If I said that I didn’t think about you,
I’d be lying.
If I said that I didn’t miss you,
I’d be lying.
If I said that I didn’t wish for a break in the silence,
I’d be lying.
So, I won’t say anything at all,
just as promised.

In all my years here,
I will not remember what's on page five of my notes
for that one class I took last semester
or the one before,
but rather the lessons I've learned along the way.
This,
I would say,
is what I have learned in college.
This,
I would say,
matters:

Live your life.
Don't let others live it for you.
Act your age.
Mind your own business.
Be there for the people who care.
Be there for the people who don't.
Be independent.
Get over yourself.
Love.
Let yourself be loved.
Be honest.
Hold on.
Let go.
Change things.
Accept things.
Break things.
Fix things.
Win.
Lose.
Cry.
Laugh.
Mess up.
Step up.
Be better.
And whatever you do, don't let someone else take the best of you away,
And if you do,
forgive them,
but mostly,
forgive yourself.

I tried to find
the perfect words,
most poetic line,
or graceful prose
to encompass
the passion that builds me,
but in this moment
every lyric
makes the world
a solitary
cliché.

This bed feels hard beneath my back,
while my head aches with swarms of beasts
trying to break through the door,
faceless demons who want to reunite with my bones.

They won’t.

This exterior has strengthened,
shielding the dark magic the devil tries to drill.
And my sword wards off the stragglers,
drowning the witches in water and smoke.

But sometimes I just want distraction –
from my head,
from my heart,
from its steady beat,
reminding me of who I am. –
Because, sometimes, I just want to drown out with the rest,
to fade into the crowd,
and feel ever-so-swiftly faceless.

See, sometimes I want a warm body to hold me,
for once in my life to live out pure lust –
animalistic and loveless. –
In a world where it’s use or be used,
For once I want to be the predator.

Rough arms to wrap around my bare back,
my legs to wrap around a smooth waist,
my body pressed against a cold wall
as a steady hand grazes my thigh,
a tongue that ventures around my earlobe,
and lips that travel down my *******,
but no eyes to look into, for this means nothing,
so eventually we can…

But I stop because it won’t ever be.
As much as I want to feel nothing at all,
even for just a few moments,
there’s nothing that will make me forget.

I’m too strong for this now,
too happy for this now,
that when I’d like to cry, I can’t –
lucky if a single tear cools my cheek,
but never enough to feel better.

Every time the wish arrives
my own voice makes the thought subside
with a single, chilling whisper:
I’m better than this.

So all I can do
is hope that someday I’ll eventually be rewarded
for the falters that led to my freedom,
a freedom that has chained me down…

for simply
being
me.

It takes a certain kind of person
to convince you that your life
has incredible worth.

It takes a completely different kind of person
to do everything in their power
to take that away from you,
until you can force yourself to see it on your own.

And when those two are one in the same…
How the hell did I get here?

With stabbing pangs emanating from my core,
blood ever-so-slowly finding its way to the floor,
sweat on my brow,
and flooding eyes,
I step forward without falter.

And I step again,
And I step again,
And I step again,
And I step again…

And I shall never stop…

“Would you…”
She asked,
“If you could…”
She asked,
“Go back and take it away…”
She asked,
“So that everything would erase itself?
So that you wouldn’t be put through this?”

The fact that the answer came rushing
With a quick and steady lack of hesitation
Is what frightens me the most.

All I really wanted
          All I was trying to do
                    All I was seeking
                              Was for someone to see through it
                    For someone to know me
          For someone to fight
It always comes back to that

It doesn’t come on a horse-drawn carriage.
It doesn’t come as tall, dark, and handsome.
It doesn’t come with a prince’s crown.
It doesn’t come with magic fairy dust.

Forget the chick flicks.
Forget the old school fairy tales.
Forget the Nicholas Sparks novels.
Forget playing M.A.S.H. when you were six years old.

I’m not sure how it works
(Because, trust me, I wish I did).
But this culture has brainwashed our intelligent minds
To writhing pulps obsessed with “love.”
You do not love.
You love to love. And there is a great difference, my dears.
For when you truly love, you don’t feel it.
You do it.

