I'm sorry
if I make you
uncomfortable.

77 miles to the place
I call home.
No drama,
no ****.
Just family and more.
To grow a smile on my face,
and get away from this place
I abhor.

The neighbors' constant bumping
isn't a bother,
even if it is 9 in the morning,
and I should still be sleeping.

But happiness I have not felt
in a while
trumps all.

Need to feel it now
before I find it slipping away.

You act like you’re the only one,
the only one who has urged to self-harm
to make the pain go away.

Tell me about it.
Tell me about how you’re alone
and pain might be your sole escape.

You’re going to tell me anyway,
because you’re alone and I know nothing.
I’ve never harmed myself.

I don’t use my hands against myself.
I don’t hold myself back from fighting back.
I don’t let myself hurt myself.

You’re alone,
no one gets you.
Right.

You don’t see reality.
You don’t see that it’s you who gets no one,
it’s you who makes others feel alone.

It’s you who’s made my hands turn on me,
and fight the physical and mental battle
against myself.

You act like you’re the only one,
the only one who has gone to self-harm
to make the pain go away.

Wondering where you've been all my life.
Take me into your loving arms.
I just started living.
Darling, I will be loving you till we're 70.
Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars.

When you say you need me,
know I need you more.
Place your head on my beating heart.

I'm scared.
Oh, so scared.
But when you're near me,
I feel like I'm standing with an army
of men armed with weapons.

Maybe we found love right where we are.

I love lying next to you.
I could do this for eternity,
you and me.

When my hair's all gone and my memories
        fade,
I know you will still love me the same.

When you say you love me,
know I love you more.

I'll miss you
until you're in my arms
again.

Until I know you're mine
again.

Until I see your beautiful face
again.

Until I hear your laugh
again.

You make this all so
worth it,

and I can't wait
to look into your eyes
again.

Never before have I known
someone
who I've wanted nothing more
from
than to hold
your hand,
and lean by your
side.

My face is covered in salt

because of you.

If love never dies,

then what you had for me

was never love.

I'll see you once more,

call it quits.

The best part of this

is being able

to make a happy song

sad.

Choosing

to get to

know you

was the

biggest

mistake

I've made

in my life.

God tried to warn me,

and the devil tricked me.

Tears in the shower

caused by a friend,

would rather die

than be hurt again.

All we know
is we want to be
each other's firsts.

Can't wait to be alone,
be away from it all.
Everyone's gone,
or we hate everyone,
or everyone hates us,
and we only have each other.
I only wish this could last forever.

We get the sun, the moon,
the stars, the clouds - all to ourselves.
No one can interrupt us.
No one's here to disturb us.
No one can tell us what to do.
Everyone's gone,
and we've got things to do.

Anxiety is fun.
Loads of fun.

Freaking out over the life lost
that has nearly begun.

Heart pounding to the thought
of my teaching career in the future.

Freaking out about the great friends
I've made, and the man
I just started talking to.

Breaths shortening to the thought
of failing my first year.

I want to live, to achieve,
to not lose another, to succeed.

Why do I have to be so anxious…
about everything?

I fit in over There
more than I do over Here.
Though Here is where my heart is,
There is so much more comforting.

They don't force me to do things There,
they want me to be with them when I'm over There.
Here, I'm forced to do things
that make me want to pull my teeth out.
Here, I follow them around like a lost puppy looking for food.

Though Here is much more eye-appealing,
There is the only place I wish to be.
As long as I'm with the people There,
I am happy that I'm Anywhere.

I remembered today a recent memory repressed.
I recall how my scared mind yelled when it happened,
It is technically in!
Oh my God, it's gone farther!

It's technically not considered ****,
it didn't go very far.
But I felt things I've never felt before,
and I've done a lot of things.

If his underwear weren't there,
it would have been ****.
But his underwear was there,
still I felt my privacy and lifestyle intruded,
and I still don't know what to call that day.

This was the day he left me.

A whole new world,
a wondrous place I thought
I knew.

What's this feeling I feel?
It's like it's real.

Is this how desire feels?
To want him to hold me
and never let me go?

Everyone is so excited to hear
the baby is near...

but when the baby is here,
and the future isn't clear,

the number of people who steer
clear of your tears...

is larger than you'd fear.

