I am trying to write a poem
about the way stars shine
but I keep realizing
that what we call stars
is really only light,

and I am trying to write a poem
that isn't about you
but I keep realizing
that what I thought of as you
was only the parts you cared to show,

and I am trying to believe in magic
and miracles
but I keep realizing
that I am only wishing on light
and the word love has a definition that fits in the dictionary.

Some people are so comfortable with their past;
they wear demons on their extremities like tattoos.
I am not one of those people.
I have scars that will never see the light of day,
they are painted on my legs like hieroglyphics
depicting an ancient battle.
The summer sun will never kiss that skin,
it will remain translucent white,
protected from ultraviolet rays
by fragile excuses.
I have scratches from ghosts
clawing their way out from the inside,
striving to make themselves real,
to be noticed by the outside world, screaming
"this pain
is not
metaphorical".
In my family you are supposed to play your strengths,
never let your weaknesses be known.
In their eyes I am a suit of armor.
My knees are shaking beneath pale thighs.

If you are a girl and you are bisexual,
you're really just a ****.

If you are a boy and you are bisexual,
you're really just gay.

Bisexuality isn't a real thing,
it's a phase. You're confused.

All girls are secretly bi.
You're just more honest about it.

Bisexuals like everyone,
they don't know how to have real relationships.

Bisexuals are looking for attention,
They're dramatic,
They're confused,
They're *****
Idiots
Sinners
Immature.

Wrong.


Bisexuals are people.

On the floor
in my living room
with my head on your chest
and your arms around me.
The tv was on.
I don't remember what show.
I remember the beating of your heart.
I remember how shallow your breaths were.
I fell asleep.
When I woke up,
I rolled over.
Glanced over at you,
said good night,
walked upstairs.
I wonder how you felt.
I don't know why I keep doing this to us.

You were a cup of hot coffee,
one sip of you and I was awake.
You were sugar and whipped cream and vanilla flavor,
you were steaming.
You were almost too hot.
I dropped in an ice cube to cool you off.
You were hot hot hot
until I hit a cool spot,
then you were icy cold
that made my teeth ache.
The ice melted.
You were lukewarm.
You were sweet that made my head hurt,
you were stale,
you were watered down
and thick
like flu medicine.
You stained the rim of my favorite mug.

I was standing on a beach
in pitch black
when I realized I wasn't special.

Your entire childhood,
your dad tells you you're the smartest child he knows
and your mom tells you that you have the kindest heart
and your relatives tell you you're the most beautiful girl in the world,
And it isn't until your heart has been broken
by a boy who called you the one
or your best friend has stopped talking to you
for reasons you'll never fully understand
that you realize the only loved ones telling you the truth
were your brothers,
who pointed out your flaws
and tore apart everything you found beautiful
and destroyed every ounce of pride you had.
This is the only truth you can find.

On a scale of the universe,
no single star can be considered unique.

You spend your whole life
thinking how unprecedented you are
and how different your life is from everyone else's
And you're going to be different when you grow up,
you're going to follow your dreams
and live an amazing life
and you're going to travel
and have a one of a kind wedding
and your children will have unique names,
And one day you're in your dad's office
and you see all these people in cubicles
and you realize they all thought the same thing.

You may be a star
but the universe is infinite
and there are billions of stars
and no matter what your parents tell you,

Trust your brothers.

I check
your blog
everyday for
evidence that
you
aren't
gone
from every
aspect of
my life.

It's been
two months.
I miss
your
dumb laugh
and your
lame music
and we
smile at
each other
in the hall
but you
never
wave back.

You were
the first
real thing
I'd felt
in a long
time.

You
were
right
there.

I heard my eight year old cousin call his sister a ******
because she is bisexual.
I heard the voice of an angel whisper
Daddy says **** go to hell.

That poor boy's mind has been poisoned since birth.
He has been fed line after line
of over-analyzed,
misunderstood scripture
and he believes it is his ticket
into heaven.

I can't wrap my head around
why homosexuals would go to hell
but the ones flicking Satan's tongue at them
are saved.

Love doesn't send you to hell.

Hate does.

