Barnaby hands me my daily
  cup of coffee, but this time, it's night
  time, and the coffee reminds me of the war
  but not the allies annihilating the Germans or Japanese
  but the war between me and him every time
  he confesses his love to me, the words pierce
  through my heart
  I will never love him as much as he loves
                                        me, I'm disgusting
  like the taste of the coffee
                                        just beans in water.

elementary school was a blur
until in 5th grade two boys
i knew were at my father's work,
ordering subway sandwiches talking
about the red headed girl who had
a muffin top. utterly disgusting.

i had not known what a muffin top
exactly was, until my best friend's
mother explained it and then nodded
in agreement, "i can see the muffin
top-ness to you. i can get you a diet"

in 6th grade, i lost my best friend to
girls who did not have muffin tops
and were not on diet plans, just girls
who existed and played the role of
a child attending middle school

7th and 8th grade was a jumbled
disarray of 730 days filled with
self hatred and self harm,
remembering my best friend
and the muffin top comment

high school! a fresh start, a brand
new adventure. i will find the kids
who know what a muffin top is,
and i'll accept their comment
and hide my low calorie meals

self harm followed with his best friend
self hatred and depression and
being anxious to eat in the cafeteria
so i didn't eat all of freshman year,
i sat in the hallway during lunch

sophomore and junior year i snagged
occasional apples and spare chicken nuggets
from my friends trays, but i never got
a lunch meal myself, even though my
family qualified for free lunch.

but senior year, i am changing.
for the better i believe.
i eat almost 3 times a week, actual meals
pb&j mostly, but it's a meal
the other two days i eat rolls, delicious rolls

i've decided that i am me, and i could have
changed it sooner, but i think i am glad
i hadn't for it made me, me.
the red headed girl with a muffin top
who loves feeding herself, and feeling
full instead of empty.

sometimes i still hate my weight, but
it's my weight, and i have to carry it
i should carry it with joy for my body
is not a chore, or dead weight.
my body is my vessel, and i love it.

he had loved the color orange
passionate orange,
relaxed but caring
deeply

she loved him
as much as he loved
the orange hue in the sunset
vibrantly

he loves her
passionately
caring,
but not relaxing

they clash and orange
is no where in sight
red, violet, blue, green
they splash on their bodies

and other times
they are no other color than
orange and it's siblings
mellow and together

she wishes for them to be
orange, but sometimes he
becomes red and she is
every shade of the end of the rainbow

she becomes violet, then indigo
she transitions to blue
she darkens to the deepest shade
she is only blue, darker than black

he is red, extreme red
he is full of passion
he is fiery and about to explode
he is so bright that he illuminates the whole world

she wishes they could become orange again
and she believes he does too, but
something had happened and they were
only the siblings, no orange around

I do not smoke because I am addicted, as the smoke begins to make me choke
I began smoking because the smoke fills my lungs, allowing me to feel like I'm breathing something besides this sadness, it fills all the empty holes in my soul that you put there.

19 and still
hating myself
over the actions
of other people

feeling stupid
for failing
the person
i love the most

i learned in psychology a valuable lesson
that humans have a need to belong
now i see

im not such a different human
*at all

my apologies mean nothing

i told you how i felt, why i didn't do what you wanted
it meant nothing to you

because "no excuses", right?
if you were on this website,
you'd know i was writing about you.

but you don't know about Hello Poetry,
or that i even wrote poetry.

now, i'm left crying, wanting to self harm again
and you think i don't want you in my life.

it seems more like you don't want me in yours.

i love you so much i'm going to make you hate me.

if you hate me, you'll find someone who makes you happy.

i don't want you to hate me, but
i want you to be happy.

fifteen and stupid
tuesday afternoon
after school, after four
early decemeber
snowing softly

in your room
with the lights
turned off
only christmas lights
lit up our faces

i was timid
and scared
you were confident
and brave

you grabbed me
and kissed me
terribly

i hated it
the kiss
i hated you
the person

but i never
pushed you away
or told you no

but i wish i had
pushed you off me
and wiped my mouth
clean of your saliva
told you how
this isn't what i asked for

but i didn't

and i paid for that

by dating you for almost
a whole year before
i decided i didn't
want this
this kiss
this person

end of my elementary school years i had a diary.
a boy i had a crush on broke my heart and i wrote in my diary on a page somewhere in between the middle and the end about how i was
                 emo.
about how i wanted to cut my wrists and be sad all the time.