It has scratches and marks,
folds and wrinkles,
some lines from my oil pastels.
Some gloss and color have peeled away,
the corners folded in or out -
they decide.

It's not old...
fresh on the paper,
into the world almost one year ago.
The colors it shows have aged almost three years,
but its holder not.

Its tears and its scratches,
its marks and its lines,
the folds and the creases,
are from a year of hands holding,
from a year of moving from desk to book,
book to desk.

My wall is empty white now,
only bearing the bright colors
the beat-up photograph beholds.
The smiles, the two smiles, on a day of celebration,
remind me of days better,
of happiness that was,
happiness that can be.

The beat-up photograph
is one that is bittersweet.
Sadness for the one smile not with me,
for the other that used to be.
Glee for the memories made,
for the laughs laughed
and the smiles grinned.
Melancholy for longing to go back,
leave the dark behind.

Its tears and rips,
folds and scrapes,
marks and chips,
they avoid the teeth -
the teeth smiling,
the teeth reminding.
A forehead scratched,
but eyes avoided...
presenting true happiness attained.
I see the truth through eyes on paper
in a beat-up photograph.

If our love is at the end,
then why do I still want you?

If you're looking for love
Know that love don't live here anymore
He left with my heart
They both walked through that door without me

I put you high up in the sky,
and, now, you're not coming down.

I used to believe love conquered all.

I guess I got no Valentine.
Send me roses, I'll just let them die.
I was crazy thinking you were mine,
it was all just a lie.

I meant to start a war.
And by using force,
I'm never gonna let you win.

I came in like a wrecking ball.
I never hit so hard in love.
All I wanted was to break your walls.
All you ever did was wreck me.

Don't you ever say I just walked away,
I will always want you.

We kissed, I fell
under your spell.

You left me crashing in a blazing fall.
All you ever did was wreck me.

You told me that you wanted this,
I told you it was all yours.

I'm hurting myself.

If you're done with it,
then what you say forever for?

I'm hurting myself.

If forevers out the door,
I'll ignore when you call.

Oh, it seemed like everything was going fine.
I found the love that I thought was gonna last.

You told me you were coming back,
right back.
Promised it was real and I believed that.

You acted like you wanted this,
but then you led me on.

Oh, you broke my heart
I told you I was weak for love
But then you went around
And did what you wanted to do
And now I'm crying, crying

I always knew I never wanted this;
I never thought it could happen.

But all the broken promises I won't miss,
I'm finished.
All I know are the facts
that when I look you in the eyes,
all I see are the lies.

I got a lot of nasty things flowing up in my head
But none of them are worth my time
You're not even worth this rhyme
And I don't, I don't give a flying

You left me crashing in a blazing fall.

Blossomed from the dark shadows,
hit with hail and storms throughout
the summer days,
blossoming into a new season,
a new life chapter,
to find its protector's shoe,
hovering over the young bud
like a storm cloud on a humid day.
Blossomed, now wilting,
it waits for the stomp,
waits for its crunch.

I'm getting past him
by burning his name
and burning a drawn replica.

The fire was set,
the ashes were settled,
now the memory of him is fading.

I burned myself,
because my Catholic conscience
got the better of me.

I told myself it's what
God wanted.
I've a touched a man

and let him touch me
before exchanging our vows.
I'll wear my veil

to hide my guilt
and my shame.
I'll hide my burns.

Burning myself
wasn't enough,
no water hot enough.

Red splotches covered me,
I wasn't satisfied.
I don't deserve to look

"normal."
My mistakes must be
exploited,

because I tell myself
I'm a *******
and I want to burn this ****.

That drunken buzz
was enough to make
me never want to do
that again.

I can’t stop.
I won’t stop.

The thoughts keep coming,
keep pouring into my head.

I wish I could forget,
and move on forever

and ever more:
to be everlastingly happy.

But I can’t.
They keep coming.

They won’t stop.
They can’t stop.

They keep coming,
keep pouring into my head.

The stress is not worth my time,
my energy.

They make me negative.
They make my world cold.

I am doubtful of myself,
and these thoughts remind me.