And whoever told you that:
“Immature love says, ‘I love you because I need you.”
Mature love says 'I need you because I love you.’”
…
Well, they have foolishly blundered.
For you don’t “need” to be in love.
Mature love should say, “I love you because I love you,
And I have no explanation for why that is,
But I will always choose to do right by you.”

I don’t have the answer,
So I don’t ask the question.
But I’m not silly enough to believe what the world screams at me.

I have nothing to say.
At least nothing I want to say to the world.
Sometimes, I just write, hoping I find a phrase worth speaking.
This would be one of those times.
Take me away from this moment
To a place I understand or gives comfort.
I’m sick of this living purgatory
Where everything here –
Every feeling,
Every heartbeat,
Every word,
Every desire –
Contradicts itself with something else.
Just take me far away from this city,
Away from the confusion,
Away from the past,
Away from the pain I used to feel,
Away from my heart,
And let me start at a new beginning
Where the finish line isn’t flooded with blackness or blur.
Bring me beyond the horizon,
And I’ll set on this place
To rise in a new world light years away.

It’s when traces of you show in me
That I’m disgusted with the person within.
Conquering heredity is the most difficult task
I’ve ever assigned to myself.

Bleed out of my tears
And let a new fortune tingle my fingertips.

I am a delicate flower in the midst of fiery winter.
I am the gust of wind that brushes through the trees.
I am a cold burst of water that chills you to the bone.
I am the solid brick wall which beyond no one sees.

I am stuck up, I am humble.
I am weak, I am strong.
I am timid, I’m outgoing.
I’m veracious, I am wrong.

And though I can’t undo the shadows of a shallow heart,
And though I can’t reveal a window to the deepest sea,
And though I don’t know where we are or how the rain should fall,
The roses either bloom with life or wash away the tree.

If forgiveness isn’t in the cards,
The quiet stillness reigns.
I’ll always know the deep desires
Of this messed up game.

*I forfeit,
For I am better than this.

1 in the morning,
And my eyes won’t slumber.
The caffeine in my veins keeps my conscious brain flowing.
And when all else fails, I end up here,
A blank word document waiting to be filled
With some sort of story,
or some sort of feeling,
or some sort of ground-breaking thought.
But tonight I have no great words to say.
Just that I feel safe in this place.
And I think, maybe, I enjoy being alone a bit much,
Where I don’t feel the pressure to live up to any expectation,
Where I don’t have to feel distraught
or sad
or helpless
or frail,
Where there’s no one to impress,
Where there’s no one to hurt,
Where there’s no one that I’ll allow to hurt me.
It’s me,
and me alone,
It’s all I need,
A place to be blank.

I find in my writing
I become naked and vulnerable.
Strip me of pretty words and clever phrases.
See beyond the rhymes, alliterations, and metaphors.
It is in my writing that I discover who I am,
who I once was,
and who I could be.
But tonight?
I just want to be blank,
to allow myself to forget all that I’ve done
and start from a place where no one knows me.
Tonight I want to meet the world for the first time.
Not to begin anew, but to simply begin.

This is where I say goodbye,
And this is where I say hello.

And through my own laughter,
I hear someone whisper,
"You're already an outsider to everyone else."

Congitive dissonance.

Here I stand, an outsider to my own body,
Seeing myself,
Hearing my words,
Watching as my lips form each disgraceful, hurtful sound,
Every fearful curse
As I pace the room.
I look on but don't understand.
I just stand here and watch her - myself.
I do nothing,
Because there is nothing I can do.
I don't know that girl.
I've never seen her before.
No one I’ve ever been would speak those words.
No one I’ve ever been would throw herself at him.
No one I’ve ever been would be that desperately pathetic.
Every desire in me screams,
“Shake her!
Snap her out of it!
Smack her!
ANYTHING!”
Who is she to be that selfish?
Who is she to stoop that low?
To only see herself?
To care more for herself than anyone else?
To speak to someone for whom she cares with such false hatred?
Never in any moment has she felt its authenticity.
Just muffled attempts at ignoring her confusion.

Note to self:
Who are you?
What have you become?

