last night
dreams of neatly packaged anxiety
neatly parceled into my worst fears
planted themselves, grew their roots during my sleep.

i dreamt of irreparable scarring
a face no one could love
the pity of strangers
grief painted across my face in streaks of angry red
dry skin
red like your mother's old tea kettle
crackling like newsprint on a windy day

when you feel as if you are fighting a losing battle
with your own flesh
there is only so much war to be waged
face defeat.
skin will never be her flawless porcelain
will burn as deeply as your shame.
your teeth slightly crooked
sugarfree gum packed into a hesitant casing
leaning as if trying to escape the only mouth they will ever know

in an age of daylily smiles
women sculpted by their own reassurance
will you ever see my smile beyond all that i am not?

lackluster, with a sad smile
i wade into the deep ocean of self hatred
with my head anchored to my spine
in only the most casual of ways
lips curved into a hint of what could've been
a smile

as the water reaches my throat
i swear i could hear the click of her patent stilletos
against the sides of my ribs
as i try and recall
the way your calloused hands
brushed against my shoulder
released all of the world's winds
into the small of my back

i can't help but laugh
at the way mirrors seem to destroy me from the inside out
my brown eyes seem to condescend
at what i fail become
as i watch you fall in love
with all that she is
and all that i can never be

i drown.

i watch her lips move as she speaks
the symmetry of her face
stained glass eyes with cheeks of rose
a complexion as flawless as a fresh spring day
my heart is broken with every word she speaks.
for i feel my imperfections resounding more clearly in her beautiful frame
than i ever could in a mirror.
legs longer than any lie of self-love that i could ever spin
her waist narrow, molded into galaxies that boys will dream of grasping.


if she is spring, than i am the middle of february.
my skin is clear the way that the sky is green
my figure an ominous cloud of a long winter
lackluster, abrasive
daring those who look upon it to find themselves immediately disinterested

for i hold no fear for the oblivion of darkness
would march into the depths of the sea without glancing back
pretty girls are my sole fear
for i know that by the end of the day
you will look to her and, much like myself, not find a single flaw in her effortless effervescence,
and i will go by without so much as a passing glance.

1.) Start with the base of your ribs
feel the panic spread, eating away at all that you have built
tumbling over the rocky shores of your throat
feel the magma of self-hatred spread to your neck- fluid, disproportionate.
Feel it wash over the ground that you walk on, feel yourself
bite your lip
sharp pain
it's what you need to distract from the skeletons dancing in your closet.

2.) Watch him, and ignore the fact that he has never seen you as more than a transparent windowpane
Never noticed the landscapes within the confines of your rounded frame.
See his gaze follow her, and tell yourself
that your hopeful shadow will never be traced by his sparkling eyes
that he will never look to bask within your uncertain figure
will never see the soft glint of passion that fervently glows at the core of your spine.

3.) Dig your nails into your flesh and swallow back the tears. You didn't earn them.
Feel your skin grow red and angry
Feel yourself grow red and angry
Know that you are nothing, are nothing. Deserve to feel nothing.
To fall into infatuation with no sleight of hand
To have the floor drop below you at the sight of his face.
Not even a conversation, never even a conversation.
You are an amateur, playing a game that you never qualified to enter.

And he? He is the unassuming sun, stopping only to reach his illumination down into the cavity of your lightless eyes. Once, maybe twice. Maybe not.
He is the perpendicular street
Unexplored and full of complete and utter wonder
He is the manifestation of all that I wish him to be.
He will never be what I wish him to be.

4.) Go home. Write a poem. Go to sleep. Listen to music. Anything to stop the racing of the glow of your heart. Dream of a future. Without him, without this.
Keep Dreaming.

missed opportunities
spill from my lips
like forgotten tea roses on a lone winter's day
as i watch you leave without so much as glancing back
i remember that this neglect is brought upon by no one but myself
i dream of love like it's the last remaining shred of worth that i could ever gain
yet i wither away from your foreign gaze as if you could destroy me with just a glance
my open palms can not trace their way North
so they merely end up planted in my pockets with a downtrodden gaze
the unassuming warmth of your eyes, burns
as i avoid you as if one look towards your slender shadow
would render me irreparably broken

future is waning
slowly receding
depths of my mind try to conquer an untouchable future
something so vaguely assinine about dreaming of success
scatter the puzzle pieces of my diminishing heart
pray that they will find their way back together
i cannot even grasp what lies at my feet
how can i look to the heavens and try and fall in love with a reality that ceases to exist with my ever continuing heartbeat?