As you cried on my shoulder,
it watered the flowers that you planted in my chest.

Miles* apart
          Waiting
                     Always  *waiting
                               Missing your touch
                                         Weeks without seeing you
                                                      **God, I miss you so much

And I can't sleep at night anymore because I swear to god the sheets still smell like you even though I bought new ones last week.
My mind is burns with the memory of your eyes when you used to look at me, and say you loved me.
Your smile was so lovely, just like those lies you told me when we would lay in the darkness.

Feminism is around today because men think saying "all men"
is worse than telling a women to "get back in the kitchen"
Because some men still treat women like objects
Because a woman can't dress how she wants
Without a man seeing it as an invitation
Because women are still told they must have been asking for it
Because women who have *** are *****
But guys who have *** are praised
Because men still think feminism is about superiority
Instead of equal rights
Because men think being a feminist is bad
But they start a trend of meninist
Because we are still writing articles and poems, and short films
about females having the same rights as men

Your lips pressed softly to mine,
and I swear to god the world stopped.
My heart beat faster,
and my mind went blank.

Months later,
Your hands traced the curve of my back,
and it caused shivers up my spine.
My heart skipped a beat,
and my mind was flooded with thoughts of you.

You held my hand everywhere we went,
and I knew that I was in love.
My heart swelled with happiness,
and my mind couldn't focus on anything but you.

You held me when we watched films,
and I began to crave your arms around me.
My heart longed for you,
and my mind thought of nothing but being in your arms.

You have my heart in your hands,
and have taken over my mind.

Three years to build,
Less than three hours to sink.
A grand ship,
With a haunting history.
More than 2,400 people sailed away,
Yet less than 800 survived.
A ship that could not sink,
Did.

I used to admire Van Gogh for how lovely he could make simple sunflowers look,
But then I saw you,
and I wonder how jealous Van Gogh would be of your beauty.

Is it part of my past if I can't quite get rid of it?
past
adj.
gone in time and no longer existing
So maybe all of the things that I thought were done with,
are part of my present,
present
noun.
the period of time now occurring.
Still able to show up at any moment and remind me that it never truly left;
only decided to give me a break for a while.
Maybe I am pitted against myself in the most dangerous way possible.
Taking myself to the breaking point,
but never going past it, because it's always funner the longer it goes on.
When will the low hit? Will the low hit?
Is it more fun to watch myself panic during the night wondering how things will fall apart, always walking on broken glass because even a small cut in the fabric would mean being torn to shreds. The ends being pulled until I am finally undone. Until I am finally done.

Lucy was in the sky,
eyes shining like diamonds.
She knew she could never die.

Her hair melted in with the tree's roots
The blues mixed with the greens,
and she was wanted by every teen.

Best friends with Alice,
Too beautiful to be ignored,
was forever filled with a silent malice.

Lucy made us all feel endless,
Colors looked better
Everything left us breathless

Lucy and Alice always together
Life is so much sweeter
Now that we're all light as a feather

Trigger warning:



I thought there was love in your eyes
When all that was there was lust.

I thought you wanted to hold my hand,
But all you wanted was in my pants.

You mistook my "No"s for moans,
Regardless that there was tears in my eyes.

You left me alone after,
And I haven't seen you since it happened.

Left by the roadside to rot,
Dirt in my knotted hair.

I still can't walk at night without fear,
And I haven't felt alive since the day you killed what was inside.

I am used to shutting everyone out,
Hiding away so I feel safe.
Hurt too many times to be foolish,
and think it's okay to trust people.
Yet, I trusted you from day one.
I let myself open up to you,
in ways I have never done before.
I was scared at first of loving you,
Scared to death of falling for you.
But while trying not to fall for you,
I fell harder than I ever thought I could,
And you fell for me as well.
I will never regret letting you in,
I will never regret falling in love with you
Just,
Please don't go.