I watch but do nothing.
And I follow her home to watch her more,
Searching for a clue behind every nervous twitch.
A palm full of twenty painkillers trembles in one hand,
A bottle of water in the other,
Tears ceased,
Just calm.
There she sits for what seems like hours
But only proves minutes.
And something inside of her makes her stop.
Me?
Somehow, two days later, we meet again.
My vision has changed.
I feel her again,
A version of her I respect.
One moment watching,
And the next moment being.
So I find the pills.
Without hesitation,
I dump the remains,
Listening to the plop, plop as each drops.
I press the ****,
And they are flushed forever,
Along with the girl I never recognized.

Never will I see either again,
And a quiet grin turns the ends of my lips.

In this silence
All I can hear is the echo of every word.
Mine. Yours. Theirs.
Who the hell do you think you are?
Who the hell do I think I am?

Do me a favor.
Go find a mirror.

Look at yourself.
But more importantly,
See yourself.
Find the marks that line your face.
Wrinkles from smiles,
And stress,
And pain,
And laughter.
Find the scars that mark your skin,
And remember how you handled the ones on your heart.
Find the bruises that blacken your body,
And remember how you blackened yourself.
Are you someone you respect?
Are you someone you love?
This is your life,
And you only get one.
Are you who you want to be?
And if you aren’t,
Are you going to do something about it?

Break the mirror
The way you can break your habits.
Forget the seven years of bad luck.
Those who follow the rules go nowhere.
Those who take risks don’t look back on “what if.”

This is your life.
What will you do with it?
This is your life.
Will you tell the truth?
This is your life,
And you only get one.
This is your life.
You only get one.

You know that whole
Perks-of-Being-a-Wallflower,
“You-accept-the-love-you-think­-you-deserve”
nonsense?
I don’t believe in that ****.
Because maybe some people accept the people
that display their utmost flaws.
Maybe some people see beyond that.
Maybe some people accept love
from those who need it the most,
Those to whom it is the hardest to give,
Because they know that person is doing their best.
That, to me,
is real love.
And just because you accept someone
doesn’t mean you believe in less worth for yourself.

I don't know why I do it,
exactly.

Maybe I'm just trying to avoid it all.
The people.
The laughter.
The heartache.
The living.

I've heard before
that this isn't the way to live.
But I know no other way.
My vessels have been spilled of their blood.
My heart beats simply to get me through the day.
I got sick of emotion,
because emotion gave me nothing.

Maybe the truth is that I pretend not to care.
And that is why I become the shrew that tears through all of you.
Maybe, though I want to be loved,
in some messed up way,
I know that if I can cause you all to hate me,
then no one will miss me when I'm gone.
Then, maybe, I wouldn't feel guilty.

Maybe I know I can't make it go away.
So I put myself in the situations I know will
put a dagger through my core,
so next time?
...Maybe, I won't go there.
But it never works.

Right now, I'm supposed to be out living,
out being a "college student."
But I'm not.
Because "I'm tired."
Maybe the truth is I don't want to feel.
I don't want happy, because it just goes away.
And everything else?
I just don't want to go there.

Sometimes, I say a lot of things I don't mean.
But hear me,
and know I mean this:
I care.
I love.
I hope.
But it kills me.
And I don't understand this at all.

I can’t promise you it will get better soon.
I can’t promise you happiness.
I can’t promise it will all go away.
I can’t promise it will end.
I can’t promise you no pain.
And I can’t promise I’ll always understand.
But I can promise you that
No matter what kind of solid ***** of an exterior you carry,
I see multitudes of greatness beyond that.
I can promise you that you are worth so much more
Than the way you treat yourself.
And I can promise you that you are never,
Ever,
Alone.

You create your own happiness.
I can’t do it for you.

Tonight, I knew I was a hypocrite.
As I stood there with my callous stare,
Mind in a world that will never exist,
The urge to turn to every worshiper around me -
Warning them that they’ll lose it all,
That happiness doesn’t exist,
That love doesn’t exist,
That peace doesn’t exist -
Overflowed inside of me.
But what did I do?
I lay idly quiet, as always.
That’s what’s expected of me, right?
Because how dare I attempt to look for the truth!
How dare I expect honesty from any of you fools!
And how dare I tell you I care.

Where are you now, God?
Where the hell are you now?
Can you hear me, or do I need to scream at the sky some more?

