It’s the gutted smile
You threw down on the table
The day the love of your life found
The love of their life.

It’s the anxiety
snaking through you in public spaces.
Strangers’ eyes carving you clean.

It’s the leather jacket
You bought when you were 15
And refuse to take off even in the summer.

It’s his calloused and grease stained hands
Exploring the winding hills
Of your new body.
Scenes from ****** play in your head
As he tells you
You taste like strawberries.

It’s the scorpion sting you iced with snow.

It’s a deep churning in your stomach.
They kind that only appears
When you forget to take your medicine
And you didn’t notice until about 5 minutes ago.

It’s the Atlantic City skyline
Blazing a depressing neon
Over the rest of South Jersey.

It’s trying to write poems out of license plates
And getting into an accident
When you can’t find a rhyme scheme.

It’s scabbed knuckles and
Bodies outlined in scars
Colliding in a ****** big bang.
An entire world unraveling like a red carpet.
We are silver studded starlets
Sinking our heels into the softness.
We are gods.
We were made for this.

I'm really scared of the future;
especially now that time
is running away with my days.
I feel it as
the minutes match my heart beats,
and the seconds fly by
with each breath I take.
And it feels like I'm one step closer
towards some disaster
or another mistake;
that will do more than I planned for,
and bring about a change.

I'm feeling your hands
trickling like sand,
fingertips ticking
across my hour glass hips.
I'm feeling your lips
with its gentle kiss,
tickling my neck
and shoulder bits.
I'm feeling your chest
your heart beating so fast,
a tiny rib cage drum
making its music.
I'm feeling your love
the way it fills me up,
and like a tipping cup
it's too much.

*I'm feeling too much.

Stained.
Like the blood on my hands have dried to a crust.
My heart had thawed but now has freezer burn.
The strands of blonde that were bleached last year.
The words that I won't forget.
Stained.
Like the white dress that has now turned yellow.
The dried candle wax that won't come off the carpet.
Don't love me, or I will become hard.
Don't leave me
Or I will become,
Stained.

I'm in love with the softness of my heart
The way he just thumps with peace
The way he speaks
The way he says "everything is Okay"

I'm in love with my heart
The way he motivates me to continue
The way he pushes me to better things
The way he supports my decisions

I'm in love with my gentle heart
The way he comforts me when I'm messed up
The way he's with me when I feel alone
The way he stays with me when everyone leaves
The way he's there for me

I'm in love with the softness
The gentleness
The peacefulness
Of my heart
Of my very own heart

he never let her wear lipstick
in fear that her kiss
would leave evidence
of their love

I forgot to fill my prescription.
How is it that I always forget something that makes such an impact on my life?
Without it, I am not myself.
or am I more myself?
Who is to say that depression and anxiety aren't characteristics as opposed to mental illness?

A chemical imbalance of the brain.
That's how the doctors describe it.
That's how we describe it,
To make ourselves feel less ashamed.

So I forgot to fill my prescription.
Sometimes I think I forget purposefully.
Is it possible to cautiously make a sub-consous choice?
Cause' I think I might.
I think I do it to make myself feel alive again.
**** being able to "function".
I don't see functioning as living.
I truly feel alive when I allow myself to indulge in the pain.

Treating the emotional agony as something that I shouldn't feel, only makes me feel more ashamed of it.

So instead I indulge.
I don't cry.
I don't cut.
I don't expose.
I indulge in my inner sadness.

It makes me feel like a rebel.
Indulging makes me feel more alive than the actual act of living.
And that terrifies me.

I terrify me.