I’m ashamed to say I’ve become a bit of a thief;
A pickpocket of sorts.

It started out small.
A few roses from our neighbors’ garden, every now and then.
I knew it was wrong to take something that wasn’t mine,
But I fell in love with the way your eyes lit up
when I held out those little bits of stolen life, stolen joy.

It soon escalated after that.
I saw the way you gazed lovingly up at the moon,
and I became determined to make it yours.
Unfortunately, no matter how hard I tried,
The moon remained unattainable.
(There is only one, after all.)
I figured I’d aim for the next best thing, so
I hope you like the stars I stole for you.

for a moment i couldn’t remember your last name.
for a moment it started with a different letter,
was spoken in a different tongue.
for a moment i had forgotten it — that is, if i ever knew it at all.

you used to be so clear to me.
you were, at a time, tangible —
so much more than a memory.
i loved you then and i could say that i love you now but
you cannot love a memory.
not in the same way, no.
you cannot talk to a memory,
nor laugh with a memory,
nor live with a memory.

and so i keep you
frozen in time,
a fragment of the past.

like ashes in an urn i put you on the shelf,
never to be disturbed,
only to be put on display.
i thought you’d be safe there.
i thought that the ashes in an urn don’t disappear because
what more can ash crumble down to?

but today,
for just a moment,
i couldn’t remember your last name.
today,
for just a moment,
you slipped away.

and now i wonder if i ever had you at all.

(a.m.)

sometimes,
often times,
i am cold.
there is snow within me and wild winds outside my door,
and i watch from the window while my crops wither.

i silence the sun.

he stands at my gate with nimble fingers and begs to be let in,
but i have always been a grove of shadows,
and he knows there is no space for him.

sometimes,
often times,
i am cold.

but other times,
spring finds me.
it lifts me up into its gentle arms and suddenly i am a field of clovers,
lucky,
rising up.
suddenly i am baby’s breath, i am pure,
i am a blooming hyacinth.

i am warm.

i know what a change in season feels like.

and i try to be loving.
but on the days when i have gotten up
and planted my seeds,
you are still tangled in thick black weeds and roots.
on the days when i am a rose,
you are the thorns,
and on the days when i grant the sun a chance to speak,
you take his tongue.

i know your pain; i have lived it.
but i will not give up my songbirds just because you are only left with crows.

i know what a change in season feels like,
but you are always winter.
and sometimes, i am spring.

so i will flourish.
and i am sorry.

(a.m.)

"I'm a sad girl/I'm a bad girl//"

I'm a sad girl
but I've gotten better at controlling it.

now I only let myself get sad once Loneliness knocks on my door and invites itself in. it tends to do so past midnight, but it does enjoy keeping me on my toes. sometimes, it'll creep up on me while I'm in the car, and a song comes on the radio that reminds me of you.

I'm a bad girl
but only occasionally.

I'd like to think that I'm a total badass that can pull off the whole "I don't give a ****" attitude. but I can't.
so when you try to picture me as I tell you I'm a bad girl, don't picture me as a mysterious teenager with a taste for wild adventures.
picture me instead as the girl that lashes out at people, and is known for being a bit of a *****.

———

I'm a sad girl
and most of the time, it's because of you.

which, I suppose, might amuse you, because you do enjoy the thought that everything is about you.
but it isn't, really. not anymore.
of course, I think of you, from time to time. but I know I never cross your mind, and I don't think I ever did.
and somehow the thought of that was enough to help me make peace with what happened. I'm okay now,with letting you go. Loneliness has found other people to entertain, as have I.

I'm a bad girl
but not really.

I'm much too vulnerable for that. but I've learned that there is strength to be found in that—in weakness.
I wanted to be invincible, and who can blame me, really? isn't it every teenager's dream to be on top of the world?
but being undefeatable and creating distance between anyone that tries to get you to open up are not the same thing.

and if I had to choose, I'd rather be sad.
at least then, I know that while I'd have crazy mood swings and bursts of darkness, I'd be in full control of my feelings.
and one day, I'll be okay.

you need to live for the little moments.
for dancing in your kitchen all by yourself.
for spinning around in the rain.
for the random bursts of inspiration.
for little adventures in the city, for exploring
and getting lost but
enjoying every minute of it.
for body-positive days, when you decide
that you feel like rocking that almost-too-short dress
and those glittery heels and eyeshadow and that dark red lipstick.
for baking at 2 in the morning.
for having movie marathons, complete
with popcorn and lots of chocolate.
//
for that feeling you get when you discover a new book
that you fall instantly in love with.
for that feeling you get when you stumble across
something you accepted was lost.
for the feeling you get when you can finally play that song
that you've been practicing for hours and hours and
it sounds amazing.
//
for all the times that you'll laugh so hard
you can hardly breathe.
and all the days that you'll spend in that one coffeeshop,
surrounded by people that make you feel okay.
for being able to see the bands that you listen to constantly
live in concert, and your voice getting lost in the crowd
as you all sing along to the song that has kept you
from falling apart time and time again.

you have so much to live for.
but most importantly, you have to live
for yourself.

my sadness is asking to use the bathroom during class just so I can lock myself up in one of the stalls and break down completely without worrying about people watching me. my sadness is trying trying trying to write but my hands are shaking too much to do anything but bury my head in them. my sadness is typing up messages to friends about what a ****** day it's been, but deleting the whole thing just as I'm about to send it, because no one deserves to be burdened by my problems— this is my struggle and mine alone; and I need to be able to deal with it. my sadness is not being in control of my own thoughts; not knowing how make the screaming voices stop. my sadness is absorbing the pain from people around me and sometimes letting it get to me.
--
my sadness isn't rainy days and a few "sad songs". my sadness isn't "she drank the whole bottle but your name still burns at the back of her throat". my sadness isn't me spending time in children's playgrounds, surrounded by people with thoughts darker than mine ever could be, and a taste for drugs and danger. my sadness isn't "she smokes now, but her mind is still as hazy as the day you left". my sadness isn't flowers in my hair or anything that can be encapsulated in a tumblr photo or quote. my sadness isn't beautiful, nor poetic.
--
it's just sad.

and isn't it strange?
we all have so many emotions
and later on we don't even remember why we felt a specific way
just that it hurt.