Hypocrite.
That’s all I am.
These ink markings are a beautiful lie,
A beautiful attempt at a reminder of who I can be.
But I can’t be.
I won’t be.
Not in a place as cavalier as here.
This world is a ruthless place.
It’s **** or be killed,
And I’ve murdered what was left inside.

Silently.
Swiftly.

That moment
When you know everything you’ve been fighting -
Every tear, every laugh, every thought, every desire -
Is finally catching up,
And the words dance on the tip of your tongue,
But this fear inhibits the release,
And if you just had something provoke you,
A single solitary word,
That’s all it would take to let it all go,
To let them know,
To just say it -
This ever fleeting desire within
To let yourself feel,
But you always let the fear win.

Please, sir,
Can you just say something?
Say anything to goad her?
She has all of the words right there,
But the beating of her heart tearing through her flesh,
The blinding emotion that emerges with your presence…
It scares her.
She doesn’t want to become that person again,
The one who always depends.

Please, sir,
Just say something.

Please, sir,
Say anything.

She needs this release.
I beg you.

A burden so gruesome that we cannot speak of it.
The tiring lies of a mind yet desired.
Can we fathom our ways?
Can we masquerade about in pithy, writhing moments?
So often have I returned to this place,
Where my spoils and fillings have nothing left to give,
So I think.
And, for this, I know that every occurrence is a façade.
And, for this, I know that there is treasure left within.
To what do we owe this?
What begot so much distain?
What begot so much distance?
To whom can I trace this ******, frozen mire?
Myself.
It all lies within.
So, tonight we tear out our hearts and bury their remains
Into a ground that’s been flooded with so much confusion,
In hopes that our minds will follow.
…But will this blood still seep through my veins?
Will its persistent emotion inhabit every cell?
I have died tonight, with grace and compassion.
Yet, the image of a pulsing heart in my palms
will cause my soul to quiver.
I shiver at the thought.
Where do I go from here?

It’s still alive in me,
It’s still alive in me…

I'm sick of hearing,
"You deserve better."
Because clearly that doesn't matter to me.

I'm sick of hearing,
"Everything happens for a reason."
Because, no, things just happen,
And order is made from it.

I'm sick of hearing,
"I have someone for you."
What makes you think I want someone?

I'm sick of hearing,
"You'll find the right person."
Because what makes you think I'm looking?

I'm sick of hearing,
"I want to be close."
Because so do I,
But we don't change that.

I'm sick of hearing,
"(Insert lie here)."
Because the lies are always invisible
Like me.

I'm sick of hearing,
"You don't need me."
Because you're right, I don't.
But I still want you here.

And I'm still so sick of
"You deserve better."
Because some people are always worth the pain.

Love loosely -
Fight with fire -
Trust treacherously.

It's not hard to disappear
When you're already invisible.

Look through me
To whatever insignificance lies behind me.
See through my scarred up flesh
Like my organs disappear.
Come to me
With your drunken, lonely, usually hidden stupor.
Cry to me on the phone
Until sober reappears.

Wave to me
Like an acquaintance.
Hug me
Like a friend.
Confide in me,
But no one else.
Then into this chair
I blend.
Kiss me
Like you mean it.
Touch me
Like you care.
But don’t forget
To see through me
When I’m still
Standing there.

What is it you want from me?
What is it you plead?
‘Cause all I’ve ask is honest answers,
Yet still you do not heed.

Am I here or not?
Do I live and breathe?
Do you only use me at your will?

Who are we – What?
Make up your mind, boy,
Shortened patience, no time to ****.

For a split second
I remembered what it was like
To feel at home.

And with a breath,
It was gone,
Vanished with the footsteps fading down the hall.

I am my own shelter.
I am a rock.

The sweet scent of his skin,
And the soft hum of his breath,
And the quick pounding I feel
With my ear upon his chest,
And the way those eyes
See far into mine,
Where I used to hide behind falsehoods.

Hold on to your hearts for dear life,
My friends,
When that life is a bumpy ride.

Take my flashlight -
You need it more than I -
And maybe your path will be brightened.
This darkness could swallow you whole,
But may its bullets puncture me before you.

I'll not leave your side, my dear.
This I promise you.

