I wanted to puke my heart out to you
And I wanted to stop daydreaming about you
But now you're just a significant part of the past -
A past that I am so willing to forget.
Now all I want is to set fire to the memories
And lock the remains in the basement of my thoughts.
I used to believe that you were my world,
The controller of everything that involved me,
But you disappeared
And I can't say the same anymore.
You left with no trace,
No  tracks to follow you back home;
Not even a goodbye.
Forced to clean up the mess you left behind,
I was able to wipe the remnants of my tears
With the remains of the memories
But they're gone now, too

She was taught from a young age that beauty was having pale skin and a bright smile,
But she wasn’t trained to see that beauty itself was somewhere in the writings of a fragile, broken heart.
She was raised in a society where thin bodies were attractive and big bodies were a disgrace
As if it was worse than the crime against  Jews, homosexuals, and the colors of race combined.
Belief that beauty was only found in painted faces with blinding teeth was planted in her brain at such a young age that she forgot how she looked in the mirror because she was too afraid to see her own smile.
She forgot to brush her teeth in the mornings because she was too afraid to ask her mommy, “Mommy, am I as pretty as the ******* the magazine?”
She’s too afraid to hear her mother’s reaction, or her siblings’ reaction, hell, even her father’s reaction.
“No, you’re not as pretty as her,”
That’s what they would say,
But she left before they could finish their sentence:
“No, you’re not as pretty as her. Pretty is an understatement. You’re pretty **** amazing, pretty **** talented, and pretty **** gorgeous, but you sure as hell ain’t just pretty. You’re not beautiful like the distorted girls in television screens, and you’re not beautiful like the chicks on those photoshopped magazines. No, you’re beautiful because you don’t ever see it. You’re beautiful because you hide in the flaws we all grew up in. You’re beautiful because you write your heart out on paper, and you’re beautiful because you give a little piece of your heart out to every person you see. No, you’re not as pretty as those prostitutes like to think they are. No, you’re pretty because you have good judgment and know when to give your heart out to strangers. You’re beautiful because you leave an impact in everyone’s lives, whether it’s good or not, intentional or not. You’re beautiful because you say you aren’t and you believe you aren’t, but you’re pretty **** beautiful for telling everyone that they are instead of saving some of the compliments for yourself. So, no, you will never be as pretty as they are because that’s what they will only stay as - pretty.”
Pretty in photoshoots and pretty in covers,
But they will never ever be as pretty as the girl with the heart too big for its confinements,
Heart too tiny for the world to see.
No, the world will never ever be as pretty as her,
But someday the clouds will drift away,
And the rays of sunshine will come out,
And it will shine on her,
And it will show her that beauty and pretty aren’t just the superficial things she was taught from day one.
Beauty is someone who will leave a mark on this soil,
And she will never look back to see it.
Beauty is someone afraid to believe in everything her parents told her to stay away from.
She doesn’t believe in love because love is too powerful,
And love is too kind, and love is beautiful,
But beauty is something her parents told her not to believe in either,
Because beauty’s an illusion and no one sees the obvious even if it’s right in front of them -
It will be blurred by smoke and ***** and the images that come from drugs.
She was taught to hide beauty or it will hurt you because society doesn’t know how to appreciate it.
They don’t know how to love and find beauty in everything around them,
They all just ignore the girl with the tear tracks on her cheeks and a broken smile and a note on her back that says,
“Beautiful”

There's more to me than my name and my physical appearance
I don't dress to please you and make you comfortable
I don't say things according to your rules
The scars on my elbows and my knees contain more stories than all the lies you puked out
Tears were embedded on my cheeks long before you came around
And the mirror I look into every morning create jagged lines across my wrist
The face I see is a mask no one can ever truly rip off
It's stitched onto my bones and attached to my veins and if one were to ****** it from its place
I'd bleed to death
Crimson and rusty on the floor while my heart still pumps out blood and my lungs still breathe in air
My bones are weakened from all the standing up I have to do
I get knocked down too easily and I have to force myself to fight against gravity
And reach up to grab the hands of those trying to help me
My knees are tired of being bruised from all this shoving around and it's worried that one day I'll just give up and not get back up
But sometimes all we need is that extra push, that extra fall, to finally realize that gravity shouldn't control our lives
We can't live our entire journey just staying in one spot
Gravity is pulling us down while faith and hope is pushing us back up
So maybe we should all try and dust our knees off a little bit
Sigh and take a deep breath
And keep walking because that's all they want us to do

Stumbling and mumbling like a bumbling idiot
Feeling like a toddler who is barely learning how to speak
The first steps, tiny baby steps
Into this territory called "love"
"Kiddy crushing, puppy loving" --
That's what they all call it.
Tongue twisters, tying my tongue into tight knots.
These feelings puzzle my brain.
Questioning every movement, every moment
Waiting patiently for everything to click together
Two halves of a whole taken apart
By those who think they are better than us
Word goes around and around
But never seems to land on the truth
Avoiding all the right answers
Even if it was right in the center,
Bolded, capitalized letters, and highlighted
Just for you.
It will slap you in the face and tell you,
"Get your head out of the clouds!"
Because you need to realize that real life is not a fairy tale,
Not a story straight from the classics.
It is not told at night before your bedtime,
Before your parents tuck you in and kiss you goodnight.
It is something learned from experience,
Something that walks in at all the wrong times.
It'll walk in through the doors when you're crying
And it could walk in during breakfast while you're making your favorite morning coffee.
It even walks out, sometimes unannounced
Even during your happiest moments.
Because that's what love is:
Unpredictable