I constantly always heard the cliche saying that nothing lasts forever and eventually all things come to an end. For so long I never cared and in the past I didn’t care about anything that happened to or around me, I was simply living like a bystander and I was nothing more than a pair of eyes watching things come and go. Even when my grandmother died, I was always told that “everybody dies in the end” and that made me wonder why all of this matters. Why do we try so hard when in the grand scheme of things, we’re all going to end up just a memory to those we left our mark on, and even memories fade. I asked myself this question for quite a long time and even now I think about it, an answer that I have yet to fully give myself. It took a long time before I realized that the point is to leave those marks. I read a book about a year ago that made me come to this realization and start to appreciate the fact that while I am alive, I should focus on living instead of dying. The book made me understand that we all leave a mark on this world and some people spend years trying to find what they really want. I don't want to just be content. I don’t have my memories rush back to me as I still fear dying . I don’t want realized I never actually lived.  Filled with every mistake and missed opportunity. I don’t want to regret not following my dreams because the fear of death murdered me before I was even old enough to drive.

I am about to have a mental break down,
and despite what you think,
this is not poetic.
Yet, I will sit here,
writing a poem in hopes that it'll stop it from coming.

My heart is racing and my hands feel ice cold.
I can barely see the keyboard as I start to cry,
My entire body shaking like a hurricane trying to hold back gushing tears.

God, my hands feel numb,
and I can't catch my breath,

Why did you do this?
Why did you cheat on me like I meant nothing?
Why were your 'I love you's all lies?
Why was I not enough

I'm sorry
I'm sorry
I'm sor

I fell for you, & you were there to catch me

Only one type of ****** is illegal to show,
and wearing a skirt is an excuse for ****.
Having two X chromosomes somehow makes my life less important
than someone with an X and Y.
I am taught how to use makeup,
and told it is to attract men.
I am showed how to shave my legs,
and told that having underarm stubble makes me less of a women.
I am told that supporting feminism,
means I hate men when all I want is to be equal to them.

I walk the halls and glance at everyone I see,
The girls who are hurrying to the bathroom to fix their makeup,
And the boys who check them out as they walk by.

Is there anyone else here who can't go to the bathroom, because I swear to God just the thought of it gives me a small panic attack.
Is there anyone else here who looks down and is disappointed everyday because I am small, chesty and my face is far too round.

I never check out the girls, nor do I run to the bathroom to fix myself,
I walk and look at how much I wish I was one of the guys,
Flat chested, tall, lean and not having to wake up 5 extra minutes to put on a binder.
Never hating that their voice along with their round face will have others calling them "She" for their whole life.

Never will they come home with aching ribs,
and feel the stab of being misgendered.
Never will they be told "but you still look like a girl,"
Even though you are trying so hard that you feel your mind wearing thin.
Why can't I just be what they want me to be?

Trigger Warning:

I want to scrub my skin red and raw so I forget how it looked with the bruises you left on it.
I thought your eyes were lit with love for me,
but it was only lit with lust for my body.
When I said "No",
You heard "Yes"
You covered my mouth to mask my fears
and whispered "You want it" in my ear.

Three years later,
I walked around at night alone,
crossing city streets without looking for cars.
I ate less and smoked more,
Hoping someday the cigarettes would **** me.
Because I was already dead inside.

And just typing this my stomach is in knots,
Just like my hair was the day you left me by the road side.
And my hands are shaking,
Just like my legs where as I tried to walk back home that day.

I still flinch when a guy raises his hand around me,
and cringe when some guy makes a **** joke in class.
I still can't wear shorts without remembering how you got dirt on the ones I wore that day.

My eyes are sore,
and I wish I could have done more.
                My body feels numb,
                And I wish the tears would just come.
                                       My life is in a constant whirl,
                                      And I wish I could have given you the world.
                                                        Every second my heart breaks,
                                                       And I wish my mind wouldn't ache.
                                    I haven't gotten more then three hours of sleep in two weeks,
                                   And I wish I could sleep instead of wiping tears off my cheeks.