I used to wait for the days when I’d get a free moment from you.
I used to hate the majority of things you did.
I used to feel like a ******* because of things you’d say.
And I used to hate your cavalier attitude.
But in the last month or so,
You’ve become one of – if not the only – person I trust.
And I’m just waiting for the day when it all goes back to how it used to be.
I’m happy for you. I truly am – from the bottom of my heart.
And I’m trying my best to give you space.
But I’ve become a terrible *****,
Because I’m unbelievably jealous.
When I see how happy you are,
I’m ashamed to admit more often than not do the words
“What the hell did you do to deserve that?”
Run through my mind.
Because from what I recall,
One of the lowest years of my life has been because of you.
And despite everything that’s happened recently,
You will always be the person who stole my innocence without my desire to.
And you will always be the one who cheated on me.
And you will always be the one who made me feel more used
Than anyone should ever know.
I was your toy practically every day of my life
While you still used others.
And then,
When someone finally came along and saved me from you,
You tried to take it away from me.
Not to mention the fact that you have tried to cheat on multiple girlfriends with me.
And I get it… you’ve come a long way since then.
That’s why I forgave you.
But why the hell do you get to have what you have?
When all I’ve done is choose to love unconditionally,
Forgive over
And over
And over again,
Accept the people I love for all of their messed up flaws,
And be willing to do anything to make their dreams come true.
What did I ever do to any of you to deserve all that you’ve put me through?
You and all of the others have done nothing but lie, cheat, and womanize.
Yet, I’m the one who spends every night
Struggling with a decision that would make the pain go away.
I guess no one ever said life would be fair.
But they did say it would be worth living.
This, however, is certainly not worth it.

Just because you stop planning to do something
Doesn’t mean every part of you stops wanting it.
As I lie here and let my skin sink into the cold concrete,
I think of how this is where I wished to end.
And I turn over to my knees and begin to pray
For anything,
Everything,
That if there is a god out there,
Will he please hear me?
Because I don’t know if I believe anymore.
And all I want is some kind of sign,
But I don’t ask for one,
Because I know the definition of faith.
In actuality, all I wanted was the truth.
But, you see, though the truth is absolute,
It is also obsolete.
It is avoided at all cost.
And, though you can’t lie it away,
You all attempt to.

I almost killed myself.
I almost ******* killed myself, even though I didn’t want to die.
I just wanted the pain to stop.
And you…
You laid there in my bed and pulled me close,
Held my hand and told me you care,
Told me you were scared to death that I was gone,
Kissed my forehead and then my lips.
You asked for my trust, and I gave it to you.
But you just continued carving the mask you began so long ago.
I was minutes away from swallowing two bottles of pills
Because of the lies swirling around me,
Beating my battered heart into the filthy ground…
And you still lied.

I never thought I’d see the day I believe that
He is more of a man than you.
But here we are in a world where he is the only person I trust.
Tell me, how ****** up is that?
He may have torn parts of my life to meaningless shreds a long time ago,
But at least he admits his wrongs.
You, on the other hand?
You aren’t even man enough to stay faithful,
Much less come clean to me.
Sometimes I wonder if you lie so much that you start to believe yourself.
Words mean nothing to me anymore.
So, I don’t want your “I’m-sorrys” or “I-care-about-yous.”
Because you don’t mean it,
And if you do, then all I want is for you to prove it to me.

You see, I’m not the girl I used to be.
I ripped the naïve heart I gave to you from my chest
And stabbed it with every ounce of realism I could find,
Betraying any kind of faith or trust I had in this world.
My new heart beats to the rhythm of skepticism and independence,
Though, somehow, you still make it skip a beat,
And I know it could open up to you,
If we'd just let it.
I’ve finally shaken the devil from my shoulder
So that baby steps push me upward.
But here I am, still feeling, still wanting the truth to spill from your lips.
So, if you ever decide to stop being scared,
Maybe I will too.
I’ve just come to only believe in actions.

But, as I continue to lay here on this stained masterpiece of a stairwell,
I’m oddly content and inexplicably peaceful.
Only two words come to mind that I have left to pen.
And from the bottom of my heart, I mean them quite dearly:

**** this.

I see your lips moving
And your eyes’ hold on mine,
But I don’t hear a thing.
It’s just another line.

