I've always been flexible enough to wrap my arms
Around my body to reach my back
Because I knew it would always be difficult
To find someone to hold me in that way
And maybe that God I don't believe in knew
That too and made it worse
By handing me away on a silver platter
To the girl inside my skin who likes to play
With matches and bundles of dried up hair
Mistaken for straw.

Someone once asked me where it hurt
Like they would a small child with
A minor cut on their knee or a **** in their face
And they asked me when I sat on a bathroom
Floor and sobbed for a girl who got her hair
Burt off from getting too close to my
Soul which had too many broken wires.

I screamed at them and showed them
My ****** wrists, saying all the while
That my skin was the last thing
To send me falling to the floor of a dark red pain
That I still see at times when I close my eyes

I've never been one to say that I have a place
For a heart but it hurts back behind all of the
Anatomy that I never bothered to learn
In high school and it feels as if all the blood
From my wrists is filling up my lungs and is seeping
Into the cracks of my virtually invisible heart
And ink spews from my lips every time
I attempt to throw "I love you"s at the back
Of your receding head.

No, I've never touched you in the ways of lovers
Or in the ways that awe stricken girls might
Yearn to be pressed against your hands
But if it makes them let you next to me
I will say that your fingers dug into my rib cage
And rolled around my aortas until I was screaming
Softly as if someone had tested the noises
I could make in that moment when my adrenaline
Pulses through my veins and you pinch
My blood until it would clot under your nails.
I will happily say that my legs wrapped
Around your waist and my lips held yours
I will tell them about your hands behind your head
And mine gripping at your wrists.
If it would mean I could have you again,
I would lie and say that my fingers
Grasped at your core until you smiled like
I imagine you would and your eyes would
Close under my soul that you would have
Tugged out by threads found in my folds
Regarding my mind, I mean,
But if they would be okay with that lie
I would not mean the folds of my mind,
Rather the folds of my being.
They said I was lying to someone and that
They hoped it was you, but the lies I say would
Happily be for them if you got to touch me
In a lovers way years from now when
It wouldn't even matter, because you have
Touched my soul in a way a lover never could
And my heart is waiting to be warmed by
Your soft and inviting hands.

J. C.

Her heart was in my palm
And if I wanted to, I could break it
Because it was my new project
To repair and stitch back together
But I'm out of needles and thread
Plus, my mother never taught me to sow
But my teachers taught me to write
And maybe I can fix her heart with
Blue and black ink and some paper

I'm not exactly sure how well
It will plaster the parts back into place
But she has beautiful eyes and a kind smile
And she kisses like my devil
And I've been told my writing saves lives
Even though my own soul is shattered
So maybe I can save her heart
WIth my glue-based pen and sticky paper
But when she wants it back
I'm sure she would hand it off
To someone who can stitch with a passion
Instead of me with nothing but
Ink stained skin and a paper thin heart

I am shaking.
Not of fear.
Or of pain.
But of something deeper.
Something that has taken root
here inside of me.
Others can barely see it.
But I see it in the mirror.
Behind my eyes it sleeps.
It stays there all the time,
eating at me.
Biting at my worth,
my memories,
my life.
And there is nothing I can do to **** it.
Oh but it gives me ideas.
"Cut just another slit and I'll leave."
"Fast for two more days,
then binge and purge. Then I'll go."
"One more sip of *****,
and I won't come back."
"Down twenty pills,
then you get to leave me."
One day I will learn not to listen.
But for today,
I will let it consume me.
Maybe if I don't learn,
it will swallow me.
Not whole though.
Because at that point,
I will be tiny bite sized pieces.
And when it finishes me off,
it will go for those who mourn.
As I lay in a casket,
it will seep into my loved ones.
And it continues to feed.
Until either it has you,
eating you.

Or you're dead.

Let me assure you that I am aware
That eyes are eyes
Wherther blue, gray, brown, green
for they see what the nose, mouth, ears
Could never begin to fathom.
And yes, I know that many of the colors
Have been given the audacity to
Make hearts flutter to a halt
While others are reduced to acquiring
Their colors from the dullest of souls.
Everyyone can see the pigments
That have surely created the
Being before them.
Yet most are blind to see,
To notice, to care, to love
What lies beneath those
Purely captivating eyes.

