I don't like how his eyes
Glaze over
When he stares at the tv
Because I know he's not really seeing
He is just looking
His mind barely processing
Monotony and a lobotomy
It kills me to watch him
Watch nothing

Because I'm scared
One day he will look
At a woman like that
With pure interest
That has been configured
And distorted by so many hours
Of waiting for a blank screen
To lighten up with
Pixilated images and fake stories
And he will see her like
He saw those images

He will see the image
Not the actor
He will see the screen
Not the wires
He will see the carcass
Not the soul

I want more for him
Than that
Than wide eyes
Drooling mouths
Empty ears
And ignoring his grandmother
When she tells him goodnight

I want more for him.

I have this indescribable fear that eats me alive
That everything I do
Everything I say to my broken friends
Everything I do to try and make them smile
Everything I do to keep my grades up
Everything I do to make myself better
Everything I say to make them feel better
Everything I say to keep my demons at bay
Everything I've ever told her
About how much I love her
Everything I've ever said
Everything I've ever done
Everything I aspire to be
I fear it will
Never be good enough

That I
Will never be good
Enough.

A coward, if only I could change it
To create the letters given to you
By a shrew and the punching bag he hit.
You called it worthless, yet I had no clue.
They came to you with slight hesitation
Yet no amount of love or light had power
To stop your fear of the situation,
And to keep you safe locked in their towers.
I watched you hang in their arms, no fighting
Glare in your eyes, but an "I love you" spilled
Silently behind closed doors, more hiding
Even when we had been exposed and killed.
I will see you soon, but where could I start?
You've forgotten how much you stole my heart.

There are just
Some things
That shouldn't be
Written down
Or made into a poem
Because the
Thoughts inside
My head are too
Complex
For the language
Settings on my computer
Or for the lead
In my pencil to have
Enough force
Behind it
To make the words.

It's sad to think that I don't
Wince when I see his picture
I used to shatter at the thought
Of meeting his eyes
I wrote pages upon pages of
Words
That he never saw
And I don't know where
They even are at this point
And it's sad to think that I broke
His heart but then again
I never had the power
Over him to do so in the first place
It's sad to think that he's not
The same man he was back then
And I wonder if when he hugs
Me
He thinks about what he lost
But I'm sure he doesn't
That would be too hard for me
Yes, I'm still shaken up
About what he did to me
It was painful and I lost something
Then
I don't even know what to look for
Silence always seemed to hurt me
A little too much
And it seems to always find it's way
Back to me even when
I actually do love a person
And they love me
Silence always seems to find a way
To crowd into the spaces of my
Mind
And it's sad to think
That he threw away my poems.

Did anyone ever notice
That you only started to get
Really bad
When you didn't have me
To talk to every night?
And when you were forced
To not speak to me?
Did no one make that connection?
You were crushed and beaten
And taught to hate me
Because it was all my fault...
But when you broke,
I wasn't even around to pick
Up the pieces.

Who is to say that music doesn't have power
Because I just went through
Every.
Single.
Song.
On this list and I'm somewhere between
Happy,
Confused,
Concerned,
And
Triggered.

She threatened him
He called her bluff
And now he's gone
It's just us again
Am I shocked?
No, because this
Always happens
After some time
With everyone
Of those men.
And I've gotten
Used to what
She does to us.

You told me that
I never gave
You any reasons
And you are right.
When you start
Giving reasons,
Someone will get
Close to you
And I can't do that
Because she always
Had to.
She gave reason
After reason
After ******* reason
And she drove
Them away.

So no,
I never give you
Reasons.
But I guess this
Is one.
Maybe you will
Never read this
And maybe
You won't give
Me the chance
To be like
My mother.

I keep sticking things
Down my throat
Like being
Skinnier
Will make them
See that I'm not
That bad for her

I keep stabbing blades
Into my stomach
Like if I
Pretend
To be okay
She might
Come back after
The break

I keep throwing
***** and orange juice
Down my
Throat
Like if I'm drunk
Enough I'll
Come up with
The right words
You need to hear

I keep smoking
All of this
****
Like if I get
High enough
I won't have to
Think about
Her leaving me

I keep dreaming
Of doing all
Of these
Things
Like if I dream
I did it enough
Times I could
Make sense
As to why I
Have to stop

