This pen bleeds on this page.
I grow older every day I age
and I'm not sure I like the way

that he looks at me when
he's confused.
Boy, I don't have all the
answers.

I read books
      to figure out where I'm
  heading

  and i lack the capacity
to explain to you
                   where i've been.

So I'm sorry
that after we make love
in your room that smells like
a basement, I don't
want to talk about
all of my past boy-lovers
because- and this must
be hard for you to understand, --
they    *****     me.
So when we're lying naked
in your dorm room
mattress
(that we put on the floor,
somehow thinking that it
creates more space for
us), I'm sorry.
Don't feel like I don't
talk to you about anything
Maybe I can't tell you
because I have spent my
whole life trying to erase
it from my head

I tried to lose it
but i'm just
losing you.

I could tell you in a
poem. But i just
can't write anymore
because this ink
looks like black blood
and i'm so sick
of cutting myself open
for other people.
This page is bleeding
because
     ****.
I need to bleed
                      to feel.

        I remember when I was 14
and i watched the bathtub
water turn red- i would
smile at the crimson flowing
like some sort of sign from
God that I was alive
and now, I love it when
I get bruises.
or when I cry
because it means that I'm alive
and it's not socially acceptable
to remind myself anymore.
I have scars
      so i smoke cigars
  and i get high when
I inhale. and you're not
supposed to inhale. But i
always do because i
don't just want to taste
smoke in my mouth.
I want to float
    away.
I want to feel
    again.
I want to lay on
a cold bathroom floor
and feel safe and
   protected by the locked
      door
while I watch a small
red puddle
form
on the tiles.

you made love to me under the moon

the wisps of your hair sticking
to your forehead

and our muffled lovemoans
just barely reaching past our lips

the grass was so soft.


you made love to my body under the moon

the wooden chimes on your porch clocking against each other,
a crisp hollow sound


you were just a little bit tipsy
from 6 beers
and buzzed from the nicotine
our breath

matching and climbing

our tongues
tasted like smoke

i love this memory

because it was the most spontaneous,
wonderful thing i could have ever dreamed up.

nervous, yet the world was so calm around us

while the owls in the trees
and the moon

watched,

you made love to me
that summer night

in your backyard

i was lying awake last night
thinking about how i'm scared of being alone.

and i thought,
"being alone is just being by myself"


i'm scared of being with myself?

i'm scared of being in a room
with myself?



why?

it seemed so silly
to be afraid when i thought of it that way.


i decided i'm just going to not think about being alone.

and think more about being with myself.

thank you.

you know me so well
and you know that my past
has been filled with a lot of mistakes

like an open umbrella sitting outside in the rainstorm,
the only thing weighing me down is the rain i've caught
without these mistakes, i'd simply blow away in the cold wind.

you know me inside and out.
we spent countless moments in each other's arms
in your warm comfort and wise words.

you made me feel amazing.


you
are
the one
person

who could truly change me.


you knew who i was.
you knew who i wanted to be

and without knowing,
you helped me become that person.


you helped me understand who i am.
i'm the girl that plays ukulele
and writes poetry
and does amazing things for women.


i don't know how my life would like if you had never walked into it
i have an idea, yes.
but i don't care to describe it here
for fear
it would upset you.


i will never be the same.
i will never ever go back to
who i was

before i met you.


and for that,

i could thank you
a million times
with cheek kisses and a lifetime of happiness

but it would never be enough.

so thank you.
**thank you for being a part of my life.

i have no plan whatsoever.

it's not loneliness that scares the **** out of me.
it's the idea that i actually have to face the world now.
i have to work.
and if i get fired, i have to cry (alone) and find a new job.



i needed someone to take care of me.
i needed someone to cushion me if i ever were to fall.

cuz us girls, we're taught that the world is ******* scary.
and that men have it all together.

really, we're just pairing up with the smart kids for the science project because we don't want to fail the class.

instead of realizing that we are the smart kids.
we could do the science project all by ourselves, if we wanted.

i told myself, i don't need a man.

i was lying to myself.

i couldn't even picture my future without someone beside me.

we're told as girls,
someday, a prince will come rescue you.
and you just gotta wait for your prince.


so i got into nice n' easy relationships hoping that it would eventually turn into true love
and in the meanwhile, they would fall for me
and take care of me like i was a child.

if i ever cried, i had someone to hold me.

always.

and for some reason, i thought that made it all better.

it doesn't.

i jumped around, from prince to prince
hoping that it would eventually turn into happily ever after.

knowing that i was too weak to handle the real world by myself.
do i have a life plan?

no. my plan was to find someone to make a life for me.

now i'm straggling behind,
while others were doing hard work at school and making friends and building relationships
i was sitting in a corner with you, fiddling with our priorities.

i don't know what i'm doing with my life.

but i sure as hell am not going to sit around and wait for some prince to scoop me off of my pathetic ***.

every day all i can do is get out of the castle and
get on my black horse

and go.

i cried so hard i thought my heart would fall out of my chest in a bleeding beating lump of an ***** onto the ground. my tears watering the ground and my voice screeching
screaming for you to hold me and kiss me again. it feels like the pain has become me. it has transcended being just pain, it has become a tangible thing that i could extract and put into something else, but i can't find a container big enough or the right shape so it pours and pours and pours and pours out onto the floor and into this poem and into my old scars and i can't hold it and i can't hold it in
so it pours and it pours and i cry, i cry for you, and i miss your lovely touch and the kindness that you put into me and taught me how to be me. i hope you never regret anything because i'll never regret it. this poem isn't for me anymore. this poem is for you. i'm weak, remember? if this is hard for you, it's excruciating for me. repeat. i can't hold it in. you feel me. you felt who i was. you know me inside and out. you've touched and seen every corner of my body, you've explored the depths of my soul. even the parts that are harder to look at, you've seen them. you've looked at them and told me that they are beautiful. that word feels alien to me. beautiful doesn't exist anymore. beautiful was meeting your grandmother. beautiful was how i felt when we sat on that couch drinking coffee and tea and talking and watching people and listening to music that made me feel things. i wish i knew how to have everything i want. i wish i knew how to make me love you. if i knew how, this wouldn't be happening. and i could be everything for you, just like you always wanted. but i don't know how. but you should know that you taught me how to be me. you should know that i have never felt more beautiful than when i was crying on your couch the day we really said our goodbyes. and i want you to know that when you held me, i was so sorry for all of the hurt i had poured into you. i never meant to do that. i meant to just pour it out onto the floor, to keep my beating bleeding heart company.

i was feeling empty, lost
without you.

on days when you were far away or busy
i didn't know what to do with my free time.

i would sit and feel strange.
i would miss you;
not used to alone-ness.
never wanting to get used to alone-ness.
I was afraid of free time.
I was afraid of silence.
I was afraid of myself and the thoughts that sit in my own head.

I wanted someone to take care of me

these past few days though,

i've been finding things to occupy my time.
yes, i cry a lot.

but
last night i played music.
and i danced alone, in my room.
like i did when i was a kid.

and today, i got some work done.
i'm eating right.
i'm reading a book that i never had time for before.
i'm playing music again.

i'm taking care of myself.

and now i'm writing some poetry.

yes, i cry a lot.
yes, i miss you.


but i'm starting to be okay.
i'm learning.



i'm starting to learn who i am,
what i like to do.

i'm figuring it out.



and i'm realizing that i'm not just surviving anymore.
i'm living

and i am so glad that i'm giving myself that chance