You were a heartbreak.

Mothers in waiting rooms of the ER.
Fallen ice cream cones.

Didn't know whether to cradle you,
Or revolt.

No one will play you like I did,
Honey bee.
You're fine, but you used to be great.

I'm not internally screaming or anything,
If you were going to ask.
Just wandering around the void.
It's not a big adventure.

"Who's using who?
What should we do?
Well you can't be a ****
And a ******* too."

I'm not sure anymore.
But does it matter.
I'm a cat that curiosity has yet to ****.
And I need a new mouse to play my games.

The old one ran away.

Text me a ****.
Send me a song.
Tell me your newest theory on life.

It doesn't matter.

I guess it's hard to pity
Some drunk girl whose not very pretty.

You can't touch your toes
Or lick your nose.
But you're body still amazes me.

When I first met you,
You has this smile on your face.
And I swear to god
I couldn't make this up if I tried,
But if you looked at the ground
The way you looked at me,
I promise you
At least four dozen flowers
Would have sprouted right up from the ground.
You were that magical.

But three months in,
And a bottle and a half of *****,
You hit me so hard,
That you left bite marks in my mind,
And scars on my heart composed of your fingerprints.

All the flowers have died.

Children pinch there skin
And think that they are looking
At the dinner they finished six minutes ago.
And they hate themselves.
They hate there bodies for needing food.
They hate their parent's for feeding them.
They hate themselves
For their cute pink pinch able cheeks, and full bellies.
They hate everyone who's ever said
"Someone must have been hungry."

And they never grow out of it.

They skip more than just dessert,
They cut more than construction paper,
They ingest more pills than food.
They hate it. They hate it. They hate everything.
THEY HATE IT.
THEY HATE IT.
THEY HATE EVERYTHING.
They hate themselves.

You can't just come back from something like that.
They'll leave home one day,
And with no one telling them to eat,
They won't.
With no one to watch them,
They'll bleed dry.

You can't just come back from something like that.

I understand how you're always so uncomfortable.
You're a star
Trapped in this tiny frail little body.
I don't understand how you are not bursting at the seams.

I understand how you're always so sad.
You have an entire galaxy to get back to.
Gazillions of light years to explore,
And you're just stuck in this miniature bubble.

I understand how you're always so quiet.
If you opened your mouth
All of your light would come shining out and blind every.
You are very considerate for not doing so.

The water has risen just above my head.
By this time tomorrow, I should be dead.

Spring is coming,
And that means my cough gets bad,
And I need to take more medicine,
And my depression gets worse.
I know I have a mental breakdown coming,
But I have been putting it off
Because I simply don't have time.

I bought a tape measure,
And every day
Twice a day
I measure my stomach
My chest
My neck
My thighs
My arms
My waist
And my calves.
And I mark down the date, time and measurement.

I'm trying to stop the vomiting part,
But lately it has actually been working out quite nicely.
I'm going to work on it, though.
It's messy and gross and shameful.

I don't think I've ever heard my father
Tell my mother that she was beautiful.
I'm sure of it.
Never.
There wasn't any positive comments on her appearance.
"Fix yourself up a bit!"
"When are you going to lose some weight?"
"I don't like your hair that way."
When I was sixteen I wrote her a note for mother's day
Telling her that she was genuinely beautiful.
And she cried.

I can't think of any positive comments on my appearance
That either of them spoke to me,
That didn't revolve around losing weight.
And then was only when I was throwing up on a daily basis.
Pocketing lunch money,
And measuring out one cup of cheerios every day
That I eventually stopped eating,
And starting storing in gallon bags hidden under my bed.
"Are you losing weight, good for you?"
It wasn't even that I looked good.
Or that I looked beautiful.
Or even that I looked healthy.
Just good that there was becoming less of me.
And to keep at it.
And I'm sorry sometime I try to fight you when you say you like my stomach.
I was always told it was unsightly and needed to be smaller.

