I imagine that your fingertips will have burnt off
By the time I try to make this better
What is the point in trying if they will never
Have the chance to singe you again but this time
With more passion than unadulterated fear?
I don't know what they feel like from hands
Other than my own
But now you have that under your belt
I'd rather be burned by the acid they let off
Than produce it of my own accord.
You exclaimed vulgarity when the acid
Made contact with your fingertips.
To whom were you fitfully angry?
Yourself who only fell in love with a girl
They constantly lingered upon?
You who stumbled upon it in
Some kind of lust and affection?
Or perhaps me?
The one who sits in bedrooms and never cries
When she produces her own form of acid.
Me, who laughs at the pain.
Who likes the color the water turns.
Who likes fresh blades.
Me, who let your fingertips touch me!
How can you be angry at yourself when
This is who I am?!

I never intended to hurt you
Acid has been pouring for a year
You're fairly new to the hatred I live
I cannot apologize enough for the idea
That I want to let more acid fall
Because I adore your lips
And I need them far too much
Please forgive me and your burnt hands
They do not mean so much harm to me
Jealousy may take them over at times.
Look at me, speaking as if I have
No control over what they do.
I do all of this to myself.

Forgive me, acid, for I want to repay
Her fingertips for your damage and
What I have done to my poor girl.
I want you to be done and finished
Gone and disposed of and never ag-

I find it funny that you think you can defeat me

I'm sorry, girlie.
My one more time will never be enough.

"People throw rocks at things that shine."
Her window was anything but transparent
Residue and memories had embedded themselves
Into the glass and scars marked the paneling

Chipped pieces of tape from 12 years before
Grasped onto its surface because it no longer
Had a picture of a childhood best friend
To frame next to the sunshine and clouds

There was still an impression of her nine-year-old
Hand print from when she watched her mother
And father screaming in the yard and later
Silently begged her mother not to leave as
Car tires squealed on the road parallel to the window

Heat still radiated from when that boy took her
Up against the curtains and glass as
Another boy watched from the yard with
A camera and no one told her 13 was too young

Streaks cascaded down in a mixture
Of blues and grays that came from rainy
Afternoons spent weeping over the loss of
Her never failing God who had left her stranded
Far too many times, especially when it came
To the boy who left her when she lost a baby
At the age of 14 without telling her
Until she had already left the clinic

The locks and springs were broken by the time
She was 16 from almost leaving her drunken
Father practically in a comatose state
On the couch they had found on the side of a road

By the time she was 17, the once
Reflective glass was obscured by the firth
From her life lived in a multitude of change

But every night,
Pebbles hit her bedroom window.

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.

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 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.

I'll be honest.
It isn't because my mother can't commit
I'm not dependent on her idiosyncrasies or her
BeatenKickedMurderedWays

It isn't that my future is too bright
To be shaded by love
Or poetry OrartOrmusicoranythingatall

It isn't the way our hearts just don't beat in time

It isn't you. It isn't me.

It's been two years, and it's still her.

She's still in every sip of the coffee I'm too cowardly to drink and sh
E's in the words I conjure up when I try to be romantic b
Ut I'm all out of wor
Ds to use beca
Use I used them all on her lips

I can't help it. She makes appearances in shopping mall windows and in the steam from my skin melting showers. You want a forever, well so do I

But mine was stolen from me and god I wish I had purple sheets.

"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."

"It gets better."
Her words still play
In the back of my mind
Every time that song plays
And I can feel the
Room around me.

Those words are stitched
Into my brain like
My mom told me never
To allow needles to tattoo me.
But it's okay.
Because my life isn't over
And this is just high school
The world isn't crumbling down
At least not on all sides.
I have something to
Hold on to.

"It gets 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."