I found home
in purple sheets
with her sleepy eyes
that lit with something
that apparently
I put inside of her
when the lights went out

home was breathing to me
in and out
like some kind of
involuntary action
but my house
was not a home
even before it
burned
or before I think
he ***** me

something there had
never been quite right
and I noticed it most
when I was at home
in those purple
sheets and her
messing hair
and her illuminating eyes

oh and I noticed
the feeling of
home sickness
when they took her away
and I still haven't
found a way
to be truly close to her
without seeing her
but I'll find a way
to go back home
soon enough

I'm not nostalgic
for a place that doesn't exist.
I'm nostalgic for
a girl who
let me roll around
in her bed
as our legs intertwined
and we laughed
until we couldn't
help but kiss.
I'm nostalgic for
a home that I
couldn't legally call mine
but I say is anyhow.
I want to go home.
and there is nothing wrong with that.

You've got this way of moving
That always made me believe that you
Wanted me to learn how to dance
Because that was what was to be done.
Little girls were to take ballet
And not kiss other girls behind closed doors.
That's what you always taught me.
But, no, you never said those words.
All you said was a child's version of
"Yes, ma'am" and "No, sir."
But actions speak louder than...
...Wait for it...
Words.
At least that is what my band director taught me.
You always wanted a band kid,
Right, Mommy?

You played nice.
You showed up to my performances
You cried when I played the right notes
And I found my spot on stage
You were all you were supposed to be
Right, Mommy?

I've always had this feeling
That it was all an act
That you showed up for the cameras
And for the other parents
That's why you came to church
All those years when I was younger
Right, Mommy?

I started to doubt you when
I had to sit in the third pew by myself
After he left us again
But you were always sick
That's what you always told me
The old women who sit behind me
Don't believe that anymore
I'm too old for that now
I've lost their pity but maybe they gave it
To the little girl who...
Oh wait, no other kid sits alone
At the front of a Lutheran church.
It's always been just me.
But you were sick all the time; tired
Right, Mommy?

And you brought all of those men
Into our house
And told me not to bolt the door
When the last one left
But I was tired of being belittled
And beaten because you couldn't
STAND to be alone for a year
But I guess I'll get married four times
Like you did because you are
An excellent roll model
Right, Mommy?

I can't remember being little, Mommy.
Did you let him hurt me?
Or them
What are the chances that you were too busy
Crying your eyes out for an act
And they hurt me?
Slim to none I'm sure,
Right, Mommy?

You've always been a good actress
Maybe that's where I get it from
But you have become so good
That even you don't notice how fake
Your words have become
Especially when it comes to me and who I love
I don't know what to believe anymore
So maybe I'll just start up an act
Like my mommy did.
That seems to be the way things should be
At least that's what I've gathered
From sixteen years with you.

smile
This is better.

Right, Mommy?

I want to convince her that this is wrong
That she shouldn't do this to herself
But I don't know what to do
To convince her of this truth
So I end up doing the same thing.

I'm in this state of limbo.
And no one can pull me out.
I've got a decision to make.
There shouldn't be any doubt.
It should be easy like left or right.
Should I just move on?
Or are we worth the fight?
It doesn't feel like it's up to me.
Not when neither side is there.
I feel no pushing or pulling.
I can't help but wonder why.
The music I'm facing is sweet.
But I still can't get by.
You're gone now, girlie.
And I'm left in limbo.

"Everything happens for a reason."
It's this broken record in my head
Repeating those words like
They are all I'm ever going to need.
Right now that is all I really do
Because she got out of that house
If only for a few months
And she is getting the help
That she needs and deserves.
So, yes, I believe that
Everything happens for a reason.

She cannot speak or see me
Until she gets better and
I'm okay with that for right now.
Because that's what we both need
And I've got something,
Anything, to hold onto.

"Everything happens for a reason."

I wish you could have stayed

I wish you would have fixed this 2 years ago

I wish you could'veshould'vewould've come home to me

But I've heard you're straight now

Or that girls with their burnthandstongueslegsfakelies couldn't keep you at bay and broke your "heart"

But they couldn't have done that
Youleftitwithmeisntthatright?

I hope you're straightnow and that you never actually love someone again. I hope you sleepwithboysthatcanneverbeenough just because you miss me.

I hope I broke you. Just like you did me.

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.

Who
Will
She
Be
Buying
A
Rose
For
This
Year?