Useless.

I’m sick of “I’m sorry.”
I’m sick of “I care about you.”
I’m sick of “I love you.”
Because you’re not,
And you don’t.

And if you truly are,
Then stop being sorry,
Start growing some *****,
And make it right instead.

And if you truly do,
I don’t want to hear it.
If you do,
Then be here
When I need you the most.

Outside,
A storm is brewing.
Clouds collide as wind unfolds.
Lighting
Strikes a fire in heart,
Burning desires of truth untold.

Inside,
She peers out through fog.
She presses her hand to hardened chill.
Longing,
Frustration forms the mask
Where warm satisfaction used to fill.

Venture
Into dark, raging night,
And hear the drops as they crash to the ground.
Listen,
Spread her arms open wide
But no cold, no drop, no sight, no sound.

Solid,
She stands like a rock.
She stands in the wind and the rain through the storm.
Confused,
She feels no drops on her skin,
No light in her eyes, just sound of the scorn.

Sitting,
She braves the rest of night,
Her only action of blank, empty stares.
Gone,
The feeling, her heart – home –
So nothing she is, and for nothing she cares.

As you pull me close,
Carefully tighten your embrace,
Softly kiss my forehead,
And tell me I’m okay,
Tears fill my eyes,
For all I can think is
“Why is this the only place I feel safe?”

It isn’t mine.

As I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
I know I’ll die before I wake,
So, hopefully, my soul he’ll take.
This want in me has never died,
And life drowns in unending lies.
If I don’t, I’ll surely ****
Those who surround and all my will.
No longer can I be a toy,
No longer know this lack of joy.
And maybe this will cure what ails.
An empty bottle, it never fails.
I'm sorry for the mess I'll leave,
The pain I'll cause if you may grieve.
I hope you learn from all that's done,
And this can stop here when I'm gone.
So, yes, I lay me down to sleep,
And forever sleeping shall I be.

Gentle kneading upon my bare back.
The subtle weight shift I feel
As gravity slowly lets your lips press against my shoulder.
The steady beating of my heart.
The pounding in my ears.

Your warm breath chilling my skin
In the best way.
My face buries itself in my hands.
Don’t do this.

But it doesn’t feel wrong.

Head lifting to feel us cheek to cheek.
Whispers in my ear.
You turn me over,
Forehead pressed to mine.
“Why are you doing this?”
“Why are you letting me?”
A moment of clarity
That causes hours of confusion.

I give in.

Shadows dance across the walls.
Passion, affection, lust.
Love?
The smooth sensation of our skin colliding.
Heavy breathing.
My legs wrap around your waist as you lift me.
I missed these lips.
I missed these hands.
I missed these eyes.

I can still sense it.
It won’t leave me.

Bring on the darkness.
Let the shadows dance once more.

But all I feel is a heart in my chest.
Ba-doom, ba-doom, ba-doom…

Is this how I want to leave my legacy?
But is a legacy worth leaving
Once it’s been tattered and crumbled?
Is that all I am now? A worthless mistake?
Is this even worth writing?
Or am I just further consuming in the terror of “I”?

A fiction novel of a young girl and OD –
All the reasons, hatred, and pain behind it,
The scars they kept tearing open
So she never stopped bleeding,
And the devastation it caused to those who cared –
Would naturally impact the reader.
But when the reaction goes more like,
“I wish I was her,”
It’s not exactly normal.

And then I wonder.
Do any of you actually deserve an explanation?
Is it worth my last moments when you’ve given me few?
When your moments have simply minimized my life
To the putrid carcass it’s become of late?
Manipulation and lies.
That’s all I was worth to any of you.
…When you acknowledged my existence, at least.

Who is the stranger my reflection resembles?
Because I don’t recognize the hatred in those eyes.
She’s dead to herself and most of those around,
So we might as well make it official.
Agreed?

A stranger within and without, so withdraw.
I guess that’s what happens when you spend four years of life
Being lied to, lied about, and lying the pain away.
When you aren’t drinking it away, that is.