They can’t stop.
They won’t stop.

Hatched from their cacoons,
they're all different now.
Changed to different colors,
different tones, different attitudes.
Newly-winged butterflies flutter
to wherever their hearts desire.

Then there's that one caterpillar,
left in the dirt, not wanting to flutter
with the rest, but to walk with the bold
down below.

Change will come, but if the heart
        changes, so will the mind.

The caterpillar with a heart as strong as
        gold
tires of being with the butterflies
who do whatever they please
regardless of its righteousness or
        wrongness.

The caterpillar wants to grow,
but to walk instead of fly
as high as the sky.
To be grounded and strong,
not high and fragile.

Choosing
to get to
know you

was the biggest
mistake

I've made in my life.

The yak-er said,
"Crushing on you so hard"

All I could think of was you.

Dear Minimalist,
Dear Belittler,
Dear Soulless Ginger,
Dear Stupid,
        because I know you hate being called that.
Dear ****,
Dear Liar,
Dear Sexist,
Dear Racist,
        you typical stereotyper.
Dear *******,
Dear *******,
Dear *******,
Dear ******-****,
Dear *******,
Dear *******,
Dear *******,

*******.

You can go from being happy for a day or two,
to remembering why you were so sad in the first place,
and completely throw aside all the happiness
and forget its very existence until it knocks at your door again
and you actually get up and answer it.

I can take something of yours
and put it against you.

I'm gonna take what you love most
and put an end to it.

I'm trying to refrain from writing,
like I did when I had a monster in my life -
I don't want it to be a mistake,
and look back at how I was a fool
yet again.

Don't tell me
you put me first
if in reality
you put me last.

I haven't felt this way
since the witch took my smile away.
I've gone back to the negativity,
stepped back into the doubt, fallen
        back to empty.
Even though I've removed myself
        from toxic air,
the fumes absorbed through my hair,
and into my mind as it traveled.

Nostalgia creeps around every
        corner.
The smell of the fresh, cold spring air
puts me in a familiar field within.
The sweet songs of songbirds
pull me back to my days as an
        observer, a watcher of nature.

But the field is nowhere in sight,
the birds are here, but the grass is
        not.
I cannot tell where I stand anymore,
I stand straight in air that I've known,
thinking it's one I left behind.

Emptiness has never been dropped
upon my head this early in
Earth's rebirth.
Nostalgia is a killer,
and I am its victim.

But I might just leave,
it's too uncomfortable now.
I told you too much,
and you fell to the ground,
scared for me,
scared for you.

Though grateful for concern,
I thought you would have said
        something by now.
I apologized for my outburst, for
        bringing you in when you
        should not have known.
Now my gratefulness for concern is
        withering,
and my comfort around you is
        weakening,
because you have said nothing since
        you showed me concern.
I just wish you'd free me of myself.
I beat myself up over this - and all
        you need to do
is say a word or two.

The emptiness I feel
is so full of self-hatred,
I wonder if I'm even empty.

I'm going to tell you everything.

From thinking of a cut of the hair
to the monster I bared
for that single month of toxic air.

I'm going to tell you everything.

Today,
I put a lot of thought into my future,
dreamed of new dreams,
have myself looking forward
to more than just one thing.
And, most of all,
I just don't feel like crying anymore.

You were my first daydream
in months.  I've been a child,
I've daydreamed before,
but it's been awhile.

So much treachery and negativity
came at once in a storm of fury.
Daydreaming just wasn't on the
        schedule.
But then you came along,

and the negative became positive,
treachery ceased to exist,
the storm ended.
You, like a ray of sun,

shone hope into my life
and let me dream outside my nightly
        mares,
and let go of my worries,
to just think of brighter futures
        and brighter nows.

I am not perfect,
I can be seen as a failure
or even as a disappointment,
but I don’t need you to “fix” me.

The crudeness of their lies is everywhere,
hurts everywhere.
They write best wishes to everyone,
but deliberately put one in the corner.

Their stares bring rain,
and their glares are what welcome her.
There is no warm greeting on the outside of her door.
Open it and find them there.

Her bed tries to bring comfort,
but then another walking stare marches in,
greeting her with a familiar glare,
the one that watches her as she sleeps.

