Like a game of Russian Roulette,
I sit here and I sweat.
My palms are cold and wet.
I am waiting for the gun
To make its way to me.
The barrel glistens
As if to my thoughts it listens.
I am waiting for the bullet’s collision.

My heart pounds in my throat.
My heart pounds in my head.
My heart beats in its place.
What if you found me dead?

Finally the gun has made its way
All the way to me.
Across from you at this table,
I do not break my gaze.
I take a shot of whiskey.
I swallow all the ***.
I put the barrel to my head.
Won’t you join the fun?

You know, my dear,
I am well aware of my mortality.
It hangs on by a thread.
How would you like to know
That said thread
Is made up of
All the words you’ve said?

The gun shines like your eyes.
You taunt me with your smile.
“C’mon, just pull the trigger.
You’ve been stalling quite a while.”
Your smile reassures me
So I put some pressure on
The tiny little trigger,
With the help of some liquor.

Nothing happens.
It is what it is.
It does not really matter.
Because I know what love is.

Sometimes when I'm talking to him he'll ask me a question and I'll be
lost in his pretty eyes. I'll just randomly say yes and not have
any idea what he asked.
Sometimes I wish I could just tell him how I feel so I could move on
& not think about him late at night.
I just know that I'm in love more than I'm supposed to :(

All around me, the sky with its deep shade of dark.
The stars.

The moon with its shrunken soul.
Can I become what I want to become?

Neither wife or mother.
I am noone and nobody is my lover.

I am afraid
that when I go mad,
my father will bow his downy head
into his silver wings and weep.

My daughter, O my daughter.

Sometimes I find myself waiting
Waiting for the old times
The good times, to come back
Im stuck here in slow motion
Surronded by this constant commotion
Sometimes I break and I have no strength left
No im flooded by the pain
Left to fight this war by myself
I don't know who I am
I barely know whats real
I barely feel

It's like when you have the stomach flu,
and the first thing you toss up is your favorite,
homemade, blueberry muffins. How after that,
even though you've eaten them for 19 years,
just the thought of violet-speckled, baked goods
makes you want to hunch over the nearest toilet.

I don't remember when I stopped being able
to stomach irony.

All I know is I spend every morning gargling
minty antiseptics, trying to rid my mouth from
the aftertaste of dreams, but still its ghost lingers
in the back of my throat. I try to wash it down with the
taste of his ****, and the smell of his cologne. Thinking,
I guess, that one day I'll be able to love him like he deserves.

As opposed to wondering what happened between us.

Your catchphrase was," There's nothing to say."
It wasn't until now that I understood.  I wanted so
badly to find the right words. Wanted so bad to mend
what was  irreparably broken.  But you knew that every
time you opened your mouth, you were in danger
of coughing out your heart. Of spewing out a ******
mess of feelings that I didn't yet understand.

Now, as you come to me with olive branches, all I can
do is choke on my own aorta. So understand when I sound
like your broken record, that I'm just trying to hold it together.

thank you for thinking so
highly of me but i think
you are mistaken.

that girl you see, she is
intelligent, capable, ambitious,
pretty **** impressive all round.

nope,
not me.

so please dim that
expectation in your eyes -
it hurts mine.

i am not a cube, nor
any shape you can name; i
would not fit in your fancy box
with your fancy label
to be shipped off
to your fancy institution.

history would tell you that
i am quite the rebel but
i have paved my own way.

do not yank me down
the road as another
of your success stories.

i will not budge.

not an inch.

“do you love me?”
What does it mean when you ask me? How can you not tell?
If you can’t tell that I love you then maybe that’s just as well.
You see I’ve never felt love before, just lust, pain or adoration,
But I know it shouldn’t lie so easy with constant hesitation.
“Do You Love Me!?”
The question pierces my ear but my lips are not sincere
The words don’t roll off my tongue as easy does my eye.
My heart doesn’t beat in rhythm until the time we say goodbye.
I need to breathe, let me breathe. But all I do is sigh.
“DO YOU LOVE ME?!!”
How can you spit wasps at me when all I want to speak is butterflies?
Do you know what love is or is just easier to be cruel than to be kind?
How can I tell you, with tears, with yells, with infidelity? How do I tell you I love you? With lies, broken promises and charity?
“I’ll ASK YOU ONE LAST TIME, IF YOU DON’T ANSWER ME THEN IT’S FINAL.”
Cocked gun at my head, pale blue vision turning scarlet red
“DO.”
It’s small led shaft pointed at my brain, no warmth left.
No time to say I’m sorry just forced words to relieve me of my breath.
“YOU”
Tie a noose to the yew tree and kiss me on the cheek.
It’ll bow down it’s branches and grow new roots. I’ll be ok, escaped to love another day.
“LOVE”
Pull the trigger, I won’t tell. You’ll never know, you can go to hell.
“ME?”**
Yes, of course I do. Why do you even have to ask?

you smell like rain*
i blush.
i have left my raincoat.

and you like tar*
a cigarette always within reach.