I want to stop writing about him
But I see him everywhere.
In the eyes of every teen boy
With a bad haircut and
A V-shaped smile,
And big eyes,
And a scruffy chin.
I get the memory of it on my neck,
And his hands on my chest,
And then wandering,
I couldn't write this a month ago,
I'm trying to be okay with it,
I'm trying to not be afraid of it,
I'm trying not to be afraid of him
I avoid him at all costs but
I get to class late and
I can't stop thinking
About the day he looked at me
And he smiled
And I felt special.
And I find myself wishing,
I found myself thinking,
I could have left it all then.

I want to stop hearing my voice
In everything I write.
I used to not hate it so much,
But every time I talk,
It's too high,
It's too girly,
It's too something or other,
I just want
To hear the voice
Of a boy

to me,
you are
an art

                              to you,
                              I was
                              a tragedy

and in the quiet...



                    in the quiet, we are fine

(read forward, then backward, line by line)

I ran.
Not knowing what else to do
There was so much blood on my hands
It was mine
The kitchen knife
Caught in my chest
Guilt
Consumed by
Fear
I was heightened by
Adrenaline
But running on
Wasn’t enough
While trying to stay calm,
Losing control
It was me that would end up
Dead. Because
He was
In front of me
The whole time
It was too late
Trapped
I found myself
Locked in chains
My fate was
Death.

may 24, 2017
last suicide attempt
everyone blamed you
it was him
he hurt you
why do you even talk to him still?

you were never the reason
you broke up with me that night
and i snapped
the only thing that kept me happy
left
and i had
zero reason to
live

it was never your fault...

It took me seven years
to realise
the words in my mind
were too deep for
my mouth to dig up
I thought it was easier
to open my skin
and let the truth
pour down my arms

It took me seven years
to realise
nobody should be allowed
to touch parts
of your home
or hold pieces  
of your heart
that you don't yet understand

It took me seven years
to realise
I will wear these scars
forever
I'll carry them
through every smile
every kiss
every concerned gaze
I'll carry them
to my grave

It took me seven years
to realise
the pain carved
into the walls
of my castle
etchings of
attempting to disappear
are not a story of weakness
but a tale of
how I survived