Everywhere she goes, their glares follow.
She tries to walk away, but a stare finds her trail.
She tries to hide, but is always found by a watcher.
She tries to sleep them away, but the glares rip into her dreams.

Their wide eyes are inescapable.
Too many dilated, dark pupils moving as she moves,
dancing to her rhythm, noting all her moves,
spotting all her trips, recording all her falls.

The eyes of them see her discomfort,
and find their own serenity.
These eyes were once welcoming,
now are forever watching, forever following.

It's been four days,
going on five.
Where are you?

If you think I’m a liar,
you can kiss this goodbye.

You say I’m your favorite,
and that we’re great friends,

but when something has scarred me,
a great friend supports
without question.

Have you ever supported me?
No.

So get out.
Get out of my life.

Every time I feel a passing coming,
it heads full-throttle into action,
taking my happiness with a life.

But for my entire life, her passing has felt near,
yet she’s still here.
I fear that once I feel that she’ll be here for a long while more,

she’ll leave.
The Lord will take her from me,
and leave a family with broken hearts.

She fears passing,
saying at ninety she’ll make it to one-hundred.
I get my fear of going from her.

Together, we’ll live forever.
Only have each other,
and a difference of seventy-one years

has not held back our bonds before.
Lord, we pray,
Don’t take us.  Give us forever.

Lord, don’t take her hand from mine.
God, give us more time.
Don’t let Him let the time pass.

She tells us enough we don’t have love for her,
and now I see her once a month -
maybe.

Lord, don’t take her hand from mine.
God, give us more time.
Don’t let the time pass.

If I had known saying goodbye
would be this difficult,
I would have packed
myself in his suitcase.

I just wish that hug never
ended, that he'd still
be holding me in his arms.

When he held my hands,
then tried to pull away,
I only held his hands tighter,
and followed him,
until he could move no more.

I just wish —
I only wish —
I wish he was holding me,
I just want to be holding him.

You told me over and over again,
even after you called it off after me,
you care for me deeply.

But tell me how that's so
if you tell me we'll talk tomorrow,
then have seven days pass

with only two messages
sent to you from me.
You read both.  I saw that.

Again,
Thanks for the text,
all of the ones you never sent.

Again,
Seriously, I did want to talk to you,
but now I don't know what I want.

You read these messages, I saw.
Twenty minutes later,
Read 7:27 PM

I send another,
four hours later,
Read 2:25 AM

Remember when you told me you cared?
And you had to convince me you were honest?
Good luck trying to do that again.

I won't let it happen.

He still has a grasp on me.
I want to run, but he won't let me.
I want to kiss another, but he won't let me.
This is selfish in a way - I'm afraid.
Don't think about what the good guy feels.
Worry about how he wronged you
and so did he,
oh, and he did too.
Kiss him on the cheek,
it's harmless.
If only it were that easy,
for me,
a selfish, stupid child.

I guess we should grow apart,
but I want to still have friendship
when my kids are young and run
around the earth
like electrons around a nucleus.
I want them to grow up knowing
        you,
knowing it's okay to befriend
people like you.

If you think I'm the only one in the wrong,
you got another thing coming for you.

You can take your judgmental attitude
towards everything I do

and let me live my life as I do.

And if that involves me doing art
that you don't understand,
then let me.

If it involves me wearing Pokémon shirts
while I play Pokémon,
even though you think it's dorky,
then let me.

If it involves me hanging out with my friends,
even though you don't like them,
then let me.

And if it even involves me hanging out with my boyfriend,
even though you hate him for no legitimate reason,
then ******* let me.

Because I'm not on this planet to be only your friend,
and it's time to grow up and realize that.

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.

So many people tell me I look happy.
I want to tell them it's all a lie,
but then I'll just break down and cry.

Every night
I hear birds sing
in my head
I hear you call for me.

Every three-hundred seconds,
she danced three-hundred more.
Every three-hundred seconds,

her head bobbed to music,
her foot kept a beat,
and her mouth mouthed a chorus.

No music played,
no beat pounded,
and no lyrics were there to mouth.

Her silent song played from inexistent speakers,
and her body danced to a silent song of chaos,
every three-hundred seconds.