every one of these songs
sounds the same
maybe that’s why i like them
cause im scared of change

thats why am i so ******* scared
to catch feelings
if this time it could be good
so much better than the last time

moving away
from my childhood home
the only streets i really know
where am i going to go

how can i ever improve myself
if i am too afraid
to take the steps
and do something that scares me

i know my current state
is not the best
i have to challenge myself
if i ever want to grow

i must be
utterly submissive
and take it all
to respect you
and for you
to respect yourself
you must
control and
belittle
the people who
should matter

sunday and i mark the day inadequate. good things are coming up next week. anxiety is coming up right now. and all i can think of is myself. my suffering. my shaking hands so cold to match my feet. the dealer of the drugs i was too hooked on to take once more and never again. the 3/4 bottle of ***** under my jeans in my dresser drawer that has been there for months. the friends who i have spent four days with and now i am convinced they hate me because i am finally alone and can hear my thoughts because they are not drowned out by meaningless conversation. the calories in the chips i am forcing myself to eat because i cant go back to starving even though now seems a perfect time to pick up the habit once again. the three year old puffy scars on my thighs that i want to reopen. the boy down the road who understood the unsaid exchange of using each other for our bodies and it never filled the right hole. the friend who is dead and i don’t want to do that to everyone all over again it hasn’t even been a month since she kicked it. the fact that the world doesn’t revolve around me i don’t need to be so jealous so entitled so demanding. the father who never loved me before but now he really never will along with the rest of the family he can manipulate. the fact that good things will happen next week and i need to keep going to see them.

he is captivating but it is unfounded
what more do i know than just a handful
still i can imagine myself laying with him
it’s dark but i can still see his warm eyes shine
we laugh at something dumb, cheesy, simple
i don’t even know what his voice sounds like
we have never spoken in person
would he even want to
but i can just imagine him saying something
it’s clever and teasing, he has a sharp tongue alright
but how do i know that for sure
unless i speak to him for real
i can just picture him in the night
looking up at the sky
moonlight accentuating his pale skin, deep blue under eyes
and the shine of his brown eyes and nearly black hair
i like the contrast
i like to live in black and white

i want to see
all the glorious things
that are in store for me
so i must stay alive

i want to finish
all the books i put down
and never opened again
and then some more

i want to walk through forests
through meadows and mountain trails
through ocean water
through creeks in autumn

i want to draw every beautiful face
every soul worth remembering
photograph every pink-orange sunset
every smile of my dearly beloved

i want to write my poems
maybe they are only mediocre at best
but they give me a little outlet
channel out the ***** water into something beautiful

i want to fall in love
for real this time and not with someone toxic
someone real and genuine and kind
maybe it will be myself

i want my mind to be on my side
who else will guide me if not my own judgement
i need to have strength and clarity
i need to get better

i have weathered the storms
maybe more are to come
but i think i can move forward
and not forget the lessons learned

how will i ever
lead a beautiful life
if i am preoccupied
with the idea
that i am not

i don’t know how to speak
i always get so scared
feeling perpetually threatened
in every social situation
i speak too much too deeply
about taboo or personal things
or not at all
sometimes my mouth is bone dry
but i still feel
the sensation of choking

boy number one.

it was the end of eighth grade
coming in from gym class
i remember it was a hot day in may
i was still wearing the black uniform shorts
you were walking behind me in line
snaked your hands up the back of my thighs
as your friends laughed along
at my bright red cheeks
my shaky voice telling you off
and i got to wear teary eyes to the last class of the day
i wasn’t the only girl
and four years later you’re still doing it
my mom told me
that’s what boys do when they like you
and that’s why i never told her
about any of the other boys

boy number two.

i was barely fourteen years old
and it was just you and me
and your ***** (laced?) ****
you told me to hit it
again and again
there i was
twitching in your backseat
your hands on my convulsing thighs
i took the marks home
where you ripped my shirt off
you told me they’d go away
i still have the memories
they are the same each time i relive them
i trusted you

boy number three.

