don't have *** with somebody you're not in a relationship with,
they all say.


            it gets messy.

hearts get torn apart
                                 when the pumping
leads to a sense of attachment
          and a feeling
                      of being used.

Don't have *** unless you're in love.

I thought it
didn't apply to me.

because i'm supposed to be
the heart-breaker

        Never let anyone too close.

or they'll run away when
they figure out who
I really am

but the ***
  

when the skin
is wet with perspiration
                 and hair is in your
mouth, licking moist
thighs, so excited

and afterward
you want to tell them
                                             your secrets.


but your secrets hold so much power



and they run away
faster than you can say

                                  

                              thanks for the ****

it's amazing
                        that you
never notice
            how much you think
about someone
                    until
it hurts to think about
         them

and lately, my heart hurts
       every few minutes
I'm filled with confusion
and heartache

because i wasn't given an explanation
and it feels as though

you are trying to ****
yourself off in my
mind

                            but you are not dead

and you can't fool me
          into feeling
lost without you

        because i will find you again

                           if you will
                               find me.

on a lonely day
on a lovely day


the clouds overhead are promising rain

i'm just waiting
for the water to pour from the sky

so that i might dance in it.

to shed one's own skin
is a painful process

letting go of something that was once a part of you
makes you question your existence in the world

who am i

i peel this layer of skin away
leaving paper thin paper white patches all over this house

the skin underneath is red and raw

in some places, i peeled away too much
and the skin bleeds

but the pink flesh is so beautiful

I am so beautiful

i have removed and discarded the shell of me
i will start anew

skin replenishes itself
and i will be a new person

but

i will also be me



the skin will fall away and grow back
and
this new skin will be untouched

by you


but for some reason
no matter how much skin is peeled away,

these scars are always visible


i desperately search for ways to speed up this process

to change into a new person
a person who knows how to be content

a person who has never known you,
and therefore will never miss you




but as it is,
my body is bleeding
my hair falls out in clumps

and my heart aches
for you

underneath these broken ribs

loneliness
grips me by the heart
and squeezes me into a pulpy mass
of tissue and blood

dripping

because you're miles and miles away from here

and i am scared
of spending time with other people
in case you finally decide to call

so i stay in,
watching the rain make the grass greener
sipping some coffee
watching some tv
writing some poetry

watching that pulpy mass grow mold
                                    it is in the corner of my house,
                              i'm trying not to look at it.

i'm trying to ignore the loneliness


but i'm hurting.
my throat is choked
and i haven't worn make-up in days (what's the point
it just comes off when i cry)

but you,
you have the sweetness
and the kindness
when you wrap yourself around me,
i feel like home

but
you're
miles

and miles

away.

my mind


is ten different shades of ****** up


confusion and hurt run through my veins and take over my life


i'm not keeping track of time anymore.
I have no idea when this started or if I have the will to end it


i want to be near you
but my heart is going back to being numb

and i'm going back to being okay with it.


but i've got two weeks
to be weak


and then i can start to get over you
and i can begin again

i can begin my journey to strength
but i know
i know what that will look like

it looks like an act
i put on a show
and pretend that i'm happy
that i'm ******* **great
but i have no idea how to be happy



no idea at all




i just know how to fix these temporary problems by getting drunk off my ***
calling you

and then throwing up.

and then waking up the next morning next to you
naked

wondering what the **** happened and
why i did that

right when i thought i was strong again


i gotta be stronger

and i don't know where to start
because my soul
is missing a lot of its pieces
and it's too hard to go chasing after them

so i'll just let them go
and pretend that i'm okay


because if i pretend long enough,
maybe i'll start to believe it

Let me explain something to you.

When you look at me
with your soft ocean blue eyes,
and you look into my soul
and you can see all the hurt
and all the lies
that i have been telling myself to get me by

I want to cry. I want you to hold me.

No one else.

And when I give in to that need,
and the hot tears fall into my lap,
I just can't help it.

They just come
when you're near me.

