Your face is in the trash at Walgreens,
because I printed out a group picture,
        and you were in it,
so I cut you out.

You don't deserve to be in my college
        photos folder
with all my good memories.
Maybe if you didn't think I was a liar
and if you were a little more caring,
your face wouldn't be in the trash at
        Walgreens.

I always knew I looked like her:
same eyes, smile, ****** expressions,
and even our glasses and smiles.
I always knew that my curls and her
        straight hair separated us.
I always knew that we liked the same things,
disliked the same things.
I always knew our hands wrote the
        same.
I always knew that her fear of
        something
and my love for that thing
made us unique,
but today I learned something new.
We talk the same.
I may swear more,
but I'm not really sure.
I've heard her swear once when she
        was mad,
and every other time,
she was reading a foul line.
But when we're happy,
we have the same tone,
the same speed,
the same words.
When we're sad,
you can hear it in our voices,
see it in our eyes,
notice it in our slouching spines.
And when we're proud of others,
we let them know.
Oh, over and over again,
we let them know.
I'm proud to say I'm like her,
and maybe not seeing her for a year,
I'll be okay.

I stopped caring
…about everything, really.
And now look at me,
I'm carefree.

I got over the boy
of two years' desire
in a single day,

but no matter how much I've tried,
getting over you,
a month's desire
and the only month I've had
where a man was good to me,
is not something that will come soon
or with ease.

I don't know if or when
I'll move on from this phase,
which I hope I'll be able to call it,
but I sure hope I do
if you don't hop on this ship
and join me down this river.

Chopping it off is my expression.
I've had this same chop since I was not
        even seven.
Chop it all off and rid the rotten in my
        past.
I'll miss my curly locks, but I've got to
        move on.  Anyway, this won't last.

I know I sound like Miley,
and soon I'll look her,
but one thing's for sure:
I'm doing this for me.

I made the mistake
of reading past scripts
after a rejection
that hit me harder than the rest.

Monsoons didn't come,
but I'm sure they will.

Every morning, I wake
up and long for
his body beside mine
and know it will never be.