my parents found this diary and found this page and questioned me until i said it was all a lie and i didn't even know what emo really was.

i keep a diary online now, and i occasionally cut myself, and i wonder if my parents ever think i'm emo.

would i be able to lie and tell them i don't know what emo is? or would they look at the scars and wonder when i really found out what being emo was.

do you hear that?

the sound of my heart

beating loudly

and passionately

just for you?

or is the sound of

your insults

too loud for you

to concentrate

on more than my

appearance?

blowing breeze pushes this
introvert slightly out of her
round and obnoxious shell of
toxic self
hate so that i can receive praise that i
deserved, even though all i did was
age one more
year

:-)

i have not touched your skin and you have not touched mine,
i haven't felt your warm breath on my skin, on my lips, and you have not felt mine,
i do not know what you smell like, except for the bunny plushie you shipped to me, and you still have yet to smell my fragrance.

i love you though, and you love me. i love you more than i have ever found myself to love someone, and we have dated, yet this love i have for you, can not be bounded by the love someone feels for their significant other,
you are not my girlfriend
you are not my best friend
you are not my wife
you are not my soulmate.

you are my everything, you are the reason i continue breathing, you are the sounds when everything goes silent, you are the pleasant cozy scents when everything is rancid, you are the glimmering sparkle in a sea of darkness.

i am glad that in all the alternate universes there are, i am living the one where i met you and we are closer than a married couple, than twin sisters, than a mother and daughter. we are closer than the human vocabulary can explain.

i could go on for hours about how much you have impacted my life and how i'm so satisfied with you being in it.

and sometimes i still get sad when i think about how there are alternate universes where i don't meet you, or i don't become friends with you, or i even hate you. but those universes are ******* out by this one, and the other ones where we are close, ones where we are still dating, ones where we live right next to each other.

you are the most important person in the world to me, and we have a love that is so much stronger than anything i've ever felt before, ever seen before, or ever even read described before.

i.
love.
you.

i worked up the courage to send you the first message
we talked for hours that night
i laughed and you had smiled
we both seemed happy when we were together
i fell asleep on you because you told me it would be alright
i woke up to you gone, even though i asked you to stay

why do we teach children the wrong things*
why do we tell children* if they are being teased by the opposite gender, it's love
why do we tell children that santa claus and the easter bunny exist
why do we tell children that everything is going to be okay

we are teaching children that love starts slightly abusive
we are teaching children imaginative creatures just to tell them they don't exist later
we are teaching children that all pain goes away

I’ve always hated Rainy days.

The storm cloud always lingers around.
His days wash away.
Like chalk on the sidewalk.

The rain comes down.
Our conversation escapes him.
Like a dog free from a leash.

I Remember when you took me to the park.
Why don’t you.
The Rain washed the day away.

I Remember when you gave me your pocket watch.
But why do you ask me about it every day.
The Rain washed the time away.

I Remember when Nana died.
Why can’t you Remember her name.
The Rain washed her away.

Do you Remember when we danced in the Rain?
I know you do.
We talk about it everyday.

Why that moment?
Why is it so important to you?
Why did you always love the Rain?

I’ll Remember when I go off to college soon
Will you?
Don't let the Rain wash me away too.

You never got around to telling me

when you are told you are worthless

over and over again

you begin to believe you are worthless

and you try to make everyone else

also believe you are worthless

suffocating is lovely,
the carbon dioxide is bottled inside my lungs and bounces rapidly

it makes me feel so alive

drowning is extraordinary,
the water floods the empty parts of me and makes me whole again

it makes me feel so normal

cutting is splendid,
the poison is finally leaving my blood stream and i'm healthy

it makes me feel in control

the problems make me different but they make me feel so normal

when we kiss, it's filthy
exchanging sensual spit
mine tasting of strong alcohol, hints of strawberry
your reminds me of cigarettes, addictive like nicotine
together we are a walking mess
addicted to abusive subtances
addicted to each other

The halls of a high school
are the most
destructive and obnoixous
place to be
but also the most
peaceful and soul searching
place to be

Every teenager in the building
is in the halls in the exact moment
everyone is in one clump
loud, messy, and
thought provoking

you can hear bits of every
passing conversation
fleeting gossip
disruptive insults
blaring music

all the bits gather and swirl
in each others heads
weaving into our thoughts
and popping up in small talk
making your sentence a pop culture reference before your own eyes