And I don't understand it
i don't understand myself
and i don't understand how i feel about you.

Because when I let those tears fall,

to me, they feel like weakness
that somehow managed to leak out of my eyes
because I'm keeping too many secrets

and the biggest one
is that

I love you
and I want to keep you in my life.

But I don't want to sound selfish

So I make do, never taking the time
to explain to you
that all I wanna do

is let you hold me.

Because this weakness- you turn it into strength.

And, as ****** up as my past is,

you took the time

                                 to learn how to love me.

But I still
can't stand

for you
to see me cry.

Every gorgeous living day
I feel alive
          When I wake up.
I look around when I walk
I don't stare at my shoes.
There are pigeons that coo
           from the roof of the
library,        purring happily
                            from the height
I look up at them with
                       a smile on my face
fully knowing
         knowing fully
                           that people
are "staring" at me
         because I'm smiling
into the sky with my
head thrown back.

And I pass lovely people
who are fully unaware

that they are unique.
that they are truly worth
     something.

But other days, I pass 20
different people
        and I feel as though
I have just passed

             the same person
                      20 times.

This town is a bubble.
         I hate that I'm
the only ******* person
that loves those pigeons.

I need someone
         anyone

to show me that they're alive

:that they're not too
           BUSY

to appreciate the fact that
the air they're breathing
        is clear like a wine class
                      and that the sky is a gorgeous
metallic shiny brand new blue

I need someone who
         will

prove it to me.

                  Prove to me that they deserve to
walk around
on this ground.

While they
don't write poetry
don't feel much
don't contribute

                               because they're
                                    too BUSY.

**** BUSY people.

I want to meet people

that appreciate that
they're alive.
I want to meet people

        that scream
                 laugh
                           cry
                      love

People who pick up trash on the street

People who spend time reading books to kids

People who sew their own clothes

People who clap at the end of a great movie and stay until all the credits have rolled

People who will look up
                   when they hear
                           the library pigeons.

I wish I could travel back in time
   to meet my 13 year old self
and tell that confused
                         gorgeous child
to run away.

Run away, pretty girl
run away from the boys that
are trying to use your body

Run away from that razor
run away from that bottle of pills
and do your best, use all of your will
to stop that soul from aching
without needing to bleed.

You don't have to
fix anyone.
You just have to survive.

Run away from that screaming
                  in your head.
Drown it out with poetry
                             and music
until you either
lose your hearing
or
you lose yourself
in sweet soul feeding spreading goodness

Run away from your father
                     until he learns how
                        to love you.


Run away from those girls
until you are strong enough
to realize that they're
so wrong about you.

Run away, gorgeous girl
Run away from all the
people that have hurt you

Run away from all the people that want you to fix them
Just take a deep breath and realize that you can't fix anyone but yourself

Run away from the guy who can't commit to you
Run away from that ****** up kid that wants to put his fingers inside you
Run away from that girl that calls you fat

Run away from your own ****** feelings

You're just not old enough to deal with them yet
No one should have to deal with that

Not you, you gorgeous scared little thirteen year old.

I think maybe,
      
                           just maybe
if I could tell her that

that maybe I wouldn't
                      feel so ****** up
                                  today.

because no 13 year old knows
            how to deal
                      with the things I
                                faced when I
          was 13 years old.

and no 20 year old woman knows how to fix the scars from a ****** up past, one
that has damaged this skin, damaged that ability to trust, damaged damaged damaged ****** up that ability to let somebody in, damaged this heart so much that it's forgotten how to feel, turned off those feelings because they never lead to good things, damaged the part of me that knew how to be happy. damaged the part of me that had hope. damaged and ****** it all up beyond repair.