January is ice cold, but it never snows.
You're always so angry but you never want to talk about it.
February it starts to get warm, then there's a week of snow days.
Just when I think you're letting me in you shut me out again.
March has cold mornings and hot afternoons; the trees start to turn green.
You call me at 3am crying and you're fine in the morning; you have good days sometimes.
April is hot and cold and wet and dry.
You've never been a very stable person.
May is rain. The humidity makes my clothes damp.
You get so broken sometimes that it breaks me, too.
June is perfect lake weather. The water is cold.
I want to know all of the dark corners of your mind.
July has no rain. The dirt dries out and cracks.
I wonder how many of your smiles are faked.
August is too hot to go outside. The lake is bath water.
As soon as you get close to someone you find an excuse to leave.
September has cool evenings. The mosquitoes are awful.
Sometimes you feel at peace with your demons.
October is more rain; autumn oranges and reds and yellows.
You say you're dying and I try to convince you it will get better soon.
November is a dry cold.
I wish you would let me help you.
December freezes the plants; the leaves are gone from the trees.
*You destroy yourself and wonder why you're so broken.

When that guy in my history class
announced to everyone
that I was "checking out Macy", my project partner,
I just stood at the front of the class,
feeling my face get redder and redder
as my teach simply said
"settle down."

I wish I had walked over
and punched him
in his huge, cocky mouth.

When those boys outside the bathroom at a campsite
told me I was pretty
and grabbed both my arms when I tried to walk away
so they could "get a better look",
I ****** away and walked back to the tent
and said it was nothing
when my mom asked why I seemed so shook up.

I wish I had slapped both of them
and given them a speech
about respecting women.

When that girl in my chemistry class
told me everyone secretly hated my boyfriend
and said if she was the reason he killed himself,
she wouldn't feel bad,
I turned to face away from her
and gripped the sides of my chair
and told her to stop talking.

I should have punched her in the nose
and refused to apologize
to someone who didn't value human life.

When my boyfriend
froze dead in his tracks
while we were walking down the street on Valentine's Day
and he saw the girl he claimed to be over,
I just tugged at his hand
and told him to keep walking
and pretended not to be hurt.

I wish I had slapped that longing look off of his face;
I could've taught him a lesson
about being a lying *******.

I wish I had the courage to stand up for myself.
I want people to know not to mess with me.
I want the swollen knuckles of victory.

I can picture it so clearly,

I'm sitting at a table by myself,
playing ukulele
because my friend left it
when he left me alone at a table,
and she walks by,
and she smiles at me,
and I stop playing
because I'm shy,
and she asks if she can listen to me play,
and she sits down,
and I play
and it sounds awful
because I'm nervous,
but she claps,
and she laughs because her clap sounds so lonely,
and the combination of those two sounds
is the most amazing thing I've ever heard,
and the crinkles by her eyes
(her astonishingly green eyes)
make me blush,
then she tells me her name
and it sounds like the only true thing I've ever heard,
and I ask for her number
and she gives it to me,
and I watch her leave,
hoping she'll look back and smile,
but she doesn't
and it makes me like her even more,

And my mind tortures me with these memories
that never happened
and wishes
that went unfulfilled,
And I will never love anyone more
than I love the girl with the clap that echoes through my veins
and the name
that sounds like truth.

Today I woke up and told you I wanted to jump off a bridge and you said you would talk to me all day and call me as soon as you got home to make sure I was okay but at 11:19am you stopped texting me and I would've understood if it was because of class but school ended at 3:30pm and you didn't call me like you said you would and you didn't text me until 9:17pm and you were surprised when I said I was doing well and I guess what I'm trying to say is I thought I needed you to be there for me today but you weren't and I got out of bed and pulled myself together on my own and I made everything better on my own and you might need me but I sure as hell don't need you and I hope you hate that I can be happy without you I hope you wish you had held onto me tighter I hope you know I'm okay on my own I hope you know I don't need anyone