You will be the "he" in all my writings,
& I'll spend days comparing you to things in nature.

& spend hours trying to figure out exactly what shade of brown your eyes are.
I'll wake up thinking if your morning was bright, just like your smile.
   Falling
          Falling
                  Falling
How is it that you're in every love song I hear?
& Every novel, poem and movie

You can make the sun seem sunnier,
Colors seem brighter

Being with you is like living in a constant state of euphoria,
and without you is endless.

I remember the moment I fell in love with you
& the moment that I knew you were the one.
            Thank you for letting me be the one too.

Yesterday morning I remembered the comfort of hunger pains.
I ate as little as possible at lunch,
and didn't eat when I got home.

For the first time in almost a year,
I skipped dinner
and looked at photos of bodies I wanted to have.

For so long I was able to eat without worry,
and I never thought about skipping meals,
I was able to change the idea of a "weight goal"
To simply having a goal to be happy.

What is happening to me?

I always thought I had a horrific way with words, but put a pen in my hand and I'll write feelings I bottled up since a child.
I can't tell you why I love you with spoken words, but I have written endless late night poems just about how much I love your eyes.
I can't focus on repetitive work that is done in a math class for 30 minutes, but I'd sign up for a 3 hour English class in a heart beat.
I don't think all writers are sad, and always have some deeper meaning to everything they say, some are metaphoric, and some like to be blunt.
I, myself tend to use metaphors rather than being blunt because they sound so much better in my opinion.
I think everything sounds more meaning full in a stanza rather than a paragraph, and a book sometimes means more than a movie.
I guess I'm just a writer.

And the times when I have to let go of your hand,
when I have to say goodbye
are the hardest.

I am so tired of having to walk to my house,
not knowing if I'll see in again
in one month or two.

I just want to fast forward to when goodbyes aren't a thing.
I want to fall asleep in your arms
and wake up in them.

I hate the way my heart sinks,
as I watch your car drive away
time after time.

I just want to lay in your arms

So many times I tried to convince myself you actually might have cared and you didn't just use me and throw me out like worthless trash. For so long I was fooled by those beautiful **** blue eyes that used to make me smile but now makes my heart ache and my head hurt and my mind yell at me for being so foolish. I asked myself so many times how you can go from saying that you needed me, needed me or else you’d fall apart, to forgetting my name, acting as if it never slipped passed your lips, forgetting that I was the first person who stayed up with you late and night and went out of my way to wipe away your tears...were those tears even **** real or where they a way of getting me to actually believe you cared. Those late nights I stayed up worrying whether or not you were okay. God, I lost so much sleep wondering about you.
I tell others who ask that I hate you and that I don’t care that you’re gone from my life, but there are nights I look down and remember how nice to was to have someone who was always, always there. How I felt special that you chose me to be the person that you’d tell all your secrets too and the first person you’d come to when you needed advice.
But now you go on with your life without even spending one second thinking about me. You go on day after day without having me cross your mind while it's been seven months since we talked and just last night I was up till 2AM on a Sunday night thinking about you and wanting to rip out my own beating heart for caring about you for so long after you long since forgot I even exist.
I tell myself daily that I hate you more than anyone, but I know that I'd forgive you in a heartbeat.

When I was 4 years old,
I remember sitting on my grandparent's front porch waiting for you.
"I'll pick her up at noon" my father would say,
But I'd wait and wait all day.
Every time, he was a no show.

But old habits die hard,
and over the years I attached myself to those who left me and let me down.

14 years later,
I am now 18 and haven't seen my father since.
"Never will I feel that way again"

I am in love with someone who was there for me,
The distance made it hard,
But we were experts at making it work.
Visits every month were the thing we lived off.

We live together now,
and his video games have spent more time with him than I.
The most time we spend together are when we sleep,
And I've finished all 4 seasons of The Walking Dead this week,
Sitting in our room waiting for you.

