my first boyfriend bought me an etch-a-sketch for christmas
with "i love you" drawn onto it
then broke up with me on new years day
the irony is not lost on me
and i still don't know
what shook him so hard
that i was erased
i was young then-
didn't know much about life
about love
hell, i still don't
i stumble my way through it all
i often trip & fall
yeah, i'm clumsy like that
but i'm saving all my "i love you"'s
and keeping them to myself
'cause honestly,
my love is the quiet kind
it's not candles & fancy table-cloths
or nicholas sparks dialogue
no, it isn't shouted from rooftops
instead,
it's whispered into pillowcases
in lonely beds
i make valentines mixtapes
that i never give out
i catch my tongue
before it runs away
with the words
i don't have the guts to say
i keep them locked up
somewhere in my ribcage
when i see you
i feel them rattling in my bones
there are claw marks on my throat
from times they've threatened
to spill out my mouth
i cry for you
like spilled milk
as white as your library smile
let me inside
i wanna learn everything
your wisdom teeth have to offer
i promise
i will be the perfect pupil
get straight A's
in the curves of your lips
anyway,
what i mean to say
is if i kiss you
would that
be
okay?

1.
it was my first cigarette
in weeks that i hadn’t found
half-smoked on the asphalt
and it still tasted like something
leftover from somewhere
i don’t belong;
its smoke drifted through
the evening city mist like
how our voices used to harmonize
but only when we weren’t trying.

2.
on the blue line through
south central i heard someone
say “i could’ve been president
of the whole world, could’ve
taught y’all something about
success” —
she wasn’t talking to nobody
but the whole train listened
and in that, she taught me
more than any textbook
ever could.

3.
when you stand on 5th
and san pedro you can’t see
nothing besides the cliff
at the end of the world,
but instead of clouds there’s
puddles of ****, instead of
waterfalls there’s shopping carts
filled with people’s whole lives
and everyone down there is
shaking their heads at you —
leave, leave unless you know
what falling feels like.

You were bad in bed,
I’m talking from the outside looking in.
You never could push against me
Quite right, never quite long enough
And it was never as rough as I,
Or any sane woman,
Would want.
We all want to bleed, you see,
Convulsing between ***** sheets.
Castles are for princesses and I’m not royalty.
Don’t ask me why, then,
It’s your clumsy, hasty touch
I crave
Here in the stupidest hour of the black,
My irritated fingers pressing
Into half-hearted folds.
I can taste you on my lapping tongue,
I wish you’d come here
And be bad in my bed.
Turns out,
I seem to miss your incompetence
Most of all.

"happy"
As I lay in the puddle of tears on my bed
I feel so alive
My mask has been taken off
It's truly me
The words I speak are so me
Almost too me
There so unclean that hurts my ears

When I wake up from my bed and head out to school
I turn around and grab that "happy" mask right off the shelf
Just hopping no one notices it's a mask
I look so calm
So collected

You could never tell that on the inside are scares so deep
So alive
That I relive them everyday

But when I get home I open up your stories and feel so alive

How can I ever share myself with anyone
When can I trust people to love me for my scares
For my scares make me
But at one point they broke me

So when I close ur book
I take off that mask
Smash it to pieces
I tell myself tomorrow I will be myself

When I get up I make a new mask
A better one
One that can't be broken
One that can hide anything

Maybe one day together we can break it
But for now I'm fine with always being "happy"

She came barreling into the room,
riding the back of a burnt out star,
her energy crackled and flickered
like flint against steel.
Blue half moons
where her eyes should have been,
simple constellations marked across her face
like maps of emotions and the truth behind her
lazy smile. Her energy took the breath out of me,
and mingled with my own galaxy,
reaching wave lengths of unknown mathematics.
I wanted to say something,
I wanted to touch her,
lightly, a whisper of skin only our
hearts could translate.
I knew something would soar between us,
sparks or maybe even a shooting star.
But she was gone as soon as she came,
an eon of stars following her out the door,
and I was already ten light years behind,
I knew I would never reach her in this lifetime,

but maybe in the next.

And the prettiest I've ever felt
was when you had me on the floor
begging for your hand to scold me
Your punishment was something I adored.
You tied me up in ribbons,
and marked my skin with shades of blue
and they reminded me of my shadow
because I'd imagined it to be that color, too.
I'd traded in flowers
for ropes and chains
and I'd submit myself to daily beatings
just to feel pain.
I knew, if I was good this time-
I'd get a kiss or two.
You call me princess when you're done with me
and send me to my room.
I often stare out of the window,
and wonder
why I do what I do
but love is a funny thing,
and you haven't a clue
You don't know how to love me
because you believe
no one has loved you
but oh,
I do.

*I do.

I stood under the showerhead today
cleansing myself and wondering
if the same thing could be done to my past.

Head first, I
lather my hair,
massage my regrets into my skull
and I let it sit.
I’ve done this enough times that
I think my brain
has absorbed them all
The sorrows seep in
and decide that one rinsing
        - and neither was two, or three, or four
wasn’t quite enough
        - my arms are sore so I guess I’ll just move on.

Next, my skin
is subjected to vigorous scrubbing.
I can never
remove enough layers of shame
I can never
exfoliate all my guilt
and when I look down, my hands
contain ghost stains of crimson gloves
        - “Out, ****** spot! out, I say!”
I wonder if
anyone else sees me this way
I wonder if
the callused and scarred tissue in my heart
can be so easily removed
like dust, grime, oil, blood.

I slump against the tile wall,
letting the water scald the coldness inside me.
Is it easier to live when you close your eyes
instead of watching the things that nearly killed you
swirl around in infinite eddies
down the drain?
I flinch at the way the water
gurgles down the pipes, wondering why
it’s so easy for them to take it in
and let it go.

The water stops. I shake off
the last of the tenacious water droplets
and I run my hands down my wrists, my ribs, my face
It is good to feel like your body is a clean slate.
I remember what all I scrubbed and scraped and
rubbed off, and I think
*No more. No more. No more.