I felt at home in your arms,
and I'm getting really homesick.

(e.k.j.)

I want love so passionately that,
I can't keep your eyes off of you.
I want love so bad that,
my fingers tingle to touch your face.
I want love so rough that,
we wake up the neighbours.
I want love so good that,
I'd know you that you wanted the same,
so I'll never lay awake at night,
wondering if your fingers tingled when you thought of his face,
instead of mine.

(e.k.j.)

I feel a sin progress in my stomach.
Normal people call it hunger.
I call it hell.

(e.k.j.)

A couple of weeks ago my aunt asked me,
what the first thing I noticed about a girl is.

''Her hands''.

The conversation quickly turned *****,
''you just want to know what they are able to do to you''.

At first,
I thought it was funny,
almost agreeing with the statement that had been made but then,
I realised that we all want what we can't have.
Looking down on my own hands for ages thinking that I wish they could just function.
I have been looking for the hands I have never had,
in the girls I have been debating whether or not they were,
girlfriend material,
judging my looks,
my hands,
my shape and my face while other girls wants what I have.

After realising just that,
I decided that from now on,
I will stop looking at hands and look into their eyes instead.

(e.k.j.)

When I told my phsysical therapist that I'm a lesbian,
her answer was a question I did not ever expect;
"So... Are you a lesbian because you are disabled and you cannot get a boyfriend?"
I was speechless,
looking at the wall,
stunned. *******,
she did not just stereotype every single disabled homosexual to have ever existed.
I stammered no,
and I tried to explain that I have had boyfriends before,
it just wasn't my thing.
Looking back now I realise that,
I should not have explained anything because I don't ever need to explain anything about the people I love.
I have had a thing for girls,
since I was three,
and when I was three years old I did not notice my disability,
the way it's being noticed today.
And the absolute most heartbreaking thing about both my sexuality and my disability is,
that I still do not notice it as much as everybody else seems to do.
I can be the best girlfriend ever,
no matter what my sexuality is,
no matter how my body looks.
And don't get me wrong;
I like guys too. I think guys are wonderful.
If God had created Eve and Ava,
who would have brought me into this World?
I can get a boyfriend if I want one,
maybe someday I find the most amazing guy ever,
and I will not let my sexuality stand in my way.
But for now,
I am a disabled homosexual,
who decided to tell you about it.
And dear physical therapist:
I have never judged you,
not even when you told me you fell for a fat guy,
and now you're married.
So don't ask me if I'm only a lesbian,
due to the fact that I have a disability,
because guess what?
I'll have my disability no matter if,
the person I'm dating,
has a ***** or a ******.

(e.k.j.)

Thank you for always being here,
when I needed you the most.
When I asked you to come over,
you were there in a matter of minutes and most days,
you even brought your best friend Anxiety,
so we wouldn't be alone.
Some days,
you asked if you could stay over,
because you were all alone and really needed a hug.
My reply was a of course,
I know how it feels like to be alone in this world.

But now,
now you will not leave,
no one else wants you and I'm stuck here with you in my bedroom.
I don't remember how it felt like,
before you came around and it is like having a best friend you just can't be apart from.
It is weird because sometimes I hate you,
other times I can't live without you.
You can make me feel so important,
yet so dead and I wish I did not have to say this,
but dear Depression,
I think it is time for you to leave.

(e.k.j.)

I'm sorry that this is,
another poem about you. as if,
there's not enough of them already,
but I'm sorry that I didn't fight for you,
it just seemed right at the time,
I guess cause you and him are,
probably a better match than you,
and I ever was and it pains me now,
to know that he can have you,
your whole body,
and everything in between,
when there's absolutely nothing for me to say,
or do about it.

(e.k.j.)

it's like I have to die,
for you to notice me,
and it hurts because,
all you have to do,
is cry a little,
and I would be by your side.

(e.k.j.)

we all do it;

when we're in pain,
we listen to that song,
that makes our hearts mend.

when we're broken,
we cry,
until there is no more tears.

when we have no other way to express ourselves,
we put a razor blade to a skin,
and pray it will go a little deeper than planned.

when we wanna feel the beautiful numbness,
we stab needles,
with love potion,
into our veins,
waiting to feel no more pain.

and when we're heartbroken,
we smoke a lot of menthol cigarettes,
because she only smoked Marlboro.

(e.k.j.)

you could stab me in the heart,
making me bleed,
and I would still be apologizing for bleeding,
on your white t-shirt.

(e.k.j.)

they all think I'm wearing,
a bulletproof west,
but can't you see,
I'm lying on the ground,
bleeding,
screaming,
and you are still shooting me?

(e.k.j.)

I'm that girl,
whom everybody seems to rely on.
They know they have me,
where they want,
because I'm a puppy.
They know I'm not letting,
their,
***** little secrets,
out.
They know the can count on me.

''It's our little secret,''
they say,
with a grin on their faces,
showing the attention seeker side,
of them.
They wanna be heard,
and listened to,
so they come to me.

But what about,
when,
I need to be heard,
and listened to?
Who can I tell my own,
little secrets to?

(e.k.j.)

It's like getting suffocated.
Hands around your neck,
squeezing harder,
and harder.
Yet it's not hands.
It's words.
Words you say.
Things you call me,
either straight to my face,
or behind my back.
Those are the words,
that suffocate.

(e.k.j.)