It’s when you wake up every day, wishing you hadn’t,
Wondering why you haven’t fixed that yet.
When the people you care for the most in this world
Just lie, manipulate (or try to, at least),
And use your life to no visible end.
When they cheat with you, or try to cheat with you,
While you weren’t enough for them in the first place.
When you know the truth, but you know you’ll never hear it
Because you’re no longer more important than an illusion –
One of power and control that precedes a human life.
When people don’t care,
And when they do, they don’t tell the truth,
And they sure as hell don’t show it.

This is who you become.

And this is all you want.
And you blame no one but yourself.
Because you can’t pinpoint where these desires come from.

No, people don’t want me.
They want to do me.

And to those of you who don’t believe a word of my wants,
I hope you find my lifeless body,
And tears of blood stain your face
Like the knives I’ve dragged across my skin.
But unfortunately, I’m not going to give the satisfaction
Of you fazing me that much.
Because, clearly I’m waiting around for something,
Whatever it may be.

I hope you got what you wanted.
I hope it was worth it.

Can you feel me now?
Do you hear me now?
Will you see me now?
Will you bleed for me now?

I dare you to stop me.

I’m not scared of leaving this world.
But I am scared of leaving before I tell how I actually feel,
When I’m not releasing the infuriation I hold so delicately within.
Is this how I feel?
Or am I lying again?
Do I really plan to do this?
Or am I just reaching out for anyone who cares?
Do I really believe this about those in my life?
Or am I creating a story for an anger-filled poem?
Is this what I really want?
Or is this just easier than telling the truth?
Who knows,
Since no one tells it.
Maybe someone should actually talk to the girl sometime.
Maybe she’ll tell you how she really feels
Beyond this blistering, blunt falsehood.

If you come clean, so will I.
Because somewhere deep down,
That reflection’s not me.
Somewhere deep down
I still believe.

Was it worth it when you shed a tear and pushed me from my own
Straight into the unknown abyss of the who-am-I’s
And where-do-I-go-from-here’s?

Was it worth it to give your heart but so swiftly tear it away
At the unexpected moment when “I love you”
Was “I still do” but “what you had to do”?

Was it worth it when you made it all one-sided and alone,
That you weren’t ready and didn’t want it
When you began it all?

Was it worth it when you changed the past to make me someone different,
A crazy, clingy girl revolved around
The perfectly realistic guy?

Was it worth it when you lied to me and everyone around,
When you spied on personal accounts
And manipulated them so?

Was it worth it when you lied about her, making me a cheater
When I didn’t even know,
Caught up in my tears and tequila?

Was it worth it when you tried to tell me that it never happened,
And I never told my secrets,
A delirious, drunken girl?

Was it worth it when you manipulated my messages but claimed of no such thing,
That you don’t care at all, never will,
And haven’t all along?

Was it worth it when you called me a mistake, a ****, and failure
When I once was a “guardian angel,”
Loved, your “home,” and family?

Would it be worth it if I left forever and murdered every possibilty of returning?
Would you once again let a cold, salty line be drawn straight down your face?
Would you regret any of it?

Was it worth it when I believed in it? And that I had it for you?
You bet your *** it was.
I miss you, you lying ****.
But you deserve every ounce of happiness and success this world can offer.
And if you’re getting there, I could ask for nothing more.
And through my cold demeanor, I'd be nothing but ecstatic for you.

She smiles if you wave.
She hugs you if you lead.
She converses if you please.
She listens if you need.
Her grades don’t stray from perfect.
Her lips don’t mean to deceive.
Her hips leave them lusting.
Her morals make them grieve.
I hate her for the way she looks.
I hate all that she sees.
The perfect shape, the perfect mind,
The perfect she won’t be.
The perfect way she scrutinizes
Her every living inch,
The perfect way she battles with
Each poke and **** and pinch.
The perfect way she blocks it out,
The perfect way she bleeds,
The perfect way she chills the swollen heart,
Not which she heeds.
The perfect way she fakes it,
The carelessness and breeze,
The perfect way she keeps alone
In all her growing ease.
I hate the way she stares at me.
I hate those eyes of tin.
I hate the way they lose their sight
When ***** starts to spin.
I hate the way she knows I feel
But let her judgments be.
I hate that **** reflection
When its searing straight through me.