My little sister listens when they call her fat, that her *** is big, that she needs to lose weight.
Constantly.
Not other kids.
My parents.
She asked me why she didn't have a boyfriend.
She's 15.
She thinks she is fat and doesn't like the way she looks.
I try to corner her every once in a while
And tell her not to listen to our parents.
Tell her that she is beautiful.
That her hair is soft, and her eye brows are flawless, and her tummy is gorgeous.

There has to be someone there to do that for her.
Someone to counter the words of authority.
And tell her that she is gorgeous.
So she never has to meet Ana or Mia.
Because she was average to below average weight
When she was in preschool,
and I in elementary school,
And were put on weight watchers by our mother in the summers.
Maybe because she was never told that she was beautiful.
And it poisoned her.

Society is just bitter because they haven't found someone like you.
With perfect imperfections helping me see what truly can be good, can be free.
Looking into your eyes, like looking into the sea.
Pure and moving and clean.
Your hands feel like home, please take me home.
Hold me with your stare, won't walk away, you paralyze me.
Please touch me like you do, tell me I'm your moon.
And whether or not you see it you are the most meaningful thing I know.
You're tragically beautiful.
From your lips to your soul.
And if i could live to be a hundred and three,
I hope to live a bit less then you will be.
So that I never have to be one second with you

My fingertips
Carry
A heavy weight.

Collin has got me going crazy.
Who knew little ghost boys could be so difficult?
He wants pizza all the time.
He never wants to go to bed.
He never wants to leave my side.
If it weren't for that cute little ghost smile of his
I would be a complete and total wreck.
I'd be more firm,
But I'm a bit melted.
His cuteness melts my heart.
Oh baby boy.

I cant even feel one of my arms.
I think I hear a fan.
I'm not sure anymore.
About anything.
****.

Long Over a Decade
It's days like this where I listen to sad songs about fathers abandoning their children and kneel on the big chair by the window, and look outside like I'm seven years old.
I didn't like seven years old.
I hated the first day of it.
I cried all of April twenty-forth that year.
I knelt on the big chair by the front window and felt the wind that I could see the trees felt.
The swayed and shimmered as if they could hear the music too.
Why didn't I sway and shimmer when the wind hit me?
I only got cold and determined.
Seven was the last time I thought that thought until now.
It took me long over a decade to answer that question.
I wish it was something lyrical, majestic, and deep.
It's not.
It's just science.
Sometimes science is sadder than fathers abandoning their children.

I was supposed to unpack all this stuff a few days ago.
But all I can manage to do is sleep and drink
And connect the dots that your actions left on my thighs.
Why did you leave me all these tally marks, anyway?

Some days I binge
And somedays I starve.
And now I'm losing weight again.
But of course I'm not happy.
Ten more punds then maybe.
Twenty more pounds then maybe.
I never knew the taste of beauty
Was *****.

I don't have an idol.
I just idilize
The idea of
Being idolized.

I found your facebook,
And your ugly.
I feel betrayed
By the power of the selfie.
Everything is a lie.
Good bye.

Tell me
That I'm beautiful anyway.

Sometimes listening to the ceiling fan
Will get me calm enough to see
That the sun didn't set any faster today.
But there are bruises I get quite frequently
From words strangers whisper to each other
Halfway across the country.
Their names are engraved in my lungs,
Their names will never be mine to see.

Don't tell me that I am the one who crossed a line,
When you're hiding out here with your illegitimate baby and your lost mind.
I don't care how many times you pray
With your grandmother's broken rosary.
You ****** a many, you took his money, and you blew his brains out.
Your not even sorry, your apologies don't count.
Asking Jesus to die for you again
Because you have way too many sins.

I crossed a line.

You know how they say
That every once in a while
You should just get in your car
And drive somewhere?
It is supposed to fulfill you
And give you joy
And relieve all your worries.
Well I've tried that.
I've tried it about a hundred times.
But the farthest I've ever gotten,
Is out for a cup of coffee.

Before I have a chance
To realize where I ended up on my mystery drive,
My car is in your driveway and
We're lying in bed,
Watching movies,
While we eat pasta salad
And you explain how you love me and my eyes
In between my telling you about something funny I read the other day.
And you rub my back,
Or caress my breast
While I lay my head on your chest
And you listen intently.

I get plenty of fulfillment from that.