the day I realize
tears are not all bad
and people
are not all good
is the night I won't
come crawling
like some
sad animal
trapped once again
in a cage with only
you and me

I am a fair skinned insecurity
who was bent by a boy
and broken by another
and now you,
lay flowers at my feet
asking me, how to make it better?
but I don't really think
after all those endless aches
and drunken lustings
for him and for him
it really does
get better

I grind my teeth and clench my fists
and it's not ******* poetic
it's something I do because I can't
believe I'm alone
I'm always alone
and you can take your depression
and your desperation
and make words flow like wine
but I can't put me
doing 80 in a 30
screaming at nothing
my stomach shooting
bullets through my brain
in a book I bound myself
and call that
******* poetry
this isn't poetry
and it's not pretty
because I'm not pretty
I'm putting myself on the line
at 12 and then hanging up
because I lost my voice
doing 80 in a 30
2 hours before I shot myself
for thinking
it could all be different

"a miracle baby"
my mother must have said
when I arrived in her arms
and I was happy
"a miracle, baby"
is what I said
when he asked how
I didn't die from all the pills
and I was so unhappy

Saturday night I told you I was yours
Monday you said everything was fine
Wednesday morning I blamed myself
for the love I couldn't forget
Thursday night I drove to your house
but I didn't go in
because Friday I remembered how
you broke me in 5 pieces
and expected me to reassemble
just to wake back up
Saturday morning and tell you
it was okay that we didn't have another
Saturday night