You don't deserve me, as a friend.
All I ever do is hurt.
I hurt you; I hurt me.
I am constantly empty;
constantly broken.
You deserve better than that.
Someone whole,
who you can laugh with;
smile with;
dream with.
Someone who hasn't been to battle with the world.
You don't deserve me.
You deserve so much more.

I throw my phone,
Crashing against the wall.
I cry,
And scream again.

My hand shaking,
I reach into an open fridge.
Slamming the fridge door shut,
Till i hear the crack from a fractured bone.

I clutch myself too hard till it left bruises,
Dragging my nails down my arm backs.

I sit on a brand new carpet,
A room neat as a pin.
Carve her initials into my ankles,
Angled lines rough letters like a child draws.

Just a voice in my head,
telling myself;
I never want to see her again
Cradling my ankle the letters bead up with blood.

This pen bleeds on this page.
I grow older every day I age
and I'm not sure I like the way

that he looks at me when
he's confused.
Boy, I don't have all the
answers.

I read books
      to figure out where I'm
  heading

  and i lack the capacity
to explain to you
                   where i've been.

So I'm sorry
that after we make love
in your room that smells like
a basement, I don't
want to talk about
all of my past boy-lovers
because- and this must
be hard for you to understand, --
they    *****     me.
So when we're lying naked
in your dorm room
mattress
(that we put on the floor,
somehow thinking that it
creates more space for
us), I'm sorry.
Don't feel like I don't
talk to you about anything
Maybe I can't tell you
because I have spent my
whole life trying to erase
it from my head

I tried to lose it
but i'm just
losing you.

I could tell you in a
poem. But i just
can't write anymore
because this ink
looks like black blood
and i'm so sick
of cutting myself open
for other people.
This page is bleeding
because
     ****.
I need to bleed
                      to feel.

        I remember when I was 14
and i watched the bathtub
water turn red- i would
smile at the crimson flowing
like some sort of sign from
God that I was alive
and now, I love it when
I get bruises.
or when I cry
because it means that I'm alive
and it's not socially acceptable
to remind myself anymore.
I have scars
      so i smoke cigars
  and i get high when
I inhale. and you're not
supposed to inhale. But i
always do because i
don't just want to taste
smoke in my mouth.
I want to float
    away.
I want to feel
    again.
I want to lay on
a cold bathroom floor
and feel safe and
   protected by the locked
      door
while I watch a small
red puddle
form
on the tiles.

Remember,

people care about you

they think about you far more than you think they do

they see something that reminds them of you on the street or in a store and they smile because you are a great person and they love that they know you

knowing you makes them happy

knowing you might make them sad too, because sometimes people want more from you than you’re willing to give, but you shouldn’t dwell on making them upset because you are still great and you still bring more happiness to them on most days

sometimes people get sad and that’s not your fault

it is not your job to make a person feel better, and changing who you are just to make them feel better is just a false sense of loyalty that you’re showing them; and anyway, it is far more rewarding to nurture other people by being true to who you are because it is simultaneously nurturing yourself.

when you are sick, get as much affection as you possibly can and do not feel bad about it

tell someone you love them because you just do, not because you feel guilty, obligated or crave their approval

it’s not the end of the world if people don’t need you and it’s probably not the healthiest thing if they are constantly depending on you to clean their messy lives up all the time

you will never regret putting “go to the library” on your to-do list, even if you are swamped and stressed with other things to do; there is nothing quite like being among a whole world of books

don’t be embarrassed about your laugh or blowing your nose in public or even turning bright red when you do get embarrassed because there is nothing wrong with any of these things

you can be sincere or you can be manipulative, but remember that you know how it feels to be manipulated too

people ******* over all the time, but that just makes them people and you are just the same as these people because you do it too, so lighten up and see it’s not a big deal, but don’t let them walk all over you time and time again because that is just disrespectful to yourself

learn when to stay and when to walk away

you are awesome

Stumbling.. wandering through the darkness .. alone,
grasping for something.. anything,
reaching out, longing for someone.
Bitter cold.. all encompassing.
A soul afraid.. crying out in the night.

True beauty,
scarred.. hidden by the sufferings of the past,
a heart soiled, a spirit fractured.
The emptiness,
the need to be...

a mask.

Here i am.. look at me,
hold me.. love me.. want me.
A brief respite,
a moments relief from the pain,
suddenly, the mask shatters.. the peace no more.

Continuing.. so tired,
one shatters.. another replaces,
the never ending facade.
True Joy.. Happiness.. Peace,
always at a distance, forever out of reach...

When hiding ...
**Behind The MASK.

What's wrong?
Are you okay?

I'm fine.

Why do you ask
Such stupid questions?

Of course, I'm not.

I put on a smile
But inside I want to cry.
Sometime, the smile fades
And you ask why.

Darlin, you should know
That when you're constantly flirting with her,
It doesn't make me feel good.
That's for sure.

I told you everything.
You should know,
That I've been broken down
Since a long time ago.

Do it right, boy,
Or you're gonna lose me.
Treat me right, boy,
Or that's my guarantee.

I cried because I just wanted to share it with you,
The way that you share things with me.
I never complain to you because you're my sweet.
But while I was sharing my happiness with you,
you were whining.
The exact same way that you whined when I was honest.
I was honest in saying I did not want to sleep with you anymore,
but I guess that doesn't matter.

I cried because you don't talk.
You don't talk unless it is about guns, trucks or ***.
I  wish you could speak to me with sweet gentleness
Of things that mean everything but mean nothing.
I want you to be smart.
I want you to be thoughtful.
I want you to be a romantic.
I want you to sing me a sinfully sweet lullaby.

I cry,
because I want to be blissfully happy.