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

I don't want to listen to you talk about a dead boy
His mother must be in tears
And his father staring into nothing
Trying to find the soul of the one he lost
I'm sorry for them
I truly am
I just don't want to listen to you talk about it
You have this way of talking like you knew them
Well, of course you did.
His mother cut your hair
And his dog bit your daughter
So of course you knew them all
But you could not tell me why
That boy was drinking last night
Or why he was driving too fast
You couldn't give me that
And I couldn't care less that his body is dead
But with every word that leaves your mouth
The idea of him
Keeps withering away
Because I doubt anyone truly knew him

What other reason would a 19 year old
Have for drinking and driving too fast?

Oh
Yeah
mmmmmmmmmmmm

You know you love me, I know you care
Just make whale sounds whenever, and I'll be there
You are my significant other, you are my heart
And we will never ever ever be apart

If I was your wife, I'd never let you make out in the Ann Frank House
Keep you on my arm, you'd never be alone
I can be your Thigh, anything you want
If I was your wife, I'd never let you make out in the Ann Frank House, I'd never let you make out in the Ann Frank House

Girlie, girlie, girlie mmmmmmmmmmmm
Like baby, baby, baby nooo
Like girlie, girlie, girlie mmmmmmmmmmmm
I thought you'd always be mine (mine)

When I met you girlie my Hamstring went whale noise
Now them Iguanas in my Neck won't stop stop
And even though it's a struggle love is all we got
So we gonna keep keep fluffing to the mountain top

There's gonna be one more Hamstring going whale noise
One more Hamstring going whale noise
One more Hamstring going whale noise

Your Spine, my biggest weakness
Shouldn't have let you know
I'm always gonna do what they say (hey)
If you need me
I'll come groping
From a thousand miles away
When you grow beards at McDonalds I grow beards at McDonalds (oh whoa)
You fly big red dragons, I fly big red dragons
Hey

Na na na, na na na, na na mmmmmmmmmmmm
Yeah significant other
Na na na, na na na, na na na mmmmmmmmmmmm
If I was your wife
Na na na, na na na, na na na mmmmmmmmmmmm
Na na na, na na na, na na na mmmmmmmmmmmm
If I was your wife

My friends say I'm a fool to think
That you're the one for me
I guess I'm just a skanky fool for my girlie

Uhh ohhh

You are a horrible man
And I hate you
I hate what you do to her
You are pathetic
And I feel nothing for you
Other than pure hatred
***** pitying you
You don't deserve my pity
Like you don't deserve the love
She is always going to have
For you in some way.

I don't know who decided
That "daddy issues" were hot
Because I have seen the
Girl of my dreams break down
Before me because of you
And it has me worried
Every
Single
Night
That I will see her the next day
And she will be bruised and beaten
And there will be nothing
I
Can
Do
About
It
Because
All
She
Wants
Is to be
Anything
But like
*You.

In Spanish class, my teacher told me to answer the question
"When you were a kid, did you tell lies?"
I answered, in Spanish,
"Yes, I lied a lot."
And the class laughed.
The teacher exasperated,
"Ohhhhh, well then."
With a smile embedded on his face.
And I smiled, too.
Because it wasn't a lie.

She told me to stop protecting her from what I do
Because she would always find out
And I guess it would be easier to hear
About it from my lips
Than in a poem or on social media
Because then,
I'm guessing here,
She could hug me.
And I could possibly let her in.
And I want to do that.
But,
When I was a little girl,
I lied a lot.
And now,
I'm not such a little girl
And lies spill from my mouth
And I really don't know why.

She almost had me in tears today
People don't do that to me
I cried when Rebecca found out
I cried in front of White
I cried when I told Kristi, both times
I cried when Ali and I talked back in June about it
I cry at the thought of Jed and Eric finding out
I cried the day after I started because of Savanna
And now she has me crying
And I can't stop and I don't want anything
To break because I can't stop being broken
But what are you supposed to do
When shards of glass keep being
Thrown like knives at what I love
I never think it will be me doing the throwing.

I've got seven years bad luck
And a broken mirror in my art box.

