i've never been anyone's
first anything

they've kissed before
touched before
loved before
hurt before

they live in before while i live in the now
i'm new to everything
i'm this lump of clay always forming while they're
their own statues

i'm drying out from all these tears
cracks are forming but not into beautiful shapes or patterns
just into memories and awful experiences,
self-doubt and loneliness

i am a lump of clay with no form just
sitting here waiting to be
touched by someone who's
never touched before

now wouldn't that be lovely

objectified
made into a noun
a lifeless thing
a vessel for lust and pleasure
that can't reciprocate

dying alone in a
face full of plaster
walls built up but so easily broken
due to desperation and maybe some guilt

striving for attention and someone to love
someone to feel anything other than
blood rushing or mouths watering

i just want to feel important

I look back to this path of
words and lines and
unfinished works and all I can see is
sadness and heartbreak

it's an odd revelation,
realizing all you've ever
felt strongly enough to write about
was love and pain

there's so many other feelings in the world
so many other stories
but the only ones I can tell
are the ones that have made me want to die in the end

if that isn't sad
I'm not sure what is.

a nagging blanket of
blame
tucks me into bed every
single night

dreading walking into
doors i've known for years
because life was better
back then

it's hard to pinpoint
the exact moment
when home became a house

but i think it's the day
i lost the ability
to know who i was
on my own

and that was a long time ago

it's this weird sense of
hatred
toward myself
that's started to eat at my
sense of enthusiasm lately.
it's as if everything i do is for
naught.
there's not even an identifiable cause -
it's just there.
this overwhelming consumption
of every smile i've ever smiled and this
mind-boggling urge to just melt away
to melt away to disappear to be devoured in any sort of
flame or destructive force so i don't have to see
the light of day so i don't have to
wake up again so i can just
have been so i can be a
would have been so i can just
be gone.

i hate it.

i did it again and
i'm sorry
i scratched at
the surface
so the pain
wouldnt hurt my insides
so much
im sorry
i
am just so tired of
being alone of being
neglected of being
rejected of being
abandoned
im so tired i just want
one person to stay for
a little while
just for
a little while
im so sorry i
cant help but watch
myself bleed as i
keep crying
i cant stop crying
i cant stop
im so tired
im so alone

A second choice is all I've
ever been to
just about
everyone.

My opinion
comes second,

my heart
comes second,

my presence
comes second,

I
come second.

And I'm tired of it.

I want to be top priority,
first choice,
preferred.

Though my expectations
would never soar so high.