Because I tried for years to
keep my head above water
only to realize
             that I drowned a
long time ago
                
and I think
it might be too late

to pull myself out

of this black lake
of self infliction
and pain addiction
and
give myself

a chance at living.

this feels so new york
listening to smooth jazz
        drinking wine and coffee
in your room with the
                     hard floors
and the
                 soft bed

and hearing you say words like
                   fantastic
                                                and
                  i'm not tired

we stay up until 2 am,
me in a cocktail dress and heels,
you in a tux

and honey, we're running
          on central time.

in New York, it's only midnight.

remember when we were teenagers

and you smoked *** and
i cut myself


and your mom hated me
because i'm an atheist

and how in love we were
and how much you made my heart beat

and how we used to make love
at any given second that we could have alone

because our bodies felt like they were meant to fit together


and then i moved away

and i broke up with you
because
you didn't have this list of things i thought i deserved
like a job
a loving family
a good college education
good spelling
a desperate searching want to get out of this ******* place and be something better than you were.


i was selfish
to let you go

but

god, i loved you.
if i have ever been so sure of something in my life,

it was that i loved you.

my mouth is so full of questions

did you ever love me?
or did you love the things i represent?

did you just love the fact that i'm independent, that i'm a feminist, that i write poetry, that i like video games, that i have a nice smile?
did i give you a clear vision of a future, of where we would live in a perfect little teacup house with our perfect little children

or did i make your heart thump?
did i ever actually make you feel things?

did you ever see something so beautiful that there were no words to describe it
but you wanted so badly to try anyway

not so you could tell someone that you had that experience
but just because it made you feel something




did you want me to meet your grandmother because you wanted to spread love and joy in all directions?
or because you saw a future with me
a future wife
and you wanted to be able to say to your perfect future children
that I had met your grandmother
and I could vouch for you
when you said she was great

was it all just a metaphor

i'm so confused

because you
you say that you loved me
but now i don't think that either of us knew what the **** that meant.

we had *** in the shower, pressed up against each other like some **** movie
******* each other, searching frantically for ******

when,
if we really loved each other

we would have been just fine
making love in a bed, kissing each other sweetly




but then again

i don't really know.
does anyone really know

i mean really know when they're in love

or do we all just think we are


because love is such a big scary thing
that
no one can see it.
maybe i'm projecting.

maybe this is all just how i felt
and how i could never tell you
that i wanted to make myself feel something

but, it's a problem that i've had for a long time.
i can't ever make myself feel anything.


because it's like a high

and i don't want to feel numb anymore

why do i have such a desperate screaming want need to plunge into something
and yet
how do i even begin to do it in a healthy way
without hurting myself, hurting him, hurting you, hurting me

because you gave my heart a beat
that's a scary thought.
is it too soon
is it right
is the time right
is this right
my soul is so confused
and it wants so many answers

all i know
is that you gave my heart a beat.


it's a good measure of how much you like someone
when you forget that time exists and that
the world is still turning
at four in the morning

and you're still writing poems and breathing in
and out
listening to your heart beat


and you are completely ready to risk
your whole heart
and a whole lot of pain and suffering
just because you like
where this might be heading.


you can go to sleep tonight,
knowing that you gave my heart a beat.

which is something i gave up on a long time ago

we are kind of a new kind of brand of cool

if we had gone to the same high school
i would have had a crush on you because you play piano

and you would have had a crush on me because
you always secretly thought that weird girls are hot and interesting

but we never would have spoken
because you would have been too afraid that your friends would have disapproved

and i would have thought that you were stuck up and not worth my time


and we would have been so mean to each other




isn't it wonderful the way that life works out sometimes.
it's really hilarious, when you think about it.

and by that i mean
i am in complete awe of you.

and that's probably why i get quiet when i'm around you.
my brain shuts down
the only ***** in my entire body that works anymore is my heart
the beat quickens and
i can hear my own thump thump
desperately wanting to hold you close enough
so you can hear it, too

blood pumping to my fingertips,
wrapped around whatever i can get a hold onto
to keep from falling---

I get quiet around you
because
i am too engrossed in the feelings that you inject into me,
when you speak
when your gorgeous ruined torn up fingers scatter themselves across piano keys

just the sound of your voice
it seems to resonate in my ears


and i can't help but feel as though my heart might explode
from all the beauty i have stumbled across
in this otherwise, very lonely terrifying world

I'm turning this **** around right now.