"Never again" I said,
and I guess I am the one who lets myself down.
Falling in love with a person who loves games more than me.
But what can I do when I love him more than me?

I hate that the only time I hear your voice,
it's through a phone or in my memory. I hate dreaming about sleeping in your arms
instead of actually doing it. I hate hearing people say long distance doesn't last
because it's been months and I pray to whatever God there is that this will last. I hate waiting weeks on end to see you and it only be for a handful of hours. I hate going to the places we've been and imagining seeing you there, sitting in the spot we first kissed.
I hate that I break down at night because I miss you.
*I really, really miss you.

And at night I can't stop myself from thinking back to when I didn't have a panic attack nearly every night.
To when I honestly believed that my future was bright
To when I didn't count calories and wish I was just skin and bone
To when I didn't have shaky hands and my palms didn't get sweaty by simply walking into a classroom alone.

But now at night I lay on my bed
Trying to escape the things in my head

The sun did come up that day,
and the flowers grew back.
The wind still blew,
and life when on.
Even if it was without you.

I wanted long , thin legs
A skinny waist
And collar bones that stick out.
I wanted to be pretty.

But what I didn't want
Was the price.
Skippy meals,
Using constant excuses.

I wanted to be perfect
But instead,
I was lifeless
and years later I still pay.

I soon reached my goal,
But was the price I paid worth it?

You said you loved me,
While you told her you lusted her.

I was "the only one" for you,
While she was "the most important girl".

The promise to marry me,
But the promise to last longer in bed with her

You watched as I read every word,
Saw all the reveling photos,
The same photos you sent me.

You watched as I broke down,
As I begged for the truth,
As I begged for you to not hurt me again.

Please, don't make me regret a second chance.

I'm not good enough
    But you made me start to believe I was.
I'm not thin enough
    But you gave me the strength to eat again.

I love you
    But you didn't love me enough to stay away from her.
I wish I was at your house
    But you hardly said that to me.

I want to marry you*
    But you told her you wanted to **** her.

The most beautiful day I have ever known is not the day we first kissed,
Nor the day you first said that you loved me.
It was the day that you said three different words.
That night in your old bedroom when you told me I was the one.
I had never known what it was like to be so happy that I'd cry,
Until that day.

I will not compare thee to a summer's day,
but I'll compare the day to you
Every night without you I'll shiver because no amount of warmth will compare to feeling of having you lay down next to me.

You're the "he" in all of the writings,
and the reason why I write at all these days.
You're in every song I hear
and every movie I see.
You're the one who keeps me up till 1 a.m in the middle of the week because I was thinking of writing this very poem for you.
You're the reason why I finally understand why I never died when I attempted suicide,
and I'll keep you in mind every time I am able to eat without worrying about the calorie count.
You're the reason why I know why people cry from happiness,
You're the only reason why I can picture a future for myself, and that future is with you.
I'll stare into you're eyes for hours,  comparing them to the coffee I drink every morning,
and wake every morning waiting till the day you are there.
I'll lay in your arms and dream of the day when goodbye's won't last for months at a time.
When my home is your home as well,
and when all the distance is nonexistent.
To when I can see your smile in more than just a picture,
To when goodnight kisses turn into good morning kisses.
To when you can hold me at night if I start having panic attacks again,
and to when you can remind me to eat dinner when I forget.

They say that if a writer falls in love with you, you can never die.
Yet I feel it is the same for writers themselves.
Falling in love can be the inspiration behind works of art.
Your love is the very reason why I breathe,
and the motivation behind every stroke of my paint brush,
and every word I type or write.

I hate the fact that I can come up with stories for people who never lived,
Or a poem about things that happened when I was a kid,
But I can't figure out how to remember the quadratic equation,
And nothing good comes out of my power of persuasion.