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
TOLD
YOU
IT
WOULD
BE
LIKE
I
DREAMT
HER
AND
WOKE
UP.

It doesn't feel like
We agreed on it
It feels like I talked
To you in a dream
And I'm still doubting
What I know to be true
But I'll wait anyway
In hopes that I didn't
Dream and you will
Be waiting for me
When I get to see you
Smile again like I used to.

I keep looking over things we wrote
And I feel the flame from when
You burned the heart
I poured out for you.
I feel the paper ignite and the
Redblackwhitehatredblueorange
Collage take place on my
Penmanship.
I keep crying over you.
I can't hear you anymore
But I've resorted to shutting off
Your voice and becoming,
As a conquest called me,
A lying ***** with little self respect.
In a week or two,
Your voice will be back
Screaming "I
LoveHateLiedKilledWantedSkillfullyPlayed
You."
And I'll yell some more
Through poems you may or may not
Read.
And I'll cry some tears
Which soak up the bed we first
Kissed on.
I'll beat something senseless
To drown you out.
Because I don't think,
Even if you could
(For all I know you could),
You would speak to me.
We are just ghosts to the other.

I'm weeping.
I can still feel you.
But only in the dark.
I miss you, Anna.
Sunday will be a year
Since you first told me you loved me.
Will you remember?

I could go to our messages and read them over.
But I'm too tired tonight.
I think it's the first time I've just
Sighed
And said no to myself.
I'm tired.
And I'm not sure of what this time.
It's familiar,
The exhaustion I feel.
But there are no blades
And no more lover's stares.
Just sleepiness and lonliness.
So I won't revisit
You again tonight
But only out of exhaustion,
My dear.
Forgive me.

You had me wrapped up inside of you
And it was the closest thing I've ever come to
Hating my world and what I do inside of it
And inside of... I guess my everything.
I made the wind blow throughout you
And this is how you repay yourself?
You have this way of wanting to forget
And I don't think you understand why.
Forget me.
Forget her.
Forget your own name and let yourself be happy.
I think that you believe that you have to forget
To be okay with what you are.
You are hell on wheels and
You have this tendency to be overwhelmed
By the absence of yourself
That you cannot change.
Let me explain and be quite plain
Forgetting is pain
And forgetting is too tall
Skyscrapers in cities and cop
Cars that showed up for no **** reason
Because you aren't going to jump
And forgetting is letting go
Unwillingly
Of everything you have ever even
Lied to to tell it that you loved them
And forgetting is lies.
You can never forget.
Because forgetting would mean
You got out and you never will
Because the torment you feel,
It lives inside of you
And it is never going away.

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.

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 don't care
How many pale
Patches of sunlight
Had groped their way
Through that curtain.
It would still leave
Blood red stains
Of some kind of light
On his newly cleaned
Carpet.

Despite everything I
Know
I still have a tiny bit of
Hope
That I will get off this bus
And she will be there waiting
To kiss me in the darkest
Corners of my mind.

My lips are torn to shreds; It feels like he ***** me
And it feels like I've been abandoned to live with my sister
Do I have an eating disorder and is my best friend dead?
Am I an outcast like they told me?
Did my house burn down under their bombs?
Am I actually in rehab?
Who are all these people?
What happened last Christmas?
Am I really going insane and can I write well enough to get in a magazine?
Did my family die in a car wreck and am I a ghost?
Are people born in July more stupid than those in August?

No, I really shouldn't be allowed to read.

I'm starting to look like
One of those
"Is your joke still funny?"
Pictures.

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.

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.

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.

i threw them against walls
out of a fit of anger at someone
i dont think it was you
but your bracelet hit the wall first
then my christmas present
i almost broke the new necklace's chain
because im not giving up on you
but they keep telling me im bad for you
because i know i am
despite what you say
i know i hurt you so much
and i just want to stop that
but i dont know how without
hurting myself in the process

I'm sorry Anna
I tried to be strong
But they were too pretty
In my hand
And they had this
Way of reminding me of you
So I'm hoping they'll bring
You to me
For another night in my dreams.
That's all I ask for.
Just one more.