When I gave you my bracelet I told you I wore it to remind myself that most pain is self inflicted and you still have it somewhere but you haven't mentioned it in a while and it's just some safety pins hooked together so I don't really need it back and I think you need it more than I do because you named the cuts on your arms after people and you blame them on events and it seems like you've forgotten why it's called self harm you say you tried to **** yourself because of your ex girlfriend and your dad and I know this isn't what you want to hear but I'm not going to sugarcoat anything you tried to **** yourself because you overreacted to a breakup you tried to **** yourself because you made yourself believe your dad hates you you tried to **** yourself because you thought yourself into a black hole and you named it after them and now you're on the verge of doing it again but this time you're screaming my name into it and I have apologized much more than necessary even though I didn't do anything wrong and you still blame me when we're on the phone at 2am on a Monday night and I'm trying to make you feel better and you keep saying you hate yourself and I'm wondering if that's actually true because most of the time it seems like you hate the people that are trying to help you and I'm begging you to start wearing my bracelet again

I should have left you so much sooner.
I should have walked away on Valentine's Day
when you wouldn't stop talking about her.
I should have let go of your hand,
I should have dropped that stupid bear at your feet
and thrown those flowers in the road.
I should have told you not to touch me if you tried to pull me back.
I should have walked to IHOP in the cold,
I should have gotten a table in my brother's section
and told him he was right,
you were an *******.
I should have bought heart shaped chocolates and eaten them alone in my room
and listened to Adele on repeat.
I should have rejected your calls,
I should have deleted your number from my phone
(even though I had it memorized).
I should have broken your heart,
because you sure as hell broke mine.
******* it,
I should have left you so much sooner.

I have to
force myself
not to
apologize
to you
every time I
stand up
for myself.

You have
brought me
to the point
of feeling guilty
for getting hurt
when you are
inconsiderate.

I'm not sorry.
That's what
I keep
telling
myself.

I woke up today with thoughts of falling from high places
and I wanted your help but you didn't reply
so I got out of bed
and pulled myself together
and surprisingly I felt okay without you there.

I have lifted this weight off of my shoulders
without your assistance.

It feels so good not to need you.

You have cuts on your arm
that you name after people
and you talk about them
like accidents.

I got this one when she left,
this one when she told me she didn't trust me,
this one when she wasn't there,

as if they were put there by the event,
by some other force you could not control,
but let me remind you,
it is called self harm for a reason.

The people you named them after
did not hold the blade,
these cuts on your arm are not battle wounds,
you are not fighting anyone
but yourself.
Stop blaming them.
Stop blaming the people who love you,
no one is out to get you
but yourself.
All your pain is self inflicted.
Let me say that again.
All your pain is self inflicted.

You are holding a gun to your head,
screaming at me with tears running down your face,
why are you doing this to me?

Put down the gun.

Look in a mirror.

**All your pain is self inflicted.

I whispered your name into clenched fists
and cursed myself for letting you in.
I ground your fingerprints off my skin with sandpaper
and dug your promises out of my veins.
I cracked my ribs and ****** you out of the marrow.
I exhaled all your breath from my lungs like cigarette smoke.
I set fire to the rose you gave me
and left the notes you wrote in the rain.
I destroyed myself to destroy you
but it wasn't enough.

I called you at 2am,
I spit venom into the phone,
Do you have any idea how guilty you make me feel?
I broke my own heart over you,
I told myself you deserved this,
I made you feel sorry
oh, did I make you feel sorry...

It's 6am now.
He deserved it.
He deserved it.
I ruined myself.
I ruined you.
I made you feel sorry.

*I keep telling myself it was worth it.

They swear on your existence,
they place you above their nation,
they use you to decide right and wrong,
they thank you before meals,
they whisper your name into clenched fists,
praying that you will bless them,
praying that your divine grace will save them,
they respect you,
they fear you,
they love you.
They convince themselves you love them, too.
But if you love them you have a cruel way of showing it,
if you love them you need to start acting like it,
because if you are their almighty father,
you need to start treating them like your children.
A father wants the best for his children,
a father sees the innocence in his children's eyes
and wishes it would stay there,
a father carries his children in his arms when they are tired,
he tucks them into bed at night,
he kisses their forehead and tells them
he loves them.
A father does not test his children with cruel punishments,
disease is not a proper gauge of devotion,
disasters may bring those involved closer
but only because they are mourning the loved ones you stole.
When a child tells their father they hate him,
he waits,
because he knows they are young
and they are learning
and they love him.
A father does not **** his child
to an eternity of suffering
for not worshipping the ground he walks on,
a father does not need recognition for the good he has done,
a father does not need recognition,
God, if you are so great,
why do you need recognition?
If you are so high above them,
why do you need their reassurance of your power?
Why do you make them beg for your help?
God, why are you so insecure?
God, do you punish them just to hear them cry your name?
God, why do you hurt your children?
They love you,
can't you ******* see that?