Blues scatter throughout
The world we know
From the sky to the ocean
To sad old men
To new baby blankets
To old denim jeans
To new paint and pens.
They run down streets
With a glimmer of emotion
To be seen by more than
Just the blues alone.
They jump and play and skip
From the soles of their feet
To the top most fragment of
Hair on their heads.
Girl envy and swoon over the
Brightness and innocence
Of those blue eyes we see everyday.

Gray for the hardest of men
And the saddest of women,
Almost stone under their lashes
Strength radiating into the eyes
Of others as they stare back in fear.
Indentations from the old beatings,
Heartbreaks, tramas, and even love.
Hard lines of black cross through
The rough outer gray surface
To produce a wall built up
From the iris, pulled and wrapped
Around the heart and mind.
And even if you put your entire
Being into tearing, ripping, crumbling
Their wall, you'll be thrown back
Wishing you had never attempted.

Brown to melt as a new born
Wraps its hand around
A mother's finger
And to glisten when a
Student grasps their torso
Because they were saved by their teacher.
A brown that never hurts
Enough to harden, but loves enough
To smile and be strong.
A brown that is patient and
Knowing, understanding, caring.
Not because they don't know hurt
But for the idea that they've been
Hurt so as to never hurt others.
They will see things that others miss
And get to know secrets that others
Cannot comprehend of imagine.
But every secret will blow at their
Melted eyes, but they will never
Turn to stone.

Green.
To look in a mirror and see the
Trees whistling by as you look out
A car window, full of hopes and dreams.
With sky blue walls and small pictures
About older and younger sisters.
A white bed and crooked teeth
To match it in color.
No make-up,hair parted in the middle
And eyes to match her mother's.
A smile on her lips and in her milky eyes.
Then her walls turned blood red
And her teeth became straight while
Her long sleeves were clutched in her fists
And her eyes no longer brightened
At people, only at things she did.
The rest of the time, her eyes held black lines
And only melted from seeing the beauty
Of life in something other than herself.

So let me ask you,
Are eyes just eyes?
Whether blue, gray, brown, green?
Do they just see what the
Nose, mouth, ears could never fathom?
And are you sure that you are not
Blind to see, to notice, to care, to love
What lies beneath those
Purely captivating eyes?

I've known every type of person
Who has ever roamed this Earth
Known every beaten, broken, dead girl
Known every happy, brilliant, innocent boy
I may have never seen their eyes
But I've know them, none the less

I've known smiles and laugh lines
Of an old mother looking at her son
Known the sparkle in her eyes
Know the desparation in her hugs
No, my mother was never like that
But, all the same, I've known her

I've known bruises and black eyes
Of an abused five-year-old girl
Known the hatred for her father
Known the love that is still buried deep
I was never hurt like she was
But I still feel like I've known her

I've known church bells and crosses
Of a preacher long since his calling
Known his sermons and hymns
Known his passion as he spoke to the church
No, I've never believe in God
But I've known the preacher of his word

I've known ledges and pill bottles
Of a teenage boy who can't handle it anymore
Known the willingness to jump and swallow
Known the unwillingness to do so
I've never done the same as him
But I just know that I've known him

I've known music and lyrics
Of an unknown rock band
Known their words as they wrote
Known their soul behind every piece
No, I've never seen them live
But their music says I've known them

I've known cuts and razors
Of an unaccepted middle child
Known the tears she cries at night
Known the fear of being caught
I have never known that fear
But I'm confident that I've known her

I've known every type of person
Who has ever roamed this Earth
Known all the lovers, abusers, preachers
Known all the killers, players, cutters
No, I am not like any of them
But maybe that's why I'm so lost.

Silky white and unstained
Patches of life and death
Quilted together to create
What you hide under
In fear and hatred and love
The fabric you've torn
In anger and lust and shame
All the same it is stitched
To pieces and broken
To a whole while you
Continuously struggle
With who you have become

Your nails claw and curl
Around its base and you
Crinkle it down until it
Resembles your thoughts
And you crush it down
Like everyone does to
The hearts of innocent
Girls and boys just like you

Silky red and purely stained
Patches of life and death
Etched together to ******
What you hid under
In fear and hatred and love
The fabric they tore
In anger and lust and shame
All the same it is weaved
To pieces and broken
To a whole while they
Continuously struggle
With what you have done to yourself.