Some secrets
Ought to be kept alone
Ready to wait
Ready to die
You made me this way

Not once did I flinch
Only did I fear that you

Might try again
Or maybe take things farther. Id
Rather not think about it for
Every time I do, I become                                           *S T R O N G E R

I love that I immediately know that you are mine
with your belly swollen with my textbooks
and throwing up discarded papers.

I love the smell of the alcohol from rotting pears
that fills my nose
when that four month old container falls
onto the floor and explodes into a pungent flame.

I love not being able to get my worn out
book bag into your thin frame
and the music my moans and grunts create.

I love how you resemble a museum
full of old tests and gym shorts
and chip bags and chewn up pencils

I love how you block my view
of the people next to me and
how you always make me late.

         Please don't change
        For God knows I wont make you.

Empathy is like a gray tulip
With its beauty preserved and dried
Careful, don't think
For the petals will fall
And the beauty will be lost
On the ground

You were there when I had my first kiss
Supporting me on that unstable iron fence that
Had been worn away by your work
And your kisses

You gave him tetanus as he leaned
Away, and you filled my lungs with the scent
Of his blood and your breath telling me
You meant to do it

You were on his car as drove him to
The nearest hospital and appeared at the
Bottom of the bed
He sat on

You told me that nothing stays pure

You warned me that he'd change

And now I watch as my blood mingles with you
On my rusted bathtub plug

Attached by a thread
Clinging onto their mother
Last years leaves must leave

Smudges in the sky
Swirling across my fingers
Gateways to heaven