it's the morning but not really
and I hear a clock/watch/bomb ticking
but sometimes I stop hearing it
and it makes me wonder if I'm crazy but not really
and my eyelids burn like I've been putting salt in my mascara
and my head feels like there's 43 acres of cotton inside
but not really
and my eyebrows are so heavy
and I'm so cold
and my eyelashes sting so I know I'm alive
but not really

I gave you head for 36 minutes while you drove and when I asked if we could pull over so I could use a gas station restroom you called me selfish and said I could wait. There is a bruise down the left side of my ribcage from leaning over the armrest and I couldn't breathe for two minutes because we hit a pothole.
Good girls wait.
I couldn't wear a seatbelt on the high way because the strap wasn't long enough for me to be able to have my face in your lap. You said I'd be fine and I played your voice over and over in my head every-time you swerved because you had one hand on my neck instead of on the steering wheel. You got angry when I flinched at a passing stop sign and asked why I didn't trust you.
Good girls trust.
When we got to your moms house, you got out of the car and went inside before I even opened my door. You were naked when I walked in. You said "foreplay isn't my thing". I couldn't get my shirt off for five minutes because my fingers were shaking and the buttons were too small so you grabbed the kitchen scissors and cut it up the back. There's a scar along my spine now and you still run your fingers along it every-time I beg you not to. You tell me obedience is love.
Good girls obey.
You said you wanted to **** me in the bathtub so I bent over to turn on the water and you put yourself inside me. I cut my foot on your mothers shaving razor, and you told me you'd get me a bandaid after, told me to hold still so you could finish.
Good girls don't move.
We never made it into the bath because as soon as you were done, you yelled at me for getting blood on your mothers good towel and said I told you I was hurt but only in my head so of course you couldn't hear me. You came back with washcloth and a bandaid. Said I should watch where I step from now on.
Good girls are careful.
You walked me to your brothers room because he had a waterbed that you said you'd been dying to try and told me to put my face in the pillow and my *** in the air. Hands behind my back like a delinquent baby. The first hit came as such a shock my body jolted and you yelled something I couldn't really hear from under the pillow. Once my thighs looked like Tigers bellies and my neck was aching, you placed your corruption inside the only part of me you hadn't touched and when I started to scream you pushed my head back into the drool stained pillow and said to be quiet.
Good girls are quiet.
When you finally released inside, you threw my clothes to me and popped 3 Vicodin. You asked me if I wanted one, and I told you I wanted them all. You explained that that would **** me and I explained that I knew. You said you had to save them for your friends tonight, but you'd provide my noose once you got some more. When you dropped me off at my house, you grabbed my wrist before I got out of the car and said to give you a kiss. I said no, and you tightened your grip, told me to be good. I kissed you.
Good girls are good.

Good girls wait, and trust, and obey, and good girls don't move and good girls are careful and they are quiet and good, and good girls ..
good girls are good. But I am not.

Ninety-Three percent of the mass in our bodies is made of stardust.
The day i learned about this in third period science class, I texted you and relayed what I had understood. You replied four hours later with "that's still just dust".
2. The "Cold War" wasn't actually a physical war
We get in arguments because some days I'm cold and distant, and can't get off the bathroom floor. You tell me it's all in my head.
3. 'I am.' is the shortest complete sentence in the English language.
When I told you my favorite quote was "I think, therefore I am." by Descartes, you looked at me like I a *****, said I shouldn't try to be so poetic.
4. A snail can sleep for more than three years at a time.
I can't take naps anymore because when I lay my head down all I can hear is your voice saying "you sleep so much you might as well be dead".
5. The brain can’t create a new face. It only remembers faces you’ve seen somewhere before. This includes in your dreams.
Since I met you, I stopped dreaming in color. All of my fantasies are black and white. You say it's probably because I have "issues".
6. Two days after they die, ants give off an odor which other ants pick up on. They come pick up the ant and carry it to an ant graveyard.
I used to talk to you about my funeral plans, how I wanted to be made into a cherry blossom. You said you'd have me cremated.
7. The human body is made up of 70% water.
Jesus Christ, I am drowning.