trust** (verb):
the action of placing faith, belief, and confidence in another;
something I don’t do anymore

truth (noun):
a statement that corresponds with what is factual or certain;
something no one tells anymore

love (noun):
very strong feelings of affection toward another;
a lie that I don’t believe in anymore –
how they get you to give them everything,
you and your life and your heart,
and you’re completely okay with doing that because you think they are doing the same;
a game; an illusion I don’t look for anymore

love (verb):
to make a commitment to someone;
to give your heart completely and unconditionally;
something I avoid admitting, because if I do,
I can no longer protect my heart from the crushing boulder
that’s taken refuge in my chest for the last year

to be myself:
to simply void myself of emotion;
to distract myself with work when I can’t numb myself anymore

All I ever wanted was the truth,
But no one tells that anymore.
So, with what miniscule amount of faith I have left -
In any kind of god, but especially humanity -
All I can really do is try to believe in myself,
Wake up every day, hoping to feel a little bit better than the one before.
Because letting people in is the equivalent to losing control.
When you do it,
You just end up dying before you're actually dead.
And I got sick of being dead.

A daydream.
To sink the blade into angry, red flesh,
To burst every capillary and spill every vein,
To sever every artery and tear away the nerve
Straight to bone
Until the feeling is gone.

But this time
I'm ****** enough to use my sword for defense
And not for self-destruction.

The past is young, arrogant, and naive.
Anger cures what the gullible believe.
Truth betrays, but lies deceive.
Isolation framed by the mask I weave.

Tell me,
Would she be smiling if she knew
Where your hand wanted to venture?

Tell me,
Would she be happy to know
How close your fingertips came?

Tell me,
Would her eyes brighten at the fact
That had I not awoken from sleep…
(I cringe at the mere thought.)?

Tell me,
Would she approve
Of the words that journey from your lips?

Tell me,
Would she still love you if she saw
The movement of your hips?

Tell me,
Would she cry
Knowing what people like you get away with?

Your touch is the stench of a decaying carcass.
You disgust me.
What did you do to deserve happiness?

No one can hear a cry for help
When it doesn't have a sound.

No one can see a tear chill the skin
When it never falls.

No one can grasp a trembling hand
When it never reaches out.

No one can embrace a life
When it never opens up.

The third level of a staircase that rises to five.
Too weak to make it to the top,
Knife in one hand,
Empty pill-bottle in the other.

They find her
Colorless and cold
Upon the empty stairs
With weapons dropped and phone in hand,
Resting on a contact that was never called,
For her fingers were too frail.
Pallid skin chills their hearts.
A note begins “I love you all…”
“I’m sorry” carved into her thigh.
Crusty, red liquid spilled beneath her.
A face devoid of any emotion.

You’re too late.
A heart is steadily silent.
Lungs are stubbornly empty.
A body is willfully lifeless.

A bleeding flesh wound –
I am the fingernail digging in sharply,
Deepening the cave of plasma and color.
I am the itching when healing attempts
To envelop the skin in beige-clustered hues.
I am the crusty, brown layer on top,
Unsightly for certain and unwanted at best.

Did no one teach you? No matter your stance,
Ignoring a scab to its slow, subtle parting
Will still leave a scar behind. –
I gracefully linger, for these scars don’t fade.

My plastic smile and rigid joints
Exist for your manipulation.
My trembling skin and the flesh beneath
Are simply here for your pleasure.
My painted eyes and callused hands
Live to seek your amusement.
My unsteady mind and elastic heart
Die to be under your power.
But don’t forget to return me to
My quiet, reticent place,
Return me to the toy box
Before I’m pawned to the inconspicuous.

With all the disdain and deception of late,
I want to, again, place at my side
The comforting cold of the clear,  orange container.
And I’m scared of what may happen if I do –
But I’m scared of what may happen if I don’t.

This life has proven that every day
The world will attempt to convince me that
I’m no different than anyone else ,
That I’ll never amount to anything better
Than these plastic dimples by which I’m surrounded,
That I’m not enough –
Nor will I ever be.

But it’s then that I remember why I haven’t succumbed
During these last three months.
And it’s then that I remember I am irreplaceable.
So just give up, because I’m a diamond in the rough,
Buried beneath this scorn and smile,
And I dare you to dig deep to my soul,
I dare you to let me discover yours.