Valentine's day is about love.
It's not about whether you've got someone to hug and kiss.

It's about making mix CDs.
It's about having someone smile at you in the hallway on your way to class.
It's about calling your grandma.
It's about giving a little extra when you've got enough to live on.


It's about spreading love;

not worrying that you didn't receive enough.



so get off your ***.
go love someone.

You only get this excuse once a year
to do something perfectly wonderful
for another human being.

I'm angry

and I don't really know why.

I think it's because you're angry
and I'm so used to feeling how you feel
good and bad

because we used to hold each other
when I cried that one day
after finding out I didn't get that job
or when I felt like a failure.

you held me
you held me up.

you would kiss me and inject your strength into my mouth through your lips
and I would feel
invincible
because you were there next to me.


but now I'm angry
because you're angry.

and I have been trying to fix everything like you used to fix me
i want to pick you up off the floor
and
hold you in my arms

and kiss your forehead
and tell you it's okay.

even if it's a lie
and even if kissing you would be the worst thing i could do.

i want to inject that strength back into you
because now,

i think you could use it more than i could.

What do you want me to do?

**** all your ******* memories
   burn all these ******* poems


I'm walking on eggshells
       over here
terrified that one miss-step
will send us both
over the edge of that
            cliff

So what do you want me to tell you?

That I abused you
        that I ****** you
that I ruined you

You want me to lie to you
baby, I will.

And I'll tell you that
everything meant nothing

and that I
     just love playing sick
                                games.

I'm sure it's easier to
       believe that

                         than the truth


because the truth is

                                                        I loved you

                                                    to the best of my
          
                                                             ability.



it just wasn't enough

                             for either of us

let's just call this a suicide note

                  because that's
           what it should be.

If I was still who I
           was
                          a month ago

then there would be
     slits up this wrist
and an empty bottle in
       this fist

But instead I can
appreciate
                    that I don't
have more scars.

You can't just pluck
the pieces of me
                       out of
                                   your life
like a game of operation

You can't just **** the poison out
because i am not a snake
and I didn't bite you.

Maybe this is like chemo.
             It's painful
                                and difficult

but it makes things better

and eventually your
                         hair grows back

and you'll be (more or less)

just how you were

                         before

I can't read them anymore.

I can' t read my own poems
                     because they

make me

                 want to hurt myself

I know that you've read them.

And they've caused you pain.
       So lately,
                          I've gone
back
               to where I was

To who I was

a panicky guilty person

with a soul that aches to
         bleed
                       because I never learned
how to just fix things.


I only ever knew

how to **** myself
         over to even the
score.

At this point
                I feel as though

I've ****** up your whole life.

        I've taken all the pleasure
out of every moment.

      I want to run blades

      across my wrists.

            The feeling is so strong

I want to do it, for once
not to make myself feel

        but to make you
better.

                     why
why                                 why


why    why why do i want

to hurt myself.


Why am I so ****** up.


why.


                    why do i always hurt
                               everyone around me


               why     why    why

                              does my heart scream

When you achieve perfection
                      in your own
sense of self

           you will never again
   need      to
                         seek it out


in other people.

I loved what we had
      I loved being near you

the warmth gone from your feet
       but radiating from your chest

into my cheek, pressed
                              into you


love                 love              love
                  affection
              ­                   so readily available

I never needed to seek it out
      I was never lacking it


we used to laugh

                but it's been replaced
with silence and tears

I wish I could say something
to you. I wish you would
say something back.

I'm unsure,
                  shaky
I step onto this bridge
                         shivering, uncomfortable

Leaving what I always knew
                        trekking to a new
        place,
                        uncharted territory


this bridge seemed short when
                           I first set foot on it


Now that my vision is no longer
                                      blurry

i can see that it goes on
             for
                          miles

            I can't turn back.

your voice is a low rumble
        that pushes over waves
of everything else

Your laugh sticks out

                    it calms me
                  
                                       because it means
                                                    you're near.




shut up shut up shut up

I'm so worried that I'll
never find anyone
that is as good to me
as you    were.
I'm worried that all of
my future relationships will
all be for the wrong reasons.

