The gentlest of flowers
are constantly trampled
under heavy boots

Time is a witness -- night and day don’t get along.
Immiscible like water and oil.
Either you are black, white, or don’t belong,
A dandelion drowning in a sea of soil.

There’s always an ultimatum, a dichotomy,  
A ****** war of who's wrong or right.
Discord reigns supreme with sole autonomy,
When, in fact, the answer lies in twilight.

There is no such thing as absolutes
In a world as rich and diverse as this one.
It takes wisdom to know what constitutes
A solution to the question of who won?

The answer is not black, nor white, but gray,
A compromise where both sides have a say.

I keep finding bullets stuck between my teeth
The same ones you bought the day you decided the ceiling would look better covered in blood.
Maybe that’s why everything I say
sounds like it’s is trying to **** me.
But what do you do
when you stand in front of a mirror
with a gun to your head
and your reflection smiles back at you?
What do you do
When you stand in the middle of a busy road
And every driver is a different version of yourself you’ve tried to ****.
Every version of yourself
No one could love.
My mother used to get in fist fights with the mirror and expect to win
She says I look just like her
Maybe that’s why I wake up and can’t recognize who I am.
I checked the obituaries this morning
Trying to find myself again
It’s a habit I picked up from you
But I never thought your name would end up there before mine.
Sometimes I imagine what death feels like
Sometimes I imagine kissing you instead
By now it feels like I’m imagining the same thing.
Someone once told me that begging you to come home
Isn’t the same as praying
Maybe that’s why God stopped listening
and started smashing the windows of every place I thought we could be happy in.
Your smile looked a lot like the light at the end of the tunnel
Right before the train hits you.
I used to squint my eyes when I looked at you
Like I was looking at the sun
Or a car accident I wanted to be part of
I’m sorry I ever thought you could be anything ugly to me
You were the only beautiful thing in this hideous place.
I couldn't look at you clearly,
because I knew I would see my own face staring back at me and
your eyes were the only place I never wanted to be dead inside of.
You can only break your knuckles so many times
Before you cant hold yourself together anymore.
My hands haven’t stopped shaking since you left
I don’t know how to tell them you’re not coming back.
See, I used to say I never wanted to end up like my father
Now I have to say I never want to end up like you,
Which means I can’t leave without saying goodbye
But I tried to write my eulogy last night
And realized it's hard to write about someone I never knew.

Who am I?
Am I a thing that everyone else,
Except for me
Created?
Am I
“Another one of those”?
No
Never again
I am a person
My own wants
My own ideas
My own creation
Myself
I can not be changed
Controlled
I am free
I am happy
Am I
God's masterpiece?
No
I am my own

I never drank before I lost you, but I still feel you coursing through my veins.
Your lips fit my mouth better than the bottle ever will.
I tried replacing my blood with alcohol, so I wouldn't have to carry you around as a constant reminder of what I've lost.
I still feel you in the morning when I can barely feel myself.
I still feel your hand in mine when I drive alone at night with the windows down, music blasting.
I still feel every beat of your heart in my head and it just won't stop.

I took a blade to my skin to get rid of the alcohol -- Or was it to get rid of you?
Either way I'm still stuck thinking about you as I'm laying here bleeding to death.
"I'll never leave you." -- At least you kept your promise.

I can't get over you*
      But I hate you.
  You hardly come around.
I used to date you when your time frame was more abrupt
    You'd show up with a kiss and a hug
  Give me the gift of love
With no glove on, just pure touch
      Pushing your button and gripping you tight
   We used to get by
You'd always take me back
  For the very last time
Stuck between whether it's wrong or its right
     Being this naked
We'd always fight and when it was amazing, even they loved it.
       From cover to cover, our bed was made up and it read like this:
      "Here lies Poetry and her Poet, God rest their souls on crumpled paper"*
      If we make it
And our love is a mainstream instrumental, will you come back and talk to me or will you choke me on your lies,
All your promises meeting their demise in a pair of telling deceitful eyes that I couldn't draw
    The paper might rip in these hands made of straw
      But the years will drag on with me gripping two halves beyond repair trying to grasp the reality of your infidelity