Just one more.

I don't want to be me anymore
I want to be someone
Different from who you all know.
So here is my new name.
At least on the internet
Because I can't stand to be called
Jess and I always wanted to
Name a girl Kori,
But I don't really think I'll
Want kids, so who better
To name than myself?

I just started a load of laundry
In hopes that it will wash away
The discomfort around expression
From my identity.
I imagine little people
As they run up and down
My pant legs
My shirt sleeves
My bra straps
Steadily scrubbing the internal
Abuse from the fabric.
They peel off the fine layers
Of self hatred and grime
Only to leave behind a shell
For my body to fill once more.

And, with no doubt,
I will climb from bed tomorrow
To don these scraps and
They will become one with me again.
My self doubt
and insecurities will
Stain my shirt pits
and my pant cuffs.
The devil raging inside me will,
More than likely,
***** my underwear
Leaving me in my own filth
Until I find time again
To do the laundry.

No, we will not.
She's a class act liar
With a pair of lips attached.
I've not let myself be angry with her.
Her eyes always seemed so kind.
I watched her cry over her father on the bathroom floor.
She told me she was attracted to me
Because I didn't push her to tell me
About herself.
So she lied.
She put us in this mess.
It was never about my cutting
Though I'm stopping that anyway.
It was always the lies.
The lies that we're not needed.
But they sat there and boiled under her skin.
I learned not to trust her stories.
I came to the conclusion that it didn't matter.
But lies do.
Lies have me crying most nights
And bring her picture and my necklace to my lips.
Lies have destroyed us all.

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.

One of our friends:
She once told me that our love was a tragic love story.
We are the broken ones, she said,
Who just happened to stumble upon one another.
We are a tragic love story.
And I'm just hoping
We get our eventual happily ever after,
Even if the author doesn't give it to us
And we have to conjure up
Our own ending.

Do better.

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.

I didn't realize
How easily the
Words
Stupid
Idiot
Worthless
*****
Fat
******
Nothing
Gross
C­ame out of
My mouth
Especially
After treating myself
Better

They always tell us that mother knows best
And maybe, to an extent, they are right
But what if your mother never explained to you
That it is vital to search a boy thoroughly before
You let him kiss you on your door step
Or that you don't have to say yes every time
Your friends ask for help when they are broken?
I recall being five and looking up at my mother
And she had nothing to say when I asked her
Why God brought pain to her when she
Wanted to die even though she had all of us
When he left her on a street side crying.

Mother knows best but she told me not to love girls
She told me that grand kids needed to be born
But I am only 16 and my girl loves me
And she kisses like a devil
But, then again, I don't believe in the God
That disappeared on us when my mother lost everything.

Yes, she is supposed to guide me through life
But I can't help but wonder if my kids would
Think I know best if I didn't notice their
****** sleeves and carving board souls.

I understand that mother knows best
But she has to know first.

In the back of my mind
I hear them chiming ever so softly
They ring with a clarity
That nothing could-

Shut up, you child
That will be the death of you
In the end because puppets
Should not be so
Attracted to their poison
Do you want to shatter?

They are silver and polished
With trumpets sounding
Behind their tones
And there has never been-

This is for the weak at heart
If you do that, nothing will
Change but the fact that
Everything will be stolen
From you again
Do you want to be like your mother?

A white dress flows down
The aisle and violins play
The march of the powerful
And we think that-

Get over yourself child
No one will ever want you like that
She's just lying so that
You won't be so afraid of
What you will do to her
Don't you understand that-

No.
I love her.
She loves me.
Stop with your petty games
You killer piece of my head.
It's not today or two years away.
But ******
One day
She will ask
And I won't
Let you get in her way.