manipulating my body
has always been second nature.
i can be bigger
or smaller on command.
when you look at it this way,
disregard the parts which make me ill,
from a purely aesthetic angle...
anorexia is quite the skill.

somehow it is mid july
and i still shiver,
my body so cold.

a blush on my cheekbones
warms me up from inside out,
too fleeting for comfort.

hello, sweet girl
sweet blonde hair and blue eyes
with the ever-so-perfectly groomed brows
nobody could ever do them quite like you

will you sing to me from heaven?
play your ukelele for us all
and we will hear it
in the form of a soft july storm

you always made me laugh
you made everyone laugh
we should’ve made you laugh more
we should’ve talked more, too late

i will not ever forget
your softly closed eyes and folded arms
we waited on you to jump up
“surprise” you’d say but you didn’t

i cannot forget your family’s tears
as they had to bury their little girl
i can’t resent you for escaping your pain
but i can miss you all i want, right

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

quickly losing interest
in being alive
stardust fizzling out
melted butter

although tomorrow is
not promised,
we must live as if
we will see it.
otherwise when it comes
we are stranded-
halfway house,
numbered days.

i sleep in the same bed
that you hurt me in
every single night.
there are reminders of you
everywhere i look.
usually they fade into the background,
but not tonight.
leave me alone.

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

my parents never loved each other and they never really even loved me. i never saw people happy or in love. so imagine my surprise when you waited. you made me feel special, normal, not like i owed you things. you knew i went through it all by the age of sixteen. you knew how bad the scars itched sometimes. you stayed up with me on the phone reassuring me, you held me on your chest when you could. you did more than you needed to. you never asked for anything in return. don’t get me wrong, we both know things have not always been easy. we both have our helping of insecurity and affliction, among other things. still, every other person i thought i loved filled me up with dread and quite often. their tears were overwhelming, their anxieties were too much, and they didn’t know how to console me, anyone, even themselves. they didn’t believe in growth. your tears on my cheek feel like summer raindrops. i held you till you stopped crying. you told me you can’t bear to hear people speak nice things about you- so i wrote it on a note and put it in your bag. i hope you found it. i am glad you found me. i am glad you waited. i am glad you’ve shown me what love is really like. even if i don’t believe you sometimes, i know you love me.

grasp the mirror.
the reflection is not me,
it is something
distorted and ugly.

what do i look like?
if this is all i see
who is in the mirror?
that thing must be me.

If see her in my face
is it really mine?
Generational trauma
coming from her line.

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.

i am the seed
you planted.
acting as if there’s distance
between you and the root,
but i know you are a gardener.
could you tend to me?
could you get rid of the pests
you placed in my ***?
don’t get rid of me too!
am i just a **** to you?

his eyes are half shut
and the room is dark.
hands gently resting upon
the curve of a waist, a belly.
this is what a home looks like.
those beautiful brown eyes.

i was so afraid
of what i had concocted,
i did not see what was there.
rose colored glasses,
but backwards.

when you view life
more like a compass
and less like a clock

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

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.

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

the first time i was assaulted
my mom said to me
“that’s what boys do when
they like you.”

i often think about this when
i wonder why she stayed
for 22 years
no matter how hard he hit her.

In the midst of some sort of
conventionally accepted Stockholm Syndrome
and compulsory forgiveness,
I am angry.
Why should I
have to be bigger and better
towards the ones who
never gave me
the basic humanity which
I inherently deserve?

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

with every utterance of
“do you still love me?“
i scratch at the scar of
The Mother Wound

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 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.

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.

what a flammable heart
i have.
your fingers matches,
striking against
my matchbox skin.

how do
i want to be perceived?
what do you think when
you see me?

i will kiss you then make my way
to another boy’s house.
i will greet four pairs of lips in two days.
every single one of them will feel the same,
though each attached to a different name.
and when i go home
i will feel empty with only myself to blame.

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

hey yeah i told you i like you
over a snapchat
when i was high off my ***
right after the bonfire with all my friends

and you said
let’s hang out sometime
we don’t talk alot cause
im really ****** shy

i remember the first time i saw you
which is weird
because we’ve never actually spoken
a whole five years ago in art class

we have the same favorite band
and i think you’re cool
you said we should smoke together
and im down sorry if im weird

i wanna go in the woods
and hold your hand
real gentle and tender
see your smile lined with braces

i know your zodiac sign
and i check your horoscope
you send me pictures of dogs
is it cause you know i like them

what should i say
in the next snap i send you
i think i’ll ask
if you haven’t said anything yet

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

although the days still challenge me
they flow with significantly more ease.
no longer do you pollute my mind
i use more hours as productive time.
with bruises you left, i learned to cope
looking forward to life with love and hope.

you have semisoft lips
a solid tongue
one of your bottom teeth angled
at maybe 60 degrees
you breathe through yours
while i use mine
when we kiss
you overpower me