we are stripped down
to blood and bone
no skin at all
because that isn't beautiful

our eyes are the colors of
emerald greens and
intense blue crystals
because brown isn't beautiful

we need designer things
Gucci and Prada
not target and walmart
because clothes need to be beautiful

if this is what beauty is
then i cant give it to you
i can act real
but we'll always be *a little fake

everyone
is always
trying

trying
trying trying trying

trying so hard
they never stop trying

and i wonder

what is it
they are trying to do

what is it
they are hoping to achieve

what is it
they are running from

or
more pertinently
where is it
they are running to

i. He is going to break your heart and you'll try to put the pieces back together but you'll never be back to you were before you met him
ii. When he says "I care about you," don't listen to him.  Months from now you will find yourself falling apart while he embraces another girl & gives her the world, when it was supposed to be you
iii. You will often see him with a bunch of other people & he will be laughing & smiling a lot more than he ever did with you. But you have to learn to not care & just worry about yourself first
iv. You will see him walking alone & when he sees you, he won't say hey as he usually does but instead walk past you like you never existed & you will feel the burning flakes in your lungs. But don't let him get to you
v. There will be other boys who resembles his smile & you think that maybe they could fill the void & make the heartache go away, it won't & will just make it worse
vi. Months will pass by & you can finally tell yourself that you can go on without him
vii. It is still going to hurt & maybe for a long time, baby girl. And you wish that you could go back to who you were before your first heartbreak, but you will thank him for this experience. And one day you'll find someone who will give you the galaxy & share every sunrise & sunsets with you

~Things I wish I knew before you broke my heart ~

Oh god
I miss you
so much.

cheap wine tides me over
as i go against the grain, walk along the side
of the train tracks
and wish i was brave enough
                                          to stride down the middle
wish i was brave enough to admit out loud
that i’d love to just stand there
embrace the black coal smoke with open arms
breathe it in
and never exhale again

and i don’t mean that in a suicidal way
                                                         (i swear)
i just mean the thought crosses my mind
too often not to mean something

there’s probably a word for this feeling
but i’ve got nobody to tell it to

I, a dusty piece of gold
standing on the lattice, peering
searching for a token of life
when suddenly the rustling steps
recklessly electrifying the outgrown grass on my doorstep
and I,
half-existent
half-hope
imprisoned in a cage of oblivion
but listen, thief
as you despise the dust on my skeleton
I'll hang your laughs on the walls
where lilies will grow from the echoes of your fingers
catch the breeze that tickled your cheek
and throw it in a jar to color the void
I'll knit a ghost out of your grimaces
that will keep me company when the space thrives
and your odor that's time-challenging
It belongs to the days of yore
The days where poets were to rule the world
and a blow in the dust brought life back to life

*Parting from the strings of liberty;
the gold misses its thief.

i’ve never had feelings for anyone who could be good for me. i’ve never been interested in someone where a good, healthy relationship could’ve resulted, and maybe that’s why i’m so jaded, because everyone i’ve ever liked has just been a distraction or a house on fire— someone i know i shouldn’t be involved with, but i’ll give myself just a few more days to run around frantically with my hands over my eyes, peaking through the cracks between my fingers, searching for things i know i don’t really need, and then i’ll dash out and run down the driveway and the smog will linger for a little while, and the neighbors will complain, and i’ll sit on the curb with my forehead on my knees, holding nothing but intangible regret. next, i’ll either get over it, or obsessively think about him and the ashes smudged on the inside of my eyelids for longer than my sanity. i’ve never really liked someone and been able to daydream about the real possibility of us turning into something greater; of tire swings and painted mailboxes and overgrown, green lawns. it’s always been pretending and fake hope and melodramatic doom. i think it’s messed up my perception of having feelings for someone, because i can never take it seriously— either i know he’s not right for me, or i know the circumstances prohibit the possibility of us. it makes me never want to give anyone a chance (i can’t even see anyone worth chance-giving) because i know how it ends. i don’t like having this closed off heart so early on; i’m too young to be this bitter.

it burns, but it is a heavenly kind of fire