it is safe to say i loved you
for a long while
even after all you put me through
i now understand
coercion does not equal consent
you’d beg me
and i would say no
you made me feel so guilty
but you’d always kiss me right after
(that doesn’t make it okay)
i wish that i had a bigger backbone
and said no
when you asked to come over last month
you said you’ve changed
but you haven’t
and your new girlfriend doesn’t seem to mind
(i don’t forgive you anymore)

boy number four.

every time i would say no
you would laugh
and keep going
just because i said yes once
does not mean yes every time
im glad i called it quits with you
and i will do the same
to any other person
who does anything like you

my daddy says it’s okay to be a lesbian
my daddy says a ******* a girl is hot
the same way whiskey sinking to your belly is hot

daddy why would you fetishize my love
why would you fetishize my family
daddy why do you love to drink every night

and what are you so afraid of

i wish i had
more confidence,
some self esteem,
a sense of happiness that isn’t fleeting.

i feel most empty
as i silently lust after
people unaware of my presence
and how i truly feel.

i would rather play on the safe side
than get too close to the flame
and get burned-
again.

i deprive myself
of the things i know i truly want
somehow i am always preoccupied with how they will disappear
rather than savoring them while they are still here.

would it really be so bad
if you kissed me
every once in awhile

i know you think about it

i know you miss me

i love you, kitty,
you’re truly my best friend.
you’re getting old,
your time’s coming to its end.
you’re getting weaker, and you’re getting sicker.
your coat’s still soft, though it was once much thicker.
i will miss looking into your green eyes.
i will miss holding you while i cry.
you’ve been there for me, and through it all.
i remember when i got you, in 2009’s warm fall.
you were so beautiful then, the color of pale wheat.
you’re still beautiful now, moseying down the street.
your golden fur shines in the sun.
i’ll never forget all our days of laughs and fun.
your memory will never leave me, you’ll always be by my side.
you’re such a good boy, that cannot he denied.
so in your last years, i’ll treat you extra good.
i’ll give you lots of snacks and pets, just like i should.
i love you, Tommie.

how can you love me
when you put the bottle first
our “family” passes around
hand-me-down bruises
and secondhand insults
most of which stem from you

i long to be like a tree
to shed all my burdens
watch them descend to the ground
below me
shriveled and dead
i am barren of baggage and *******
i am free
i long to be like a tree

if i write a poem about you
you are either
doing something very right
or something very wrong

it is an ache
that does not seem to dull.
you will wonder everything you did wrong.
when you see him around
you will avoid eye contact.
you will still watch him from afar.
suddenly you feel
his arms around you
his chest against yours.
but now he’s nowhere to be found
except in your memories, your imagination,
and your camera roll.
you were once his confidant.
now you are a blocked contact in his phone.
even if you have not crossed paths in months,
he will still cross your mind from time to time.
you remember
his cat.
that awkward thanksgiving dinner at his grandparents’ house.
you remember his new girlfriend.
and then you remember how he said you were the only girl he has ever loved
and would ever be able to.
and you remember his middle name.
you remember his favorite drink-
dr. pepper no ice-
and you know what you did wrong
and now you’re writing sad poems
about him
while listening to sad songs
not about him but they could be
and the lyrics remind you
of what you had.
the ache has not yet dulled.
you can’t help but remember him
when you look at
the jar of pennies
on your desk.

a royal blue ocean
turned black by veil of night
the lighthouse stands alone
on an island made of rock
and moonlight spills
onto everything below
shiny, dark waves
rush onto the shore

nature is full of honesty
like the ring of age
when you tear down a tree

you were
seventeen with
deep brown eyes
and a warm complexion

play me a song that
doesn’t consist of
your lies or
disregard for my emotions

tell me i’m pretty
then say that i’m fat
make up your mind
and play me a song

strum the strings
but don’t use your words
it just sounds better
when you’re silent

your mother once told you
girls don’t always know
what they want
and she’s right

when i saw you for the first time
i wanted you
i loved your look, your charm

i had yet to learn about your
hatred (for yourself and others)
irrational fears
and manipulative nature

you played hard to get
and hurt me
before it even began

i have a bad habit
for liking things that
destroy me
(you, nicotine, among other things)

i chased you despite the hurt
i chased you
to get past your facade

you warned me, i will admit
you tried to deter me
but i was your enigma
and you were the apple of my eye that warm august

