you're not my pen
you're my paper
you're not my heart
you'll be its breaker

i'm not sorry for drawing
i'm sorry for scrawling
i'm not sorry for calling
but i'm sorry for falling

I remember the mornings,
Where I'd wake early.

I remember the days,
Hot with the sun's rays.

I remember the evenings,
Catching fireflies in mason jars.

I remember the nights,
Crisp and clear. Stars shining beautifully.

Oh how I wish I can remember when I was happy.
When will I be able to go back to the simpler days?

The first time you hear
"Beauty is pain"
Is when your mother is brushing tangles
Out of your hair
You're too young to care

The next time
Is when you're getting your hair done
For an event
Bobby pins everywhere
And this time it sticks

Your legs sting
After you shave them
For the first time
But you remind yourself
Beauty is pain
And go on with your day

You remind yourself again
As you pluck hairs
From your eyebrows
It helps you somehow

Beauty is pain
Your stomach growls
You haven't eaten
Because you want to be skinny
You want to be pretty

Beauty is pain
Is all you hear
When you walk into surgery
To change your face

Beauty is pain
Lingers in the back of your mind
When your boyfriend hits you
For the first time

One day you look in the mirror
All you see is pain
You wonder how it ended up this way

I hear them.
Loud and clear
Calling my name
From deep within the bitter darkness
The place I used to call home
Is suddenly being held hostage
Trapped and alone
I release a sound
Foreign to my tongue for
It hasn't been spoken
In months
Too painful to say
Too painful to hear
My heart can't bare
Anymore pain
For it might break
In a million more pieces
The heart can only take so much
As I begin to shake
The words I've been trying
To say to you
Escape from my mouth
Faster than the speed of light
Foreign to my tongue
Unable to be contained
For they have been
For way too long
I love you.
I miss you.
I hate you.
I can't stand you.
I want you.
I need you.
Get away from me.
Go somewhere else.
Don't leave me again.
Stay with me.
You saved me.
But you broke me.
Into more than a million pieces
Crushed me
Left me broken
Stepped on my heart
You broke me
But I love you
I really love you
All I see is the dark
I am surrounded by dark
Not a single shred
Of light escaping
My body
I guess I have you
To blame for turning
My soul
Darker than night.

I don't exist in a realm where I see myself.

I live in a world of flashing images,
Only some of which I have control over.

I'm drifting through the moments,
Trying my best to float back to you.

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may **** me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

My tired eyes cry
My weary body lies
And why do my tears
Think they cannot dry?

Shaky hands and nervous throat
Exhausted heart, this stimulated soul
They ridiculously wait, day after day,
For a break from sorrow, a thing called hope.

How is it that I can live, but it is the hardest thing I ever did?

© Melissa Carlson 2016