I was so busy
folding you up
into my
favorite animals
that you yourself
became a
paper swan,
swept away
by a subtle wind
leaving me with
these paper cuts
across my heart.

You sang to my body
with your lips,
and when I fell
I was expecting arms
strong enough to catch me.
But instead,
you let my body hit the ground
and you danced around the mess you made
so you wouldn't get my blood
on your shoes.
I am trying to clean up
the crime scene you have made of me,
I am trying to rip away the caution tape,
and hide the stains,
but no one touches me anymore
because they see what you did,
and they don’t want to be another
building I jump off of.

I roll my feelings up
and burn them to the ground
I enjoy the sound
of silent crying
I only want the things
that cannot be bought
I enjoy to shout
I've been smoking a lot
and starting to doubt
if i'm breathing you in
or smoking you out.

My body is a home for trillions of cells
and if I think of them as sentient beings
I won’t hurt myself because
I will risk anything to protect others and
keep them safe.
If only I could do that
for my own sake

I hope one day,
Your human body,
Is not a jail cell,
Instead it's a sunny,
2 pm garden with daises,
thriving because of ,
self love.

It wasn’t that my dresses were too short,
Or my sentences too long.
It wasn’t that my hair was green,
And my mascara smudged,
It wasn’t that my laugh was too loud,
And my voice too quiet.
No,
It was that I didn’t apologize
For the things you didn’t like.

I wore my skirts with pride,
And fired my sentences at warp speed,
I died my hair green again, then blue,
I let my mascara ghost my eyes
And I laughed, laughed, laughed,
And sometimes - I just stayed quiet.

No,
What really bothered you
Weren’t the imperfections,
It was the confidence that let me love them,
It was the independence that let me embrace them,
It was the strength that let me be who I am.

You didn’t mind that my voice was quiet,
You minded that I didn’t stutter.

He tells me to write it out,
to shout at the page
and scream at the top of my pen
but he doesn't know
that my heart is stuck in my throat
blocking the air
holding the breath
and silencing the truth
that has no words
For the absence felt
In the vacuum of space
where my feelings used to be

I want to drown
In the depths of your mind,
In the sea of your soul.
Or maybe while I’m swimming down there,
In the dark, inky ocean that is your thoughts,
I can pull you to the surface of them
And teach you how to breathe.

I’ve always loved the rain. Maybe because I found comfort in the way it clouded up my fears and worries and made the world seem so much smaller. I felt more at home amidst the misty downpour than I ever did in blinding sunlight. Rainy days seemed to match my mood so much better than most things and the sky has always has been something I can rely on. It’s everchanging qualities remind me that change is possible and often even necessary

Why am I stupid for getting bad grades?
how am I not trying?
I bet when I'm dying
I will not regret
the lack of math problems
and time that iv'e spent
on essays, and quizzes,
and dumb stuff like that.

Because your eyes burn holes, and I liked the pain.
Because I long to kiss you in the rain.
Because when you touched my skin, I knew what it means ‘to be home.’
Because I’m tried, sick and tired, of being alone.
Because your skin shines like apples with water kissing their shell.
Because I want to be your apple; be my insides, my core, my outside as well.
because I’m cold and need a home.
I know it’s stupid, but I'm just so alone.

You keep laying yourself down
like a jacket over a puddle
because you don’t want to see
anyone with damp feet. Look
at all the footprints - you are
becoming more walkway than
person. Get up, get up, you
are developing more than just
damp feet - you are becoming
damp-souled and damp-hearted.
You are kind and loving and
you need to stand up now.

I am not a graceful person.
I am not a Sunday morning, or a Friday sunset.
I am a Tuesday, 2am., gunshots muffled by a few city blocks,
I am a broken window during February.
My bones crack on a nightly basis.
I fall from elegance with a dull thud, and I apologize for my awkward sadness.
I sometimes don't believe I belong around people,
that I belong to all the leap days that didn't happen.
The way light and darkness mix under my skin has become a storm.
You don't see the lighting, but you hear the echoes.

There’s a whole world of
poetry in your mouth that
I’m dying to kiss.

If you ever feel like a room without a roof, I will always be your shingles. Even in the darkest parts of a February snowstorm, I will drag you to the surface and show you sunshine.
I have always wondered how someone like you could make a forest fire like me as calm as water, because you're not just a boy, you're a storm with skin and I am ready for a little thunder.

Who am I
to stay down when you trod me
it isn't my nature to lie here and weep
you can take my whole body
and **** me and pinch me
but i'm thinking of rising
from this hole so deep

I will fill it back up
with a new way of living
with great understanding
and take on forgiving
and ******* for pushing
but my scenes are strong
and my beautiful scars
I shall carry on

Where does love come from?
And where does it go
When two people can’t feel
Anymore?
Does it settle somewhere?
In your heart,
In your head?
Does it completely leave you
For someone else
Just like she did?