No
Because I don't want to
Because I said so
No
Because I said so
You're not going to change my mind
No
No
[His name]
Stop

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.

IF THIS BODY
WEREN'T MINE
WOULD I STILL
HATE IT?

I saw you holding her hand today
and I almost smiled at the two of you
but I stopped myself.

It's been two weeks since we've talked,
and I almost called you last night
but now I'm glad I didn't
because if you are with her now
I probably seem like the clingy one.

Funny how things change.

I remember when you used to talk about her,
you said she was your favorite person in the world
and I tried to act like I wasn't offended
since you were finally talking about something good.
I could tell by the way you smiled
when you told stories about her
that she made you happier than I ever could.

That's what you need:
to be happy.

I am glad you have her now,
and she can make you happy
in the ways I couldn't.
I want you to be okay.
I hope she can do that for you.

God knows I tried.

I have been told by four different people that I'm not really trying to get better, that I'm just wallowing in this sorrow and letting it swallow me, like bleach, but from you, I think was the worst. No, no it wasn't, the worst was the first time, from the first boy I ever kissed, I remember how sweetly he said it, "I just think you let it get the best of you sometimes," and how I exploded, and so I was prepared when you said it, had been through this fight before, had a witty retort prepared for every "well if you just did this you