I'm worried that I made
up all these things
that were wrong with
our relationship.

I'm worried that you were
perfect for me
           and I ****** everything up

Like I always do

                         with everything.

two days ago

      I was looking at old pictures
on my camera

             and I found one of Us
you, puckered up ready to kiss

and me, smiling and happy.

I pressed delete


"This photo cannot be deleted."

My camera doesn't want to
     get rid of you.

and I'm not sure I
want to either.

If I could have one
wish and make it
   come true,

I'd make myself be
in love with you.

it would be so easy.
I wouldn't have to lie to
     you.
              I could hold you
and give you comfort

I wouldn't miss your
body all the time.

But I don't have any wishes.

I only know how to work hard


at being strong,

                           and work on
learning and loving myself.

it has become
incredibly important

that I figure out
who I am.

and I guess, I can
only start with who
I'm not.

       I'm not going
to be someone that
uses people.
    which means I can
never go back to you.
as much as I want
to.
        because it's easy.

do you ever
think that

maybe we were just too different

to be meant for each other?


i believe in souls.
you are stuck in the mud of being clearheaded and logical

i write poetry
you get frustrated trying to get words to rhyme

i try to fill up this hole in my heart
you never had a hole to begin with

i have scars on my wrist
you tried to fix it because it felt wrong

i have so much hurt in my heart
and you



...
and you

and

well
i guess you do too.

i can't believe i didn't see what i had done to you. this
is more

this is more than just your average heartbreak.


i ****** you over,
my darling.

when did this happen...
?

                        when i wasn't looking?



i turned away from you,
focusing on my own life

           trying so hard to fix what we both know has always been broken


                                         neglecting
you\


in the process



                          oh honey

oh,
puppy.


you are so strong
and you will hold on

you will make it out of this


because i made it out of my whole life.

i somehow survived.

i slit my wrist for the first time
when i was 12

still just a kid.

i smoked *** for the first time
when i was 13.

still just a confused little kid.

i let someone put their **** in me for the first time
when i was 13

still just a ****** up confused little kid

tried to **** myself for the first time
when i was 13

still just a ****** up confused angry little kid


if i could survive that

you will survive
this.

your strength

it emanates from your gorgeous hands.
and pulses through your veins.

your eyes
were big blue water pools

last night.


i was so happy-
                         ****** up-
                                      weak-
                         strong -
                                confused-
                                        empty-
                                                         cold-
                                                                            shaking-
                                                                                                       wanting

wanting to kiss you
happy to fix you

****** up in my own head
weak alone in my bed

strong here without you
confused about what to do

empty
because you're not here

cold
because you're not here.

shaking from this panic attack
wanting
to put that gun in my mouth

and pull the trigger





bang.

listen up, *******.

The last time I saw you,
a year ago,
I was weak.

The sight of you
made me sick to my stomach.

Terrified of who you made me,
into some pathetic girl
that needed someone

that needed to

be loved by someone
anyone.

Terrified that I would become who you wanted me to be:

The girl that would rather let someone tear her soul apart
than be alone




But I am not that girl.

**** no,

I'm not.

Things have changed since you saw me last, *******.

I am too gorgeous
and too strong
too independent
too energized
too spiritual
too funny
*too loved

to let you mess with my head
or my heart
again.

naked after a shower


i sit, my knee
pulled my chest


my chin resting there

then, my lips kiss the little mountain peak i have created

brushing against
my soft skin

i reach up, feel the back of my neck

fragile in my fingertips

                      with my other hand
                 i touch the dark red curls

in between my warm legs, covered in soft blonde hair


i am so in love with my body

and my own yogurt
                                scent

I'm coming down from my high
I spent all day getting
                         drunk off of
my own loneliness

            so I sit here

sobering up   ,
                               eyes blurred
                                             vision

people pass me
            
                     I pull up my
socks
               straighten my skirt

and avert my gaze

careful not to make eye contact

lest someone see

                       how ****** up
         gorgeous I am.