I have no idea what comes out of having a creative mind,
But not being able to do complicated math in record time.

I hate that I would rather spend hours coming up with a metaphor to describe the panic I feel,
Than learn things that are supposed to help me make enough money to pay for even one daily meal.

I spent more time trying to write this,
Than I ever would trying to understand functions and statistics.

But writing ****** poetry isn't going to help me,
When I don't even have the slightest idea what I want to be.

They keep saying that it'll be alright,
that I should be happy to be in love.

That distance doesn't matter,
Because love doesn't know miles.

That the loneliness and aching for you will go way,
but when?

And here I am.
laying in an empty bed,
craving for a warmth
a heater couldn't give.

And here I am sitting in English class
trying to listen to a book being read,
but all I can think of is our story,
the life I built for us in my mind

the only love I've ever known
is 287 miles away from me
and all I can do is miss you
and hope that one day soon
I will get to say, "I'm home."

I hide everything away and have the appearance of not caring about a lot of things,
yet I stay up all night and wonder what is wrong with me as I  rip apart every second of my past, remembering that I don’t know the last time I was happy, and I destroy myself in the process of thinking.
I stare blankly everyday in a crowded classroom tucked into the back seat, listening to music because the silence causes me to panic and stress myself out over the future because how can I know what I want to do if sometimes my only thought is when I’ll die and yet while I don’t believe in a Heaven and sometimes feel as if I’m already in Hell, I am scared of what will happen after I die because what if Heaven is real and those thousands of times I lied and said I was okay when I was so depressed I felt like my chest was caving in and I couldn’t even tell if I was breathing or said I wasn’t hungry as I tried to steady myself from passing out because I haven’t had so much as an apple since last week, all add up and I end up going to some place worse than here?
And recently I’ve convinced myself that feeling absolutely nothing is better than feeling anything at all. I don’t know if I’m better, worse, or settling for middle ground as I wait until the end of the line. Some nights I’ll allow myself to feel and I’ll panic because I’ve lost so much and so many people just use me, and it is so heart breaking to constantly be the person everyone uses. I feel like an old cigarette that is used to temporarily calm someone down, but they aren’t even a smoker and I wasn’t an addiction, just a phase. Yet,  I was their 4 a.m and sometimes 4p.m and what they didn’t know was I am a smoker and I was so addicted; I never intended to stop. I was ready to die from corroded, blackened lungs. Now I stay up till way past 4a.m going through the physical pain that comes along with withdrawal and the ache in my head is nothing compared to the ache in my chest that has me so broken down I couldn’t even stand up if I tried and I cry so hard it makes the pain in my head worse and some nights I worry that my head will explode.
The next day I go to school and I’m numb, I don’t feel anything for days, sometimes weeks, until one of those nights happens again. I’ve found comfort in feeling nothing and I’ve mastered the art of shutting everyone out and no one takes the time to take a second glance.
Maybe I don’t want them to ask questions, or maybe being used so much has made me completely horrified to even let someone know my name, let alone anything.
I don’t want to feel anything with anyone because I become so addicted to the euphoric high I get when I think someone cares just for them to treat me like a cigarette once again, as they throw me away without even thinking about it, stepping on me to make sure that my light is completely gone.
I’ve decided that feeling nothing at all is the place I am most comfortable, replying on the few people that make me happy. And even though I don’t believe in a god,  I pray every night they won’t throw me away like everyone else because no matter how good I am at fooling everyone else, I can’t keep lying to myself and no matter how good I am at feeling nothing, some nights I feel every little thing and I need someone to keep me sane because at 2a.m on a Tuesday night I drive myself to the point of insanity and if I didn’t have someone to hold me up, I’d drown myself and I don’t know if I’d be able to come back up for air on my own.

