Days screaming  
Nights waiting
Smleling of strangers
Shaded glances
Queston's unanswered
Moons departure suns gleam awaken
wounds forgiven thoughts receding

Before you go,
Can I get one more kiss?
Will you tell me about your day?
And about your tomorrow too?
And could you maybe stick around
Just long enough to share
Every day of my life with you?

I miss a lot of things that I can't have back
Like the flea market and my checked backpack,
Not worrying who I will be
Asking Peter please take me

The brown, green meadows, the lukewarm rain
I can't remember where I've been
When problems seemed so far away
When I talked to the sky and I believed.

I was doing okay
Then I did the stupid thing
I went to talk to you again

What a waste of care
And love
And time
And effort

Now I’m not okay
And I don’t know if I will be
I’ve never been this anxious before in my entire life

i’m not alone in being sad.
that’s the worst part about it .
no matter how much i try,
everyone else will think they understand.
i’m not sure if i want them to.
not sure if i want to be alone in this feeling.
or if i’d rather have a companion.

“You look like my daughter”
The man says to me,
As he’s ordering me a drink
Looking my body up and down.

I laugh,
Look away,
Try to pretend he didn’t say that

Oh but don’t worry
He made it a point
to mention
T H R E E
              M O R E
                           T I M E S
how my body
Resembled his daughters,
“Tight, perfect, the right kind”

Oof.
Idk y’all
Idk that I can do this.
I walk away
I dont make that money.
Even though I know **** well,
I fit his ****** up fantasies.

Not to mention I’m triggered,
Thanks to my childhood trauma,
By all of this conversation,
But it doesn’t really matter
Anyways.
Just a product of my environment
Just an object to fill
The desires
Of hungry eyes.

**** it
Let me be
An empty *** doll.
Just take my intelligence with you please.
Flowers for Algernon ,
And I’m wilting.
I’m too aware of my place in society.

Why strive to peruse my education,
When I know no one will hire me
Because of my background?
Why stay sober,
When my ******* flashbacks
Only stop when I’m drunk?

I hate my life.
No I don’t like the job I have;
But this **** ain’t easy.

And none of it is my fault.
It isn’t.
None of my trauma is my fault.

At least At the end of the day
I have the comfort
Of knowing,
That I matter just as little as the next person.
My life,
In all of its glory,
matters just as little as john f Kennedy’s
I am nothing
And we are nothing

Our suffering is eternal

I spend too many nights thinking
Wondering, writing, dreaming
Of someone who doesn't even think of me