I’m counting paces.
The distance between the warmth of my hearth
and my still-beating heart.

The shortest distance between two points
is just a handful
of measured steps
a mouthful
of tentative breaths
a fistful
of glove
and a heart full
of quiet tenacity.

with these tools I could walk anywhere-
name the points and I’ll join them
with a
trail
of
measured
footsteps.

You think because I'm quiet,
that I am hateful too.

and you think,
that because I am quiet,
I am clever.

Quiet means so many
different things to different people,
innocent,
bored,
unhappy,
angry,
resentful,
narcissistic,­
dreamy,
mysterious,
quaint,
selfish,
shy,
rude,
ignorant,
misant­hropic,

But did you ever think,
that maybe my silence
is the loudest
of all cries for help?

Did you ever think,
that maybe I am silent,
because I am afraid?

I am 10 and the things said to me
again and again are like bullets
in my gut, and punches to my head
they tell me 'its your fault your dad died'
but my friend still turns to me and says
'god, you're so perfect'
I am 12 and these things are still being said
but now by different people, infact,
they are being said by the boy I used to care for
funny that, i thought he cared too

I am 13 and my eyes are bloodshot
and the ****** tissues on my bed
from the state of my wrists
lay scattered in pieces, much like my life
and the next day my friend asks
'why are you so perfect Georgia?'
but she hasn't seen my wrists yet
and she doesn't know about how many tablets
i've taken in one night
just to escape this so-called "perfection"

Now I am 14 and while my friends are out
having a laugh and making memories
I am sitting at home with an elastic band
tied around my wrist, so i keep pinging it
because people started to comment on the state
of my wrists, and legs, and stomach
and I couldn't bear any more mockery
But I'm on pills now, every morning
to control these urges to rid myself
My friend, naive is she, still messages me
saying 'I want to be as perfect as you'
No darling, you do not want this
whatever this may be,
it is not perfection
what sort of perfection
kills you from the inside?

April-** I could have let it be a one night stand but your body was magnetic.
May- On my birthday I only wished for you.
June-  Our first big fight had us erupting like Mt St. Helens. I drank a bottle of cough syrup and spilled my guts. " I love you " I said. You said it back.
July- I found out you were talking to another woman. I was devastated. I'm with another man; maybe that is how you felt.
August- The discussions about me leaving him are becoming more serious. You are moving back in with your mother soon. Ultimately, I decided suicide was my only option.
September- I did it. I left him for you.
October- Arguments are frequent, and one got me so heated that I went upstate for a few weeks. The first night I got there, I gave myself away to another man. It only made the pain stop throbbing for a moment.
November-  My dad wants to strangle you, and he says you are no longer welcome in the house. Myself and my family are now concerned that one day you will hurt me; and not with your words. I would still love you so.
December- Some nights you are my heater, but most you leave me in the blistering cold.