.

You're my 1.

What you are to me is far too cliche to say in this medium. So I won't say what you are. I'll say what you aren't.

You aren't my father,
You don't call me the things I deserve to be called when I'm acting like the things I deserve to be called.
You aren't arrogant.
You don't hold my past misdeeds against me.
You haven't left.
You aren't aware of your worth.
You are not a coward.
You can't stay mad at me.
You aren't ordinary.

Sometimes it's the bits we don't say. The unspoken words in between the ones we say with our voice. Sometimes it's oir actions that give us a voice.