i fell into love
quickly
and out of it even faster

and every time i tried to end things
you begged me
stay
you said you would change

you never did

your only ambitions were
the army
and to own all the pure copper pennies circulation

i never liked that

i want the world
i want to be something
and you want
pennies

don’t force me
to love you
please

it’s old
and i know we both like vintage
but this ‘romance’
is untastefully outdated

i want to be
like those girls  
like a barbie

i despise my past self for
chopping off my hair
eating too much

i will change
i will be like her
conventional

a change
into a completely
different form

i will change
i no longer want to
stay the same

i no longer want to be
me as i am
today

shed your fat
like the leaves from the tree
you sat under in the fall
by winter
your frame is protruding
i can see your ribs
and the snow between
your thighs
you’re growing so thin
if you don’t stop
you will die
melt into the ground
decompose
you walking corpse

i remember your tiny bedroom
all of its glory
guitars on the floor
***** glasses on the nightstand
warm red cream soda
my mouth was dry
but you didn’t mind

the things that seemed so big back then

now seem so small

will i feel the same

in another 10 years

i liked life much better when all i had to worry about was
what was for lunch and spelling tests

things were so much easier then so much calmer
but flowers can’t grow without some change and rainy weather

were you made to taste like
the sunny november mornings of 2009
not a cloud in the sky
no tears in my bright, young eyes

were you put here to remind me
of the times when things were simpler
wake up, go to school, color some pictures
then go to bed, wiggling loose teeth until i doze off

i look down at myself
eyes bigger than my stomach
still i feel disgusting
in this skin

seven years of torture
almost will be eight
will i let these
disgusting thoughts win

i think about the time
when my thighs were pure
not a scar or stretch mark
on the skin

now i look at them and
things have really changed
you can tell
ive been suffering again

but why does my worth
have to come from
the percent of perfection
of my skin

why does my worth
have to come from
only the body
that i’m in

i am confused
because i just can’t
sleep

i stay awake
until my paranoia wins
and then some

it’s funny

in some twisted, ironic way

the food you brought up

you pray goes down

it has not even been two years
since i evicted my fat
so grossly.

then i welcomed it back home for winter.

it stayed awhile.
and now i remember why
i wanted it gone
so bad
in the first place.

you have worn out your
yellow welcome.
it is time for a
white goodbye.

i do not need
the insulation any longer-
i want to be as cold
as my heart.

i want to purge you
like the calories that caused you.

i will never be beautiful
so long as you are around.

i am the imperfection
in your work of art
which you erase until
i cease
to exist
and so does the idea
that i could ever be a part
of something so beautiful.

i am the blood on
the mattress and
the mud stain in the carpet.
i am the roach
skittering
into the dark
to hide
where it is more comfortable.
to where
i belong.

i am the dirt below the casket.
i do not see the light of day
anymore.

the phantom pain that feels like you
feels like
the place where i used to live.
familiar but foreign,
all at once.

i pretend
not to know her name so
i don’t seem like i care
too much,
but
i remember her name
and i do care,
a lot.

i guess you prefer her brown eyes
over my blues.
i know it’s selfish of me
but the feeling of missing you
is ever-present.

and i can’t even get a text back.

do you still think of me?
i look at pictures
of you,
of her,
of the smile that i don’t get to see anymore.
i know she makes you happy.
shouldn’t i just want you
to be happy?

seeing you with her is tearing me down
from the inside out.
i can’t stand the thought
of another girl
touching you.

your kiss
sets me alight
i know it was sinful
i know im trying to be closer to god
but i can’t help but remember
the taste of your lips
and the way you used to smell
it was
intoxicating
addicting

i know i acted like i didn’t want it
but it was only because i didn’t think i would lose you
so
soon.

i have been graced with
a voice so sweet
and this voice rings like a bell.
a church bell, to be precise.

i know others hear this
comforting sound.
the words she speaks and sings
so pleasantly
stick in our minds
like the golden honey she
does not allow.

she commands us to ritualistically douse ourselves
in water
as if it were holy.
as if it will cleanse our wrongdoings.

every day is accompanied by her singsong voice
in the background,
whispering in our ears.

and even though this voice is angelic
the words it professes are
not so polite.

this voice is a ringing in my ears
that will not leave.