That was the year her father died. She never knew him, but she sees herself in his pictures and regrets not calling him. That was the year the man she took to her sister's wedding turned out to be Gay. The year she lost all hope In love. 2012 was the year her old brother took her hand for the first time and told he loved her, as she tried to hide her snot and tears In a room full of strangers her dad knew. That was the year her thigh developed scars. The year she rode her bike everywhere. The year she never fully knew whether or not she had friends. The year she stopped caring about the relationship between her and her step dad. The year she stopped respecting him. A lot of the Friday nights in 2012 were spent at her older sisters house, watching movies and eating brownies Laughing. A lot. That was the year she grew stronger. That was the time she lived for herself. With 1012 came a new outlook. 2012 *** the year that she knew who she was and what she was doing in life and found out that as hard as it is to move forward, life does go on. Mo matter what.

Oh nights like these
When 10 little white pills
Snarl like the teeth of a spoiled child
The sadness and forbidden surrender
To sleep and easy satisfaction
Become overwhelming.
It becomes the books on my bookcase
My big nose and thin wrists,
It becomes my parents ugly, angry whispers seeping through the heating vents
All the envelopes hidden under my bed
It becomes every question I haven't answered, and every word I was too weak to say
Old chapels covered in dark vines
It becomes big, it becomes huge,
It becomes mountains, it becomes oceans
Continents, nations, the sky, the galaxy
It becomes
10
little
white pills

I kissed a boy with a fever in hopes that he would burn through my thoughts,
but the flame did not fill the gap between my ribs.
I kissed him, lips chapped, bleeding after.
I kissed a boy hard, to make something there that was not.
The look upon his face was full of adoration until he saw my face,
And for a second he looked into my eyes and I was worried he would see what no one else knew.
But he did not, he only smiled as I walked away, like he was content,
But I was not.
But loneliness burns hotter and meaner than fire.

In the depths of shadow and sin
Lay a hopeless young fowl~
Born into dalliance with darkness
An ephemeral beginning nonetheless,
But soon claimed for the one below~
How fetching such hardship!

Kindled hope had been jostled away,
The young fowl never noticed~
For how innocent it had been!
Innocent and oblivious.
How blind the bird was, to what could have been!
One can not miss something one never knew.

The glamour was short lived
And lead to depression
Oppression~
How melancholy, that fledgling
A heart shaped hole in its breast~
But hidden from unseeing eyes

Alas, one day a single teardrop
From god's halcyon manner
Caressed feathered cheek~
To the bird's empty breast,
And sprouted a rose, of all things!

Blooming blossom stretched
Phototropic love lilted from noir caves
Filling young robin's heart and soul
With hope and such peace!
Today, not tomorrow, was the beginning
Of the young bird's healing
The wing had been broken so long~
Such relief!
Mellifluous relief

In beautiful petrichor,
Young spawn took flight,
to face sunlight at last.

She moves slowly in her parlor
in the fading light of day.
In her time she was a beauty,
celebrated on the stage.
From ingénue to has-been
was a short eventful trip.
A cup from which a never-was
Perhaps would like to sip.
Even in her eighties
Her pose is ramrod straight
As when she was a lovely teen
pursued by the rich and great.
She loved the man her husband killed,
She never loved her mate.
When Harry Thaw killed Stanford White
Karma chose the place and date.

I'm sitting here
in constant fear
of events
that are to come.

Warning signs
ring clear as chimes
and my body's going numb.

There's darkness at the edges,
of my vision
and my mind.

And this darkness truly comes for me
to take me home this time.

"You've been running for too long"
it says
"just stop and take a break."

but I know its just a ploy;
my living soul's at stake.

So I run.

I'm running through a labyrinth,
full of broken bones.
Following a winding path
full of empty homes.

I recognize these places;
they're from my recent past.
They're people who have helped me,
but they left me pretty fast.

I have no one else to turn to.
and no where else to go,
so why do I keep running?
My feet, they start to slow.

I've come upon the end
of this horrid maze of bones,
and here's to my efforts:
I have nothing to show;

except my scars.