Dear God,
you are a deadbeat father.

I am a broken porcelain girl.
Not an angel,
a ghost.
And you will die like me;
*slowly.

You pushed me up against a wall when we kissed.
I can't get out.
You pulled the blanket over our heads.
I'm struggling for breath.
You traced your hands over my skin.
You left fingerprints on my ribs.
You turned the lights off.
*You've seen parts of me that daylight keeps hidden.

I'm not saying I've fallen for you
I'm still not sure
but you said you loved me
and I think maybe I could love you too
if you were a better you
and I know I shouldn't ask you to change
but you've been gone for a while
and no one knows where you went
and I'm hoping that when you get back
you'll be better
and maybe then we'd have a chance
and I know this is wrong of me to think
but I keep thinking it
because you said you love me
and it's been four years
and you still do
so I think I have time
to decide how I feel
and you'll still be here
waiting for me
or maybe you won't
I don't know what you think of me at this point
I don't know if you'll keep waiting
but I hope you will.
I hope you still love me.
I know that's selfish,
but I hope you do.
I think I might love you,
if you give me a chance to.

The smoke in the bathroom
from burning the rose you gave me
smelled like cigarettes.

I know there's a poem there
but I can't find it.

I heard that people's hearts
are the same size as their fists.

When you told me you loved me
everything was soft around the edges.
The palms of your hands were smooth
as you ran them over every inch of me,
reading me like Braille.
It was gentle.
It was kind.

I heard that people's hearts
are the same size as their fists.

When you told me I broke your heart
everything was shattered and fragmented.
Your knuckles were jagged and ******
as you turned my flesh to pulp,
beating every last I'm sorry out of me.
It was brutal.
It was angry.

I heard that people's hearts
are the same size as their fists.

I held a match to the rose you gave me
but it wouldn't
*******
burn.

I tried so hard to leave you
but you wouldn't
let me
*go.

When I said you weren't paying attention to my feelings
you got mad at me and said
it hurts that you think I'm that awful.

I apologized.

Now here I am
crying in an empty bathtub at 3am
clutching my phone waiting for you to call back
because you hung up when I told you
that it hurts my feelings when you say
stop feeling so sorry for yourself
I have it worse.


Am I a bad person for calling you out on your ****?
Is it rude to stand up for myself?


I'm not sorry if I made you feel bad,
you made me feel worthless.
So you tell me,
which is worse?

Feeling like a bad person
**or not feeling like a person at all?

You asked me why I don't eat meat
and I told you that I can't stand the idea
of being the reason
a living creature gets hurt.
You told me
They'll get killed anyways
and I didn't have a good argument
other than
I just don't want to be the reason.

You asked me why I felt so guilty about the cuts on your arm
and I told you that I can't stand the idea
of being the reason
a living creature gets hurt.
You told me
I would have done it eventually anyways
and I didn't know what to say
other than
*I just never wanted to be the reason.

I've stuck around for so long
even though I've wanted to leave
because I don't want to hurt anyone,

but I broke his heart
I let her down
I lied to him
I made her cry
I hurt them
I hurt them
I hurt them...

And I don't know what to do
because I'd hurt them by leaving,
but I hurt them by staying, too.

You have circles on the inside of your arm
that make you look like an octopus.
Maybe that's why I had such a hard time getting out
when you held me.

You wrapped your arms around me
and dragged me down to the ocean floor.
I was so lost,
it was so dark,
I asked you for directions to the surface
and you told me you would take me.

I believed you.

You sunk further down
and took me with you.
I told you I couldn't breathe
and you tried to save me
(you said you tried)
but you pumped water into my lungs,
you pulled me too hard,
you left bruises on my ribs,
you tore my flesh apart.

You took me to depths
that no man can withstand.

*You told me
to float.

When I was younger
my mom told me not to trust animals
And not to get too close
because no matter how nice they seemed
They might get scared
and bite me.

I don't know why she expects me
to trust people.