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I thought that saying goodbye,
would be the hardest thing to say to you.
And in a way it was,
but in another it wasn't.
It felt sad; it felt exhilarating.

I thought that love, all kinds,
meant giving you're all to someone.
But it doesn't, it means something more.
It means that you give them a piece
of yourself for them to cherish,
and they do the same.

But you can't give something away,
that doesn't exist.
I didn't understand at first,
but now I do.

I never loved myself,
I loved you.
I used to feel I would die
with joy from being around you.

And then I woke up one morning,
and I realized that I did die.


That the every miniscule piece of who I was,
had ceased to exist.
I realized that I was empty,
and always had been.

So instead of killing myself for your love,
I lived for my own.


And now I drive around,
listening to Tom Petty,
wearing red lipstick;
lips wrapped around the back half of a cigarette..

And I am so happy.

I feel free.
I feel like I can conquer anything,
because I escaped a painful death;
a death by you.

But then it was time to say "Hello again.."
and it was harder than goodbye.
It brang back the memories of sadness.
Of lonliness.
Of being afraid.

Then the moment passed...

*And I still feel free.
Sometimes I wish we would have met today instead.. I think we might have been better to each other.
  May 2021 niann smith
Sexual Pansexual
This a girl.

A broken, battered girl.
Held together by threads and glue, with wounds gauged into her heart.

This girl wakes up and sees a monster in the mirror,
with a grotesque face and heart as black as tar. Her eyes magnify every imperfection,
making them stand out like a single red rose among a dozen white ones. Still she puts on the smile that she is expected to wear. Fake it until you make it right? Stabbed in the back by her best friend.
The one person she thought would never give her up. The one she trusted and loved more than anyone. That’s what started it all.
A streak of deep set self-hatred. A girl who wishes that her weight was as low as her self-esteem. So down your drink broken girl, drown your sorrows with ***** and jack.
This is a girl.
With the word “Useless” carved into her arm.
Because that’s how she feels.
Useless. Ugly. Fat.
Because that was what she was told that was what she was. With every text that was sent to her she lost a little bit of her heart until all that was left was the space where it was supposed to beat.
Thump. Thump.
So she built walls around herself. Unbreakable walls filled with every word they ever called her.
She built them high and thick and made them of steel so no one could climb into her mind and see.
See what pain she was in.
See how she lived life behind a mask of fake laughs and smiles.  
So slice a little deeper broken girl, bleed the pain away because all those scars tell a story.

This is a girl.
Whose only escape is music.
The words engulf her.
Make her feel perfect even if just for about three minutes. Hitting her hard with a tsunami of emotions. Each word she clings to with all her strength so that maybe, one day they will be her reality.  A girl who loses herself in the crowd. The only time anything feels alright, when she doesn't have to hide or wish she was someone else. She sits alone and just listens. Listens to the ups and downs and analyzes the lyrics as they wrap around her and keep her warm. The only thing that can make it over her walls. So turn it up broken girl, and leave the pain behind.
This is a girl.
A girl who walks alone.
Because who would want to walk with a monster?
A girl who hates everything.
Especially herself.
Because that was what she was taught to do. Tongues as sharp as the razor she uses, eat at her brain. Like a flesh eating disease. Telling her how imperfect she is. And she listens. She soaks up the words and feels all of their fury. And what’s left becomes the salt in her tears. So walk on, broken girl, and don't you dare look back.
This a girl.
A girl who cries herself to sleep almost every night.
With a pillow covered in black stains from her eye make-up, as dark as the thoughts that drift through her head. Who is told not to end it because “It gets better.” That’s what they say anyway. The same people who, just a year earlier, caused her pain, who still cause her pain.
Their words haunt her.
They invade her dreams and turn them into nightmares that cut like a blade into her soul and into her heart. So take another pill and fall asleep, broken girl.
Leave this world behind, broken girl
Never wake up, Broken girl.
Because when you wake up your nightmares become
reality.
  May 2021 niann smith
Sexual Pansexual
Skinny.
I want to be skinny.
Skin and bones,
No awkward lumps,
No pudgy cheeks.
Just beauty.

Perfect.
How am supposed to be perfect?
With societies expectations.
No more pain,
No more sorrow.
Just serenity.

Loved.
I just want to be loved.
By someone who cares.
No more loneliness.
No more tears.
Just love.

Unattainable wanting.*
The only thing I feel.
Things I can never have.
  May 2021 niann smith
Sexual Pansexual
My skin seems so paper thin,
So easily it takes the blade.
Hidden so no one will ask,
Because the don't really care.
This world is a joke,
People fake concern so well.
No one gives a **** about anyone else,
the only look out for themselves.
I'm guilty of this conviction,
so narcissistic and rude.
But still hating every inch of this skin,

*paper thin
  May 2021 niann smith
Sexual Pansexual
It's hard to breathe.
Waiting for a white light but there is only darkness.
My head spins.
Maybe I took too much this time,
Maybe instead of dulling the pain I ended it.
Thank God I woke up.
I don't know if I'm ready to go.

*Not quite yet.
  May 2021 niann smith
Sexual Pansexual
I've been thinking about you again.
Thinking about your smile and the way you talked.
And all the little things you used to do.
But you've moved on,
And I'm glad honestly.
I want you to be happy,
I don't want you to try to chase me.
I have no right to be upset,
But I am.
And it hurts.
I have no right because I pushed you away.
I told you no.
I've turned into the person I've always hated,
A person who only wants what they can't have.
I do this everytime.
When will I stop being afraid?
When will I grow up?
When will I finally say yes?
I don't know,
But I've turned into

*a monster.
For my ex...
eyelids, as thin fold
of skin against the rain,
the consequence
the posibility
I shove this progress,
making space and making time.
I just want to lose
all this will energy just
so they admit me
to a hospital break
and I want to fake
everything. . .
God why can't you
make all this easy
for me?

and to my Mom
who seemed to
forgot what
living is supposed to
be,
you're dragging me
in the same ending,
I hope she knows.

and to my real Father
who never figured
things out,
I'm happy that
I got your ideals and
that you get me in my
current situation.

how many remaining days
are there before I lose
all this and become
a shadow
of what I used to be?
I wasn't great, never better
but around these days
I don't feel much
and as I am writing
this pitiful poem
I can feel the urge in my
hands to break something
in order to let
everyone know that something
is wrong but no,
people never know
I have been fooled of
this fantasy so many times
that it made me
burn bridges, including
long ones.

losing sleep,
restless I come at it again,
I'll force my way
all throughout the day,
earn the money
while I slowly turn
into stone,
losing myself
and drifting away,
****, I am drifting away. .

tomorrow
another blank slate,
thin fold of skin
against what tomorrow
brings
no rhymes
problems in the daylight
and mostly at night

only living
without being
truly alive,
I come as a poet
with problems at night.
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