i have stopped picking my
skin apart, have stopped
trying to pull pieces of
myself off in the hopes
that there is something
better underneath.

It's unjust of me
to expect people in my life
to match how I write them down
in poetry

You said sadness is just a phase and I tried to believe you  
But like all the words you gave me wrapped in flowers
Soon withered and died along with the words that once spoke true
You said that emptiness is just a phase
Like all the mundane things we did when we were young
I will forget how it feels like to be so hollow that I can feel the wind going through me
But see, I never forgot about the mundane things you and I did
In fact, they’re the ones I remember the most
And to this day, no matter how many sweaters I wear
I still feel so cold as if I just swallowed the iceberg that sank the Titanic
Along with the ship full of people awaiting their deaths
And Jack and Rose
You said that this is for the best  
And when I asked why, you said my questions are just a phase
And you changed the topic so fast as if I never brought it up
It’s been 678 days and I haven’t got the ‘because’ to that ‘why’
And I’m still living in this phases that should’ve been over by now according to Science
I still hear your voice saying ‘it’s just a phase’ and I’m still trying to believe you
I can’t stop believing in you because I don’t want to wake up one day
At 4am with a heavy heart, realizing the fact that
for you, I was just a phase too.

I like how my lips
fit that hollow
by your collar bone

I could sing an anthem there
or whisper sweet
sweet nothings.

The first act of creating oneself is nearly impossible. Being that they must ***** the very plinth upon which all creating is later done–all plinths themselves been built on ever prior ones.

I'll start breathing again
& release this exhale
From the hell that it came from
Like swallowing nails
I inhaled every smell
And like fire it stunk
I was a tree
You were mean
How you burned down my trunk
But it's done
It's all done
I'm not worried about you
& the noise that you made
drilling holes in your truth
I'm not stressed out or cold
I'm not bitter or sad
What we had was an accident
Now it's gone & I'm glad
I can stand up with excellence
I got you off of my back
Like I lost 1000 pounds
That I never want back

I can feel it in my hands
simmering deep in my stomach
I'll be 26 and have just lost
the 5th "love of my life"
so I'll grab a knife,
then decide a shot to the head
instead
or I'll be 32
with a newborn
and a happy home
but something in me won't work
so I'll take a whole bottle of Vicadin
determined to leave but
not make a mess
or I'll be 55
looking back on a life
an exwife, a long road of
forgotten dreams
then put a noose 'round my neck
and jump
hung from a second story porch beam
I don't want to **** myself
but I feel it in my hands
simmering in my stomach
clawing at my ribs
a self wrought end
to a laughing kid
who I think died
a long, long time
ago