I used to be a poet
But then I killed myself
I used to read fine literature
But then I lost the shelf
I used to be an actress
But then I overdosed
I used to dance ballet
And I used to tell good jokes
I used to be a painter,
Before my fingers broke.
I used to be a Christian
Before everything fell
Now I don’t believe in Satan
So I’ll be seeing you in hell
I used to breathe oxygen
Before my lungs filled up with steel
Sometimes I would hear music
Until I learned it wasn’t real
I used to cut my wrists
Until I learned I’d never heal
I used to be a lizard
Before my second life
I used to be a mother
And once I was a wife
I just drank some poison
But trust me I won’t leave
I’m solid, I’m a rock
I’m as strong as I’ll ever

Even when she leaves she stays
Even when she cries she plays
Even when she dies she breathes
Even when she’s blind she sees
Even when she laughs she’s sad
Every bit of good is bad.
Even though she lives she’s died.
Her coward-ness outweighs her pride
She’s full of dreams, though she does not sleep
She does not starve because she does not eat
Her wonderful future, an imaginary friend.
Her life is a game she’ll never win
Her fragile heart, it’s made of steel
Her pain is fake, but ever real.
Every time she breathes she breaks
Every time she gives she takes
And every time she loves she hates.
Even though she’s smart she’s dumb
Even when she feels she’s numb
Every day she lives she dies
She can’t be reached so no one tries
She is wind and nothing more.
She doesn't bleed but always hurts
Her coward-ness outweighs her pride.
From broken heart or broken mind
Her life is dead
But she can’t die.

I liked how it used to be.
When I was you,
And you were me.
I loved the ways
We sometimes talked.
Like you were older,
Or I was mom.
I envied the way,
That you would always claim.
That nothing’s forever,
And this will be okay.

You don’t talk that way anymore.
But I still believe you.
The consequences of me becoming me,
And you being you.

You looked at me
My heart kicked up
My breath picked up
My eyes lit up
You kissed my cheek
And my eyes dropped shut
Undeniable lust
My heart kicked up

My brother and I
don't talk anymore.
Not even if we run into each other
at a party.
With him ****** and me very drunk.
A hello is as far as it goes.
We pass each other silently
in the corridors of my home.
Things are different
slowly but suddenly.
We used to walk the halls of the school
holding hands,
even up until seventh grade.
Well he was in sixth.
Everyone told us they were so jealous,
best friends and family.
We planned to grow up
and have houses with adjoining yards.
We would share a pool.
But my brother died two years ago.
Now even if I try I am disappointed.
Want to go on a walk?
His eyes stare blankly ahead at the computer.
When sharing the kitchen space,
Do you remember that time
we broke the tire swing?
Not really he mumbles
with the slam of the fridge door
as he slips out of the room.
He'll come out of this.
People tell me all the time.
I don't really think
people come back from the dead.
Yet, every day I find myself
checking his features for signs of life.

I tried to write a poem for my mom
Filled with warmth and admiration
That she could feel a deep happiness while reading.
I really did
But all that came out
Were a few poems about a mean boy at school
Some ******, unoriginal cliches
And a suicide note

So here it is:
"I'm so sorry"