You used to be my favorite love metaphor.
The way your tears were never rain,
                                          just another note
     in the song you called your life.
The way your eyes were never emeralds or diamonds,
                                just another word you couldn't write
                           without it finding your soul.
The way your hands were not carved from gold,
                 just boulders that you kept trying to place
                            on my waist
                                    in hopes they wouldn't hurt me.
The way you smiled was never really fake,
                         just something you knew you
                  had to keep so that everyone else could
    smile with you one day.
The way your hair was not really messy,
                      just another thing to deal with
               in the morning before you came to see me.
The way you were never my heroine,
                       just the small thing
                that still crosses my mind every day
      maybe every hour.
The way you told me that I was someone beautiful,
                when in reality I'm just a professional
                      mirror holder upper.
You used to be my perfect love metaphor.
                                      You were the only one I could conjure up.
                  Nowadays
                        
    You seem like my perfect metaphor to match my level of destruction.

"You... Have no idea what to do right now."

"I don't want you to do anything because you feel like you have to for me."

"I love you."

"I hate pickles. And olives. So we are going with the pickle theory instead."

"This is just a road block. A delay in success."

"During connections the other day when you caught me looking at you, I was actually staring."

*that look she gets when I do something wrong, or right, or ****, or she just doesn't know exactly what she wants to say because I do something to her that even I don't understand

Plans and plans and plans.
I give you a month
To sleep with her
And then you'll be okay.
You'll be fine.
Like Josh said,
"We have to get your
Face in a girl by the time you graduate."
You've got to get it done.
So you can stop being
Tormented by her
In your dreams.

I need some help
I need to tell someone that I can't keep these tears from falling anymore
I need someone to know that I can't hold it in
I need to tell someone that my demons still won't let me cry
I need someone to listen
I need someone I can actually cry to
I need someone to beat back my demons.

I need the ability to call you and cry because I can't take this any longer.
And I need you to answer
Even though your phone isn't with you.
I need you to help me.
Please, dear God, help me.
I can't take this anymore.
I got blood on the bathroom walls
And it's coming through my shirt
And I'm sitting on a white bed that will be stained by the morning
Because I can't stop bleeding
And I need to cry,
But I can't.
And I need you.
I need you to know that I'm not okay
I haven't been since you met me
And I'm ready for you to know that
I'm broken in ways no one knows
And I want to let someone in
But I want it to be you
And it can't be.

I'm just shattering
And I only know how to pick up broken pieces.

She always spoke
Of working herself
Sick in the gym
And I'm starting
To understand why
She wanted to feel
This way.

The only thing
I seem to be able to express
Is how much
I want to fall in love again.

She couldn't help but weep with
A red rose in her lap and his
Fingerprints on her heart
Tears kept falling and hatred
Built in her eyes.
The rose grew pale
As her eyes shown red and
Thorns grew in her heart
Leave it to him and a red rose
To turn an angel into
A girl just like him.
She had always preferred
White roses.

I never got the chance
To tell her
That secretly
I call her my angel.
She never did like
Nicknames
But she tolerated
Girlie and baby
Because she loved me.
Angel seemed a little
Too far for us.
But in my head
That was what she was.
She saved me from
The demon my
Mother's many
Marriages had planted.
She made me see light
On my darkest nights
And I let her.
She held me in her arms
And promised to
Protect me and
Guide me when I was lost
As long as I helped her
From time to time.
But even if I didn't
Always know what
To say
She always watched
Over me
And protected me.

So yes,
She was my secret angel.
And one day
I will get the chance
To explain
That to her.

So tonight
I'm letting go.

The last time I got upset at a relapse,
She told me that I was going to be okay.
That the people who love me would never
Change that because I got bad again.

I want to say I'm sorry, though.
My girl asked me to stop.
I told them all of the past 9 months.
They yelled and said they would
Check my body everyday for
Any more signs of self hatred.
But I can't think straight and
It's been a week and all they've done
Is pop a pill into my mouth and
Yelled when I couldn't calm myself
Down as quickly I used to.
So maybe it'd be okay to break
If only for tonight.

I still remember her voice that night
When I could have had her at my lips
But told her no and listened to her
Utter in a broken way,
"Just one more."
I can feel that voice showing into
My everyday conversations and
I can't shake this feeling that
I'm not complete without it.

So, as a warning,
I'm breaking tonight.

I want my poetry to start
Making sense again.

in case you are not aware,
another month has come and
soon, i guess, it will be gone
you'll be left stranded again.
i'm tempted to, just for now,
to indulge myself on you
with what i have and
i'm wondering how you
could have possibly made it
three months with no piece of me.
maybe you haven't
but i hope that everytime you
hear or see or stumble stupidly
upon the number fourteen,
you think of me.
and how we hit nine months
and i still want to be your longest
relationship when you
get back here.