it is 2:16 AM.
I am not awake because I am emptying my veins or medicine cabinets or tear ducts,
I am awake simply because I have not yet drifted into gray unconsciousness.
I will not fall asleep tonight on a salt soaked pillow-case and I will not wince every time my wrist rubs against the comforter.
I will fall asleep quickly, because I remembered to take my medicine, and I will stay asleep and dream of beautiful church buildings with stained glass windows and nativity porcelain and rooftop crucifixes I will not dream about jumping off.
When the bells ring, I will wake up and my mom will call me in for breakfast.
I will not be nervous.
I will not clasp my hands behind my back to hide my forearms.
I will eat eggs and toast and sausage and I will lick the grease from my fingers and it will taste good. It will not taste like calories. Like regret.
I will put my pants on and when they get stuck around my thighs I will groan and throw them out. I will not modify my body to fit into them.
My eyes will be bright and my veins intact and my shirt will be short sleeved and that will be alright.
I will be alright.

2:07 a.m
It is two o'clock in the morning, the wind is screaming against my windowpane, trees are scraping the outside of my bedroom walls, the ground is being soaked with whirling drops of water and I,
I am missing you.

2:09 a.m
The pattering of raindrops upon my rooftop falls in line with the rise and fall of my chest and makes me wonder if she is doing the same with you.

2:14 a.m
The storm has died down and it reminds me of you, and how after a fight you'd grab me by my sobbing face and just hold me till I was calm. I never thought I'd miss a storm.

Maybe I got greedy.
Maybe it's in my blood.
Maybe I'm a descendent of Icarus, the Greek son who flew too high.
All I know is that while my
ancestor was trying
to escape Crete, I've been trying
to escape myself
and baby you were my wings.
But I flew too high.
I should have noticed
the burning in my lungs,
the smoke suffocating my windpipe because I was getting too close
to your fire and with every
"I love you"
I could feel the wax
in my heart melting,
dripping down through my ribcage but when it finally fell to my feet,
I ignored the burn.
And here I am,
                         f
                          a
                            l
     ­                        l
                              i
                               n
                                 g

Waiting for you
to catch me.

Maybe the smoke
is in your eyes.

Maybe you're scared
of the flames.

Or maybe
                you can't handle
the
                                                  heat.

I. 

my head was starting to overflow
thoughts and memories 
spilling out onto the streets
 so I took an eraser to the etchings that littered the cave walls 
of my mind and now 
it’s a blank canvas 
and baby you are no longer 
my muse.

ll.

my shoulders were beginning 
to ache from years 
of carrying the weight 
of a lifetime of sadness 
so I scrubbed off the blue 
of your name and found only gray underneath 
and you can imagine my surprise when I learned 
there is something worse than pain. 
emptyness.

lll.

two arms are not nearly enough 
to bear the weight 
of hearing you tell me 
you don’t love me anymore 
so I planted the seeds of your words in my wrists 
and when they finally blossomed 
the terrain was too tattered to recognize the words that once ****** the life from my very veins 
like weeds 
and maybe that’s for the best.
llll.

when the bruises began to form 
in the places around my waist 
you once held onto so tightly 
like it meant the difference between life and death 
like my hips were the only handles left on Earth and you were afraid to fall in love, I realized bruised lips are not the same thing as tough love.

lllll.

my thighs shrunk everytime I
said no 
I’m not hungry, I already ate, I’m fine thanks,
 and the bigger the space between
 my thighs grew, the better I felt knowing I was making room for you
 without realizing 
until it was too late that the more area you occupied, the less I had to grow.

I’m wilting.

llllll.

my knees are shaking like
 the leaves were
 the day you told me you no longer wanted to try and love me
 so my calves are swaying and 
my toes are curling and these lines twisting around my thighs 
are begging 
to be 
opened .
lllllll.

my wrists are starting to overflow
nightmares and heartbreaks 
spilling out onto the streets 
so I took a razor to the etchings 
that littered the cave walls
of my arms and now 
it’s a ****** canvas 
and baby you are no longer 
my muse.