I keep trying to find a song that can describe
how I feel with the hope that
maybe it will make this emptiness seem less empty
but you can't rhyme
"scars" with "I'm sorry"
or
"sixteen" with "alcoholic"

The ***** hasn't kicked in yet and I know I shouldn't text you again so I won't because the ***** hasn't kicked in yet but maybe when I'm drunker I could send you a text about how much I hate the fact that I lost my virginity to you or how much I hate the fact that I still text you when I'm drunk that would be pretty **** meta my throat burns but I'm trying not to drink too much water because the ***** hasn't kicked in yet and I'm trying not to cry because my parents got divorced two years ago and everyone else seems to be coping fine but I still break down when my dad talks about how much he loves my mom and he's getting married soon and I wonder if she knows she's his second choice and I wonder if it breaks her heart as much as it breaks mine and my parents haven't seen each other in months because it makes my dad sad to see what he is missing but I think if he saw my mom more often he would realize he isn't missing much because since he left she's been drinking and he never liked her when she drank because she gets too honest and cries too much and she told me my friends were weird and I used to think drunk words were lies but that boy told me he loved me and two years later it turns out it was true and I wish he had told me sooner because it would have saved me a lot of heartbreak and maybe we could have been something and I would text him right now but he never likes it when I drink because I remind him of himself and that terrifies him and he got back from rehab a few months ago and he's been different ever since and I don't like the new him and he used to hate people like him but I guess he's happy now I hope he's happy now I thought he'd stopped drinking until he mentioned grabbing a beer I don't know if he's still taking pills but I hope not because I really do love that boy like a brother or a lover it changes a lot and he's going into the military and I want more than anything to kiss him good bye but I don't know if he still wants me and I don't want to make him sad and he's been pretty mean lately but I think it's just the boys he's been hanging out with and my brother says he's changed so much they hardly ever talk now and I remember when they used to be best friends and I hate what time does to people and the ***** is starting to kick in now do you see what time does to people I still have some left I poured myself a juice glass of grapefruit flavored liquor and I don't know how many shots it equates to but I hope it's a lot I need to stop thinking tonight I want to puke my guts out I want a hangover I want to teach myself a lesson but I never ******* learn I don't know if I'll ever stop drinking sometimes I want to die by the time I'm 25 and I think maybe if it's an accident no one would be so upset so if I got in a car accident no one would think I was depressed if I drove off an overpass people would use my story as a drunk driving prevention program but they wouldn't think I left them on purpose and that's all I need I will live my life quickly and leave just as fast because I hate what time does to people and I do not want to be a victim of the clock

I texted you
at 12:30 a.m.
with a beer can on my bedside table,
asked you
if you remember
how my lips taste,
told you
it's been a while
since anyone's touched me
like you used to,
added
haha, I love you
to texts that
didn't quite make sense;

I asked for it.

That's what I keep
telling myself.
It's not ****
if I gave consent,
it's not ****
if you didn't touch me,
it's not ****
if I said yes when
you offered to make me less lonely.

I remember when
that boy you were always jealous of
told me he loved me,
I remember wanting to say it back,
I remember the smell of
my mom's *****
on his breath.

I said no.
Took his arm off my shoulder,
turned my head away,
told him not to kiss me,
told him not tonight,
told him he was drunk,
he was lying to himself,
he was just lonely,
he would not love me
in the morning.

I was right.
He told me
the last thing he remembered
was sitting down next to me,
he said
sorry if I tried anything,
I said he didn't.

My point is,

the boy I loved,
longed for,
still long for,
was giving himself to me,
his flushed cheek on my shoulder,
his hands in my hair,
my name on his lips,
and I said no.

My point is,

I, whom you knew to be vulnerable,
to be empty,
to be broken,
was begging you to save me,
my desire on your phone screen,
my scars in your memories,
my cries echoing in your eardrums,
and you asked for more.

My point is,

there comes a point
in every person's life
when they are given the choice
to do the right thing,
or do the wrong thing
and convince them self
it was the only option.

My point is,

I could have been
at your doorstep,
in your bedroom,
begging,
pleading,
naked,
ready,
and the right answer
still would have been
no.

My point is,

you did not **** me,
but you made me feel violated.
You are not a *** offender,
but you are an awful person.
I did say yes,
but you should have said no.

My point is,

I may have asked for it,
but that doesn't mean
you should've given it to me.

I swear to God I am not giving up
but every breath I take feels like smoke
and I am not sure how much more
my tar-stained lungs can endure.

