then hers*
                   are windows made of
                                                        ice,
              glistening with wetness melting in the
                                                             ­         sun


opening her eyes for the first time in the morning,


her soft brown lashes brush against her
                                                             ­        lids
with the softness of
              a *fresh fallen snow canopy bed
                             made just for her

When she looks at you              (remember to breathe)


(it's like she can see all of your mistakes, everything you hate about yourself)



you feel the world
grow hazy around her
the ground falls away
from under your feet

But her eyes are windows
that let all the weather in (leaving her cold&wet;)

if you stare into them long enough,

                                        you'll see the storm

                                                          ­                inside

your summers
of happiness and ***

remind me of mine.

long drives with boys i loved
cigarettes and sweat
and ***
literally every day, sometimes for hours.
Usually for hours.
Sometimes four hours.



;reminds me of my boy with greyblueblack eyes
and my boy with the hairy toes (two years of lovelovelove
and the boy that played me guitar, always letting me sing
to him

and
the boy that ****** me
and ****** me over
and kissed me
to keep from freezing
inside his cold life



and then of course
there's the boy



with those beautiful hands

that haunt me
now


trying to fall asleep
i imagine his arms around me

his hands
his glorious slender hands
in my hair
that he thinks is so pretty

(breathing into my neck)

that thought is enough to get me to sleep every night
now that sleeping has become difficult to do.


i love your little stories
of her back
-skin dancing in the sun
of windows
softly
creeping through the curtains




Man, the way you must have loved her

this year,
i will not kiss anyone
that i don't want to kiss.

i will not let people grind up on my ***
in clubs
if i am not interested.

when my heart races and falls, dead
into the sea of stomach acid
I will scream no
at the top of my lungs

so that you will hear me, for once

I will value
myself
and what i want.


I will actually learn
what i want
and chase it

like horses in
a meadow
running

because they have the most beautiful freedom to do so.


**i will stop being afraid
of hurting you

because, ******

you hurt me too.

your heartache
your heartbreak
your -getting ****** over by some girl that thought she loved you
is so familiar
it's dangerous.




your stories
of hurting people
and calling the cops
and punching idiots waving their ***** around
make me scared of you
in the best way.


you get me

because we feel the world
through the same
(sc)a/rr\e/d skin.

so when the broken glass
gets too much to handle

and the fluorescent lights
are buzzing like ******* bees
crawling all over me
keeping me from sleep


i'll take your advice
and punch holes in the walls

of this ******* life

*I won't take it anymore.

These poems are all about girls like me
the type of girl
that makes you think you're the one, the absolute one
covering your weathered face with kisses
telling you
-you can stay as long as you like.

girls like me


we ******* over
in the end.

we begin by letting you fall for us
when we're not interested.

then we become a little bit attached
to you
enough that we feel guilty
when we leave you

and we're weak
without you
so we beg for forgiveness

and we keep you hanging around

until we find someone
good enough
to replace you.


if that isn't the most ****** up thing i've ever heard

you never deserved any of this


i can't take it back
i can't take it back



regrets

fill me
freeze my insides
like a minnesota lake

i have no excuses

                              i traded them for
                                                  a million "i'm sorrys"


stabbing me in the heart

prodding at my limp wrists

asking me


"are you dead yet, you stupid girl?"




I want to hurt myself
for hurting you



so here's a shovel
here's some rope
tie me to the back of your car
drag me
back to mankato

standing outside
bitter cold
eats at my ears
and fingers



when i hurt myself
the way i hurt you

when your pain
becomes my pain
                                                             this is the only way i know how to fix it




                 frostbite
                          tastes like forgiveness

I lie in bed
(the one you never got to see-
thank god)

i think to myself

I'll just write until it goes away.


and i think about how

you are probably asleep in
your bed at home

150% oblivious to
how i just

wept one billion
        tears
for absolutely no reason.

Maybe they were for you
maybe they were out of anger
Maybe I was putting on a
dramatic show
                            for my one and only spectator
:

the knife sitting in the kitchen.