If you walk a certain way
head down unless you see your locker
a few steps behind the last person
in the middle of the right side
you just disappear
people don't recognize
your existance

You melt into the routine of your
daily walk in the hallways
you're always walking near
the same people each
passing period

you don't know their names
but they are your friends
when you drop your books,
the two soccer players that
hate their coach help you
because they always walk
behind you and need you
to walk so they can blend in too

the girl in front of you
that seems to have self esteem issues
because shes wearing XXL shirts
when she's only a Large
whenever she sneezes
you acknowledge her
when no one else has
or even would

we've all fallen into the trap
of the hallways vacant yet
totally cramped feeling
we've been molded by it
we are part of the hallways

i'm in love with the dying.

we have that kind of love
but i never thought about it as love

we spend countless hours together, jokingly insulting each other, pushing each others buttons, talking about the reason of living, revealing sinful kinks, our favorite thing about this expanding universe we look up at, how all the stars are dead when we see them, and wonder if people will find us beautiful if when we are already dead.
we talk about the boys at school, and the young men in our friend groups how they are so corny and cute, but have that cute boyish handsome charm to them, each and every one of them, and sometimes we joke about dating them, but it's really scary if you imagine it.
i find myself in you and i wish i could be more like you, while you find yourself in me, and you aspire to be more like me, yet we are never happy being ourselves but being each other, and being each others.

and i think that's why it's love.
that kind of love.

I liked you, very much, you were very different, but then you tried to fit in
Our feelings became more original than different, and our actions became more of a routine than a surprise.
**The biggest surprise we had was when I broke up with you.

i've typed a lot of things
on the internet
to other people,
and i want a lot of my
last messages to be

"my flight just landed,
see you in 15 minutes.
i love you"

I don't really know how to feel,
I'm taking too many pills, my bottle is half empty,
I'm smoking more often, because my lungs feel less empty.

i wish i was like you,
outgoing and sociable.

what is it like talking to someone
just because you feel like it?

how does it feel to send a message
and not feel the chat box closing in on you?

i wish the compliments didn't seem like
covered up insults that stab right through me.

i wish i could talk to you without
having to apologize.

it's hard hitting enter, and whenever i do,
it's even more difficult not to delete it.

i want to go back and remove it all,
never notify you of my need for attention.

i just wanted to talk to you,
so i could seem like you.

anxiety crawling around my skin
head full of empty thoughts
nails in torn and scarred skin

talking to my therapist
fourty-five minutes of talking
feeling self conscious

tired of going to working
tired of going to therapy

tired of messing up
tired of falling down

tired of waking up
tired of existing

you see the entire milky way when you look at me,
a complete master piece, the best exhibit at the show.
you hear a symphony, the top musicians in the world.

i've noticed your stars, the sparkles that appear,
i believe you're an oil painting, took large amounts of skill.
i hear the quietest place on Earth with you.

but i will never love you, as much as you love me, and i'm truly sorry for that.

you've overstayed your welcome, you've extended the deadline to a date i don't see myself living to, you've stopped paying rent.

you're a nuisance.

you lied to me, betrayed me, hurt me, and expected me to remain the loyal little sidekick.

you're the villain.

when i finally stood up for myself, you shot me down, ordered my execution center stage.

you're the devil.

i thought i loved you.
the way you called me princess,
or you called me yours,
how you declared me your favorite
and let me fall asleep in call.
how you messaged me when i couldn't sleep
even when you had work at 7 am

i really ******* thought i loved you,
and sometimes i think i still do,
but you made it really clear that you didn't love me
when you called her princess,
and claimed her as yours,
and said she was the most important person to you
how she fell asleep with you,
and how you helped her back to sleep,
even when you had work at 7 am

i sometimes still think i love you.

i fell in love with you.

i broke my own heart.

i'm sorry.

have i forgiven them, or do i just wish to be forgiven?

they all hurt me,
but i hope you get away from your brother,
and i hope your mom lets you speak other languages
and i hope you finally find that girl who makes you smile
and i hope your dad accepts that you're gay

even though you all hoped that i was dead.
but to be honest,
i hoped i was dead too.

i cried for a good two weeks
after the main incident
i had told you i was sad
but i never told you what else
i had let happen

i stopped eating and
i stopped trying to breathe

but

the body won't let you stop
breathing, your body knows
you are a holy temple,
made to love but also to
be loved.

i was made to love you.
but i was also made to be loved.