Flowers are picked

Buttons are clicked

Strings are twisted

Names are listed

Leaves are falling

People are calling

It's 1:24 am on a Tuesday, and I haven't stopped smiling. Even 287 miles away,
You make me happier than anything ever has. And I know that love has no distance,
because it's been almost a month since the last time I saw you and I have stayed up every night thinking about you and I swear to god everyday I find one more little thing I love about you and I fall more in love with you.
I am laying here thinking about all the ways to tell you I love you and all the ways I can show you. I'm thinking about our first kiss and the first time I realized I was in love with you. I'm thinking of the first time I got to sleep in your arms and all the times you made me so happy I cried. I love you so much and this is so hard because I see my friends with the people they love and all I can do is send you a text saying I love you but I won't even say I miss you because I am scared you'll think I am not okay with waiting and if I lost you now, I'd be so ruined. But I miss you so much and it is so hard to wait but it'd be so much harder if I just never saw you again. If all these memories turned into bitter ones and if I had to go from thinking your name and smiling to trying to drown you from my mind with whatever worked, I wouldn't be able to smile anymore. All those cheesy love songs that make me think about you or those ****** love poems I wrote about you would just make me hate myself because I lost the only person who was able to make me happy. I never thought I could miss someone this much, and oh my god, it hurts so bad and sometimes I can't sleep at night because my bed feels so empty and cold without you here to hold me in it, but I'd never give this up. I'd wait another month, hell I'd wait a year if I had to because I swear to god that you're the one and I'd have to be an idiot to give someone as amazing as you up.

*** when you're in love is amazing, you can have awkward moments but not care and just laugh it off.
You are comfortable enough to ask for certain things, positions and do what you know the other likes.
But when that *** is expected from you, everyday, and there is no time to think "I want to have ***"
All you think is "I love him and if I don't **** him, he'll leave"
You lose that spark.
The way your heart use to race at his breath on your neck or his hand moving to lift your shirt off, just evaporates
*** turns into a chore that you have to do daily, like doing the dishes or going to work
It's not longer something that you desire but something you just know has to happen at some point that day.
Love exists without ***, and *** can exist without love.
But to keep that love, there shouldn't be the need for ***.
Don't tell them "it's *** with you, or I find it with someone else"
*** isn't a chore, and it isn't the key to love.

You planted a garden in my heart,
And the flowers grow with your love.
Please don't leave then to wilt,
While leaving me to die.

Music was my way to drown out what I would feel,
trying to deny that it was real.
My skin would suffer from what I would do to myself
I couldn't take my mind off the silver object hidden on my shelf.

The silence of my bedroom
ultimately crated violence.
The things that left me horrified,
I saw constantly glorified.

While the most beautiful things can be birthed from pain,
The pain was not what was to be desired, the constant drain.
No one should ever think that the fear of gain makes you strong,
It should not be the subject in a song.

Blood stained wrists are not romantic,
It is caused by pain overly titanic.
Don't try to relate self horror,
With being an explorer.
                                                    Beauty is Beautiful,
                                                        Pain is Painful.

"There's no such thing as a painless lesson-they just don't exist. Sacrifices are necessary. You can't gain anything without losing something first. Although if you can endure that pain and walk away from it, you'll find that you now have a heart strong enough to overcome any obstacle. Yeah... a heart made Fullmetal."

I have lung made of paper bags
                                                            ­                      and a spine made of glass.
I spend my life walking on thin ice,
                                                            ­                 knowing that if I slip I will break.
I can't walk with great posture,
                                                        ­                because the weight on my shoulders.
My mind is full of cliche metaphors
                                                       ­                 and clouded with the stress of living.
The more I panic and my breathing increases,
                                                   the­ more my paper bags start to strain and crinkle.
The more I walk around with the weight I try to carry,
                                                          ­       the risk of shattering my glass spine rises.
My eyes are closed,
                                                 and my hands are ***** from trying to dig myself up.
To stop my lungs from straining,
                                                                    I stop myself from breathing.
To lessen the risk of my spine breaking,
                                                               I lay in bed and never move around.