she used to cry
when she stubbed her toe
but now she never cries
and theres one less blade
in the pencil sharpener

i did not
throw anything away

it was you
who threw me out

and i simply remained
where you left me

and why do i care
about sleep and waking and eating and living
because we all die someday
just like when you left
and i died
so i am not alive
so why do i care
about sleep and waking and eating and living

its always there

sometimes
i get so happy
that i find myself
sad
again

how is it
that two things
that are so different
are so connected?

they say that good things
come with time

but with you
time is an illusion
and every day spent
building up to this point
means nothing

because all i know
in this moment
is you
standing before me

i haven't decided
whether or not
happiness
is worth it
because it has
never
stayed with me
long enough
to be able
to tell

my heart will continue to beat
regardless of whether or not
you are still within it

science says
the bee stings their victim
and dies

keep that in mind
when you take a stab at me

every word you speak of me
is mixed with poison,
but you created it
with your own tongue

though i have tried,
i cannot break open my soul
and share it with you
because there is nothing left
to break

you have given me
so much love
that my two arms
cannot carry it

so i have grown
stronger
to be able to
bear it all

big emotions
leave big footprints

please stay
and please
let me stay.

if everyone likes you,
then you arent living.

i am sorry
that i have cared so much
that i cannot care
anymore

what they dont tell you
is that while traveling
on a one way street
sometimes its best to go
in the opposite direction

you have all of me
and you will not
accept
what i have
given you,
but you will not
give it
back,
either

you only know
how to fight
when no one
else
is around
to make me
lose

seeing you
is like
having a
ghost
walk through me;

i can feel
all of the
memories
off who you
used to be,

but you
arent there -

at least,
not anymore.

pain sharpens pain

she looked out the window
with a sad smile
the image blurred by rain drops
"youre crying just like me"
she whispered

she broke herself open
just to let you in
and all you did was show her
why she shouldnt have

poems that rhyme
arent realistic
because life doesnt
flow that well

if im an optimist,
im naive
if im a pessimist,
im jaded

i took my shirt off
because it still smells like him
and since life is realistic
we dont rhyme

if im an optimist,
im left to fix my own broken stanza
if im a pessimist,
the poem is left unfinished

**** everyone who told me that poems were meant to rhyme

i never kept a diary for long
because i always found myself
ripping out the pages
of the memories that i didnt want to remember.

if my life were a book
ideally
half of the pages would be missing.

if my memory were a song
the melody would be
scrambled
by boughts of abrupt silence.

my skin feels
chafed
by eraser marks
even though erasers do not work on human flesh.

my brain feels
scrambled
by a large black scribble
desperately trying to cover the things i dont want to remember.

i wish to function as a clock
with wind up hands
so that i can tell time where to go instead.

i am ripping out my intestines
like vcr tape.

why are the memories still playing?

i would pour the stars from my irises
if it meant that you could see me
the way that i see you

the words used to flow
so freely from my brain

but then i grew older
the sky became
darker
the galaxy faded
like the peeling bumper stickers on my car

i forgot
what the milky way looked like from here

even if you cannot see me
i am shining
even if i am only an ember
i am reignited

the constellations have been restored
as i look at you
but i am
faded
to you
as the world once was
to me