you stay muted and i do the talking
it's a different feeling for me
but i enjoy it because you turn on your camera
i love watching you smile when i'm talking
you remind me what it feels like to have a
stranger love me, and just me.

i'm watching you sleep right now
and i'm wondering if he ever thought
the same things i'm thinking
when i fell asleep on him
did you stay because you cared?

my back hurts and has been hurting
for a really long time now

it's not just an ache when i bend over
or when i stand too long

it's constant, reminding me its always
present with its constant throbbing

each disk of my spinal cord feels like
its carrying all my weight on it

but i think they are carrying much more
than my own body on them

my bones are carrying you
but it's not actually you

it's the old you
the memories of you

a genuinely happy you
the one i met back then

the one i began to fell in love with
but you seemed so distant

even though you spent every waking
moment with me, and only me

we were distant, and then you told me
you loved me, and wished i felt the same

flustered i told you i loved you,
i had from the start

we dated for less than a week
but i carry you in my body

every loving memory of you
of past you

in between my bones you sit,
closer to me than you are now

and sometimes i still think that
i love you, but i don't want to.

Usually I enjoy talking about my completely
Not worth listening to feelings but
Undoubtedly people have lost interest
Such as a girl who
Used to vent to me like I vented to her but
After I vented too much she had
Left me behind and found new friends.

every day
i commit suicide

and everyone
lets me die

they do not
stop me

every day
i give up a
piece of me
to please you

every day
i agree to
something i do
not believe in

every day
i break myself
to make you
feel better

i have killed
myself more
than 100 times

and i will
continue to
**** myself

until someone
kills themselves for me

i tend to overthink everything

like why do we talk differently then before, yet feel the same?
or can i ever become bothersome enough that some
***** can swoop in and take you away?
eventually i'll grow out of all of this

you're the best thing to have happened to me and i expect
open arms when we meet up
unless you'll decide on a kiss

<3

its the time of year
where when i pass off
my mask to another me
it is not questioned
i can push myself deep
into the concoction of
the new year's drink
forget myself
but create a new me,
approachable and talkative
a real catch
the girl i wish i could be

then after the ball hits the floor
polluting the party
exciting the people
the new 365 days arrive
i'll be me again
until next year

i don't scratch my skin when it's dry to try to tear the surface to cause myself to bleed
i don't have nightmares where your hand touches mine and you're instantly disgusted
i don't scream all the lyrics to songs that make me cry because I relate too strongly
i don't write poetry because i can't find myself expressing my words
i don't scramble my sentences up so i can hide my anxiousness
i don't avoid eating because i'm afraid of weight
i don't do my homework because i've lost motivation

and i avoid admitting the truth.

i get too attached
i get too focused
i get too comfortable
to strangers
to new people
to old friends
too fast
too fast
too ******* fast

i hate myself for it,
i can't think about you, or her, or him
without wanting to pick up
the small silver solution
and push it into the feelings
and have it all wash away
like when i used to stand in the shower
for hours at a time to just think about things
but now i cant stop thinking and it gets too difficult
to stop thinking and just fall asleep to
temporarily leave this dastardly plane of
"living"

i still miss you
every day
every night

i don't get to sleep with anyone who is there in the morning

i don't have someone who talks to me the way you did

i miss you

i miss us

i feel sad
with out you

but i'd feel sad
making you stay
with me

my mind is like a keyboard
too many options and full of secrets

if you press the right simple combination of keys, i'll speak a phrase

if you type the correct complex code, a beautiful noise emits
                               incorrectly though, i scream in agony

sometimes my keys pop right off, but you can always put them back on easily. i forget about the whole incident even occuring

other times, my keys just get stuck because you spilled something bad there, and the memories get stuck there, and they won't go away no matter how much we try

you could always get a new keyboard or
                                get a new girl, like you always do.

i can never do enough harm to myself

to make up for the amount of harm i did to you

the future is broad,
he said

but is it broad enough for you to love me again?
she thought

i want to be yours, and only yours time & time again.

i just wanted to be in your arms tonight
but i wasn't
and i never will be

because we are miles on miles apart
and even
further apart physically

if i were you

i wouldn't love me

neither

i'm still not asleep,
and neither are you.

you're thinking about her,
and i'm thinking about me.

you're so loving, yet
i'm so selfish, i want your love.

please call me,
please talk to me.

stay with me until i sleep,
then you can go

go back to her,
and i'll go back to me.

if my eyes aren't looking at a screen, they are leaking.