I'm tired of writing about a boy who doesn't even remember he loved me

I don't think of dying as leaving
more like stepping out for a cigarette
and forgetting to step back in
because I'm still out here
just beyond your blurry eyes
look at me sideways and I shine like a star
but look at me head on and I whither
under your disapproving gaze
please stop looking right through me
I'm afraid of what you may see
when you look beneath the surface
because I'm all jagged edges and ripped pants
scars with the same story
over and over again
ver the course of four years
don't look at me head on
please stop it
I'm just stepping out for a smoke
even though I don't plan on dying of cancer
and this cancer stick will stay unlit
please don't worry about me
I'll be okay
just not today
but maybe in a few years
you're looking through me
and I'm afraid of what you'll see
when I lay my weapons down
collapse into your arms
and cry out all the tears that have been
building up over all these years
I'm afraid of what's inside my head
I don't make my parents proud anymore
I killed their little girl and gave them a stubborn boy
in her place
I hate the girl I used to be
I don't know how to love myself anymore
but maybe if I bare my scars to you
you could try to help me put myself back together again
I know it's too much to ask
so I'll just step outside
you won't see me anymore
unless you look at me sideways
then I will burn like the brightest star for you
I love you

4/19/2015
dedicated to the girl I used to be

crushed right next to the
broken glass.
"I don't write
nearly as much poetry
as I used to,"
I tell her in the orange light
of the German café
this time it is shining in through.

"Like you used to
before you were sedated?"
No.
I suppose it must be the weather.

I remember dancing to morrissey
in my darkened room at 3:43 am
on a January tuesday,

it was a good lay, good lay,good lay
Like some sort of charicature of teenage one dimensionality

I remember picking up a half empty
Heineken at a dorm room right before
winter finals like some sort of charcature of teenage pretentiousness and

putting my tights on, "my mom thinks I'm shopping, cute, right?"
Old floor crushing my shins minute before like some sort of charcature of teenage indulgences

"Don't you sort of miss the cold?"
I ask, picking at the cake and
the girl I used to be this time last year
infinitely more innocent weeps at

confrontation

i told colton, a strange look of terror residing in my eyes, that i would break it off.
i told madison, a strange calm in my thumbs, that i would break it off.
you walked into the uniform room.
i didn't even wear my socks, i was so late. i had to run to my locker to get my shoes. should've brought em sooner you said, pulling your bibbers on.
i could feel the words climbing out of my throat, hey, we need to talk i almost said.
but like i did when i was seven and with stomach flu, i shut my mouth so the inevitable flow would stay contained.
i go searching through the guard closet for shoes, my back to you.
god, how am i supposed to get this on? you asked, and i watched you struggle to get the jacket zipped. this little look of admiration washed over my face.
I walked over to you and zipped you up, laughing with you. god, i could have and should have broken it off with you right then. i also could have and should have kissed you.
you zipped me up too, and we buckled each others top buckles.

-
i could have ended it, and i wish i would have.

if i can't look you in the eye

i barely have the courage to look in the mirror

Even through all the anger
and disappointment,
I still can’t help but get distracted
by the sound of your voice
as the noise
burns through my thighs,
making my mind race
to that night
where all we heard
were breaths
and hearts
pounding.