I am sorry for all the harm I have done
I am sorry that I cannot heal the scars I have left
I am sorry that you have wounds and I am the blade
I am a double edged razor and you cannot hold me
without slicing open your palms
drop me please
let me go
I do not want to hurt anyone anymore
if this is what I have caused
I no longer want to be

I am sorry.
I want everyone to know that this is no one's fault.
If anyone were to blame, it would be the universe herself,
and even that seems unfair.
She is trying to survive, just like the rest of us.
I am not sure where I will go now.
Whether it will be pearly gates
or eternal sleep
or a fire place
I am unsure,
but it is worth the risk to escape this reality.
I remember my mom holding me as I sobbed
because my best friend had been ***** and I did not save her.
My mother whispered like a lullaby into my ear,
there was nothing you could have done.
As if the fact that horrible things happen to innocent people
and there is no way to stop it
should come as a comfort to me.
I realize that this is just how life is
and if everyone else can live with it then I should be able to, too,
but I cannot seem to keep myself from trying to rescue everyone.
I am throwing myself into the ocean to resuscitate those seen drowning,
I am being swept out by the tide,
gagged by the salt water,
pulled beneath the surface by the ones I am trying to hold up.
Maybe I am weak.
Maybe I am too dense to fight the pull of gravity.
Maybe gravity will finally get what it wants
when I, in my brown box, am lowered as deep as this life can take me.
My spine is no longer strong enough to withstand this pressure.
I am breaking.
I am leaving.
I am gone.
I am sorry.

Anorexia
is the most deadly mental disorder
and maybe that is why
I tell myself I am fat,
maybe the reason I cry
when I look in the mirror
is because there is
110 pounds
too much of me
95 pounds
too much of me
80 pounds
too much of me,
I will not be content
until there is no weight left to lose,
until this skin is turned cold
and falls off my body,
I will be
counting the ribs you can see
on my corpse.
I will make myself smaller
and smaller
and smaller
until there is nothing left
to take away.

This is not the place
to tell someone you love them
for the first time,
and although I do not believe you,
I smile.

You are not the one
who should be apologizing.
I am the one leaving,
I will take that piece of you with me
(the one you said was mine).

There are flowers beside my bed
sprayed and dyed into
the type of artificial beauty
that can only be appreciated against a white room.

You look at my hands so you do not have to
face the blue circles under my eyes.
You try to laugh like we used to
but there is a carefulness to your disposition
that was never there before;
you are afraid to break me.

I think it's strange that
your heart seems more shattered than mine;
that I try to stay strong for you.
I think it's unfair that
when visiting hours end and you stand to leave,
you drop my hand one finger at a time
and you tell me you love me like
it is the last time,
every time.
I think it is unfair
that you are the one
with last words.

They keep telling me there is nothing I could have done.
They say that I couldn't have stopped it from happening,
as if that is supposed to make me feel better.

As if the fact that horrible things happen
and there is no way to prevent them
should come as a comfort to me.

There is evil in this world,
and you can either
ignore it,
attempt to banish it,
or try to save those you love
from it.

There is no correct choice.

You will fail,
regardless.

I was right there.

As he gripped her waist in one hand,
she glanced in my direction
long enough to force a nod
when I asked if she was okay.

His fingertips traced their way up her thigh
as her breath became more shallow.
I asked if she was okay.
She said yes.

With his cold breath on the back of her neck
and his arm pulling her closer,
he whispered something that I couldn't hear.
She said she was fine.

I was right there.

I followed her when she left.
I found her sitting on the restroom floor.
With every sob her body shook in my bony arms.
I could not protect her.

I was right there.

I am so sorry that I did not save her.
If her eyes had screamed a little louder,
if I had looked a little closer,
Maybe then I could have stopped him before it was too late.

**I was right there.

All of my firsts,
all of my beautiful memories,
my sacred bonds
have been cracked open,
tainted,
the ties have been cut,
I am drifting,
floating off,
I have no anchor to drop.
I have given away
everything I can, and
there is nothing left of me
to offer but
salt water pouring from
my heart, trying to nourish
this thicket weaving through
my rib cage.
My collar bones are
shelves holding books and
love songs that I
can no longer listen to.
My knees are rubbed raw,
carpet burn from kneeling
before a God that only
called me a sinner,
I have nothing left to offer.
Palms facing upwards on
the ends of outstretched arms,
I have given away all
that I can,
I have siphoned the very
blood from my veins,
I am empty.

My mother told me that
if I am ever kidnapped I
should bite off the skin on
the tip of my fingers so
the police can follow my blood trail
like breadcrumbs.

When he grabbed my hand
I looked back at
the street behind me,
it seemed so easy to follow,
the road to my home
is a straight line
from anywhere,
how could I get lost?

I left no mark
on the ground I walked on,
he carried me to
a place I had never seen,
the road he had found me on
did not even seem
like an option anymore,
it was too far gone.

I am walking,
I am calling out to them,
to anyone,
*I escaped,
please come get me,
wrap me in warm blankets
in the back of an ambulance,
blur my face in the news report,
find me,
I am coming home,
find me.

I've stuck around for so long
even though I've wanted to leave
because I don't want to hurt anyone,

but I broke his heart
I let her down
I lied to him
I made her cry
I hurt them
I hurt them
I hurt them...

And I don't know what to do
because I'd hurt them by leaving,
but I hurt them by staying, too.