I fall in love with boys that I've only known for a night
in badly lit rooms, unfamiliar to me,
with music I've never heard before playing very loud, maybe too much so.

What is so addictive about intoxicating myself, painting my lips red
and brandishing these boys' cheeks, and mouths and tongues
with a shade of lipstick that is maybe too overbearing, and tastes cheap.

All the while they brandish me, with unforgettable eyes, a kiss,
maybe too good to be true, and a personality that soars through the skies
leaving me attached, again, to someone too good for myself.

i still remember the first night we fell asleep on the phone together. i don't recall why you were crying and i'm sorry that you probably do. but i sang to you. i sang to you until you were silent. and that became a ritual for us. my voice carried you into dreams and i had never felt so important before. i didn't know it was possible to think the way someone snored was cute but night after night you proved me wrong. the moments before sleep were occupied by conversations of the future we wanted to build. we talked about being together in our bed in our house someday. i conjured up countless images of memories yet to be made that served as pictures on the pages of stories you told me. those images are still stuck to the walls of my skull, clinging to them as if to say, "but he promised." every time i try to peel them off they scream. i told you from the beginning the way promises tie my stomach in knots and most of the time you were careful. but at 4am when my voice was drowning in sobs i let you tell me you weren't going anywhere. you told me to breathe, suddenly i could. and you kept doing stupid little things until i gave in and laughed. i felt you smile. promises still made me feel sick. but i needed your consistency. the nights i had to fall asleep without you were hell. they always turned into red-eyed mornings where i watched the sun rise before managing only a few hours of dreamless sleep. i always woke up tired. i looked for you in other voices but none of them fit. your promises still lingered in my head. you said my heart would never be broken again, and i know this is not your fault, but i have been picking glass from my lungs for 17 days and the bleeding hasn't stopped.

- m.f

it wasn't a very good day,
it wasn't very bad.
but in the end
the bad starts to overwhelm.

my mind fills up
with thoughts of sadness.
i want to be happy
but i don't know how.

- a.z.

i've been very happy,
but now the good thoughts
are fading away like
a dream at dawn.

and in come the sad,
horrible thoughts.

the thoughts of feeling
like i'm nothing,
that come with the
thoughts that assure me
i am.

the thoughts of not wanting
to live anymore.

i feel so alone
but i know i'm not.
i know that there are
people who love me.

but the sad thoughts,
they just come in
like a wave
and crash into the good
thoughts clearing them out
leaving me with nothing
but sadness.

-a.z.

A shot to **** the pain
A pill to drain the shame
A purge to stop the gain
A cut to break the vein
A smoke to ease the crave
A drink to win the game.
An addiction's and addiction,
Because it always hurts the same.

You were her friend* and yet on a starless night in the back room of an empty bar, you ripped away her innocence. She did not deserve a gag on her mouth and scratches on her cheeks. Blue bruises on the inside of her thighs constantly reminding her where you'd been.

You were her friend and yet you ripped away at her clothing as easily as if you were plucking the roots of a tree, and perhaps you were, because you dug her out and left her there to wither.

You were her friend and all you gave her was forced kisses reeking of whiskey and a bed sheet stained with her nightmare. There was no remorse in your eyes as you held her down and had your way. Again and again and again. You did not even wipe her tears.

You were her friend She did not deserve the whispers and glances in the hallway, your smile reminding her of what you did and your taunts when she sees you.

She was your friend She did not deserve dreams of a rope as a necklace and thoughts of a funeral where no one came.