I read that art is egotistical.

and it is.
        you are saying, "hey. look at
me. I'm actually *******

                 GOOD
                                at something."

and knowing that, it's enough
    to get me through hard
                     ****.

**** writing in a journal.
   my poetry is good.

                      so here you go.

                   enjoy it while it
                                       lasts.

this one is for all of you

One day I watched my sister cry
cry big blue tears from
her big green eyes

and I wanted to take
care of her

the way i could never
      take care of myself

because this black smoke
fills my lungs until
I can't stand up

and i live my life
through the girls that
wear 4 inch band-aids
on their wrists.

I miss it

      and I can't escape
it.

I want to save you
I wanna shake you

I wanna grab your ****** arm
show you what you
did to yourself

              --what you did
                   to me.

*look at what you're doing to me

This is a feeling that
resonates within me

and makes me quiet.
I feel empty
and wanting.

so empty, yet so full
of wanting more.

I know how my life
looks, I know how
I want it to look

and I want you in it.

Maybe I'm just *******
scared of transition

Maybe I've realized
that i'm terrified of
being alone.

So I use people

like teddy bears. I
hold them close,
sleep with them every
night
         sigh into their
soft       fur

               and kiss their paws

But eventually, I throw my bear
                                           to the
garbage.

And I try to sleep
without it, but
the nights are cold
and scary
So I ask Teddy
to come back.
But Teddy's not the
same.

                 Teddy doesn't soothe.


So I get a new bear

never happy


It's this feeling

that resonates in me

that I'll always be here,

with or without a

******* teddy bear

and I should

teach    myself to

feel good,

even when I sleep
                     alone.



                   Is that it?
                          Am I just
                           scared of
                        alone-ness?

scared of the night?


But I feel it in my skin,
in the follicles of my hair,
and behind my teary
           wet eyes

That

          Oneday

I will walk down the
street at night.

Daring someone to
cross my path.

Wearing high heel shoes,


just waiting for someone

                            to fall in love
with my glowing smile

and my radiant hair,

just so I can say,

    "no thank you."

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

my mom said
that this is like someone dying.

and she's right.
because i loved you and cared for you
and i used to spend time with you

and now i can't.
because you're gone.

but the difference between this and death


is that i could make all of this pain go away

in the blink of an eye

i could make this come back alive.

i could pull you close
and whisper that i'm sorry

but it wouldn't solve anything

like a needle filled with lustlovedrugs
i could inject you into me

but it would wear off
and i would be left filled with regret

i could never use you like that.






that would be the worst thing i could do to you.
you'll find someone better for you than i was


i just wish i was that person
and i wish i knew what the **** i'm doing
when i'm not crying

because i miss you.

i miss you so much.
i miss your hands
the hands i used to write poetry about

before i started feeling empty again.


and now i feel alive, but it hurts so bad.


and i want to be near you
and smell your scent
and rub my face against your chest

and feel the skin on your back
against the palms of my hands


and your lips against mine


and that's why i don't want you to read this.

because it means that i'm wrong
and scared
and weak.


but if you read this
you would look at me and tell me that i'm beautiful and strong



and i would just keep being angry at myself.




i just want to stop missing you.
please don't read this.



i miss you.

i want to call you

you're less than a minute away.

i want to tell you that i'm sorry that i can't hold it together

i cry whenever i think of you at all.

i want to cut myself

it's a stupid temporary solution

i want you to hold me

tell me that i'm not a ****** up person

i want you to tell me that everyone feels this way sometimes

come on baby, lie to me


don't tell me that "now's not a good time to talk"

don't tell me that i'll get through this

don't look me in the eyes

because i can't handle you
and all of your strength

when i am weak and on my knees