Oh, my darling,
You may be a hurricane,
But I am still
Hell on wheels
And even your silence
Will not stop me now.

The last time I cried for a piece of music,
I sat second chair
And it was January
Probably my 15th birthday
No.
It was.
I wasn't so damaged
I had no scars
My hands were not bruised
And they had never felt blood
In excess amounts
And I was sad yet happy
And I didn't cry for the boy
Who broke my heart the
Year before that
No.
I cried for the music
The complete beauty of it
And my section leader,
She cried too
It was a beautiful piece of music.
Sometimes I hear it in my sleep

One year ago,
February the 28th,
To be exact,
I built up this wall
No more crying
For music, for people, for yourself
Because crying is for the weak

The last time I cried for music
Was January 14th of last year
I hadn't met her yet
She was no one
I barely even knew her mother

Today I cried
During two pieces of music
Because I was wrong
I had this lovely thing
Painted in my head
(I've never been good at art)
Of her leaning on me,
Holding my hand

I cried today for a piece of music
Because of a girl
Who broke my heart
And the same girl
Will probably fix it again
If I let her.

Today I cried for a piece of music
Because I was wrong.

The people I love have bigger problems
Than just me.
One thousand sixth days I know
I am worth loving
Tendencies have a way of allowing us,
Especially me,
To forget that solemn fact.
Always
Between my consistent need for most
Inconsistencies
And a dire need for answers on
Someone's part
There must be something said of indecision
Amongst a lack of decision
All I can truly vouch for would be this:

I've learned to hate the smell of chlorine
And how my brother is a year and a half older
Then my sister and they are not related.
I've learned to hate a small abundance of things
That I never saw before.
I like how I truly hate pools even though
I grew up swimming. It seems a little too much
Like what they wanted for me
Which was always pretentious and scary
To me.
You've forgotten me, I think.
Like she forgot my birthday one year
And lost that court case,
Again.
That's the way you have forgotten me.
I'll forgive you for it
Regretfully, but I know
You were thinking of more important things
Than the girl who believes you are the
Love of her life.
I guess I always knew
You'd have to come running back because
I am such a hurricane
And I introduced you to my own brand of
Destruction (I guess you could call it)
And you're addicted.
I hate that you corrected yourself
When you called me a type of poison.
I'm venomous. And you knew that, Anna.
I hate how I constantly have to bring you up
So you don't run back here one day and think
That my thoughts have not been
Tormented by the very thought of
You every second of everyday since you left
I can't bear to have you think anything but the truth.
I hate a lot of things.
You and I are both included in this list.
The only dynamic difference is that
I'm also in love with you and I,
Especially together,
Despite my tendency to hate stupid ideas.

Let me just say
That sometimes
The words I
Have to say
Are best put
In the words
That other people
Have written
As songs.
And I am
Not ashamed
To say that
I could not
Word my thoughts
Any better.

"This is just a road block. A delay in success."
I remember the day she first told me that.
And how I couldn't help but smile.
No, this isn't it for us.
One day she will hold my hand again.
And I'll be able to kiss her with people watching.
Who knows, maybe we'll wear white
As our loved ones watch us kiss.

I don't know much.
But I know that this situation
Will not last forever.
And I know we will be together
Again, one day.

"This is just a road block. A delay in success."

There are just too many poems
and thoughts
and longings
and conversations
and breaths
and heart beats
and whispers
and lonely nights
and breaking moments
and wonderful laughs
devoted to you

I want destruction
Everyone tells me that poetry is a form of such
But my therapist tells me it's great for my health
I don't want healthy.
I want bony ankles and legs and
A concave stomach
Filled with pills
That is also covered in my own form
Of detriment.
I want ****** and death that is also beautiful.
So maybe I do want poetry.
But I want it written in my eyes
So everyone can see what happens
Inside of my head.

I need to get out of here.
I need to get away from my stomach problems
Caused by a girl who is working for herself.
I need to get away from the self harm
Everyone around me seems to commit.
I need to move on and let myself get better.
I cannot wait until I get to Boston to be okay.
I need to get better now because I was meant
To be okay and to be alive and happy.
I don't think my friends quite agree
With that fact.

I seem
To have forgotten
why
That girl is
Struggling to
Get away from
Her own body
Of a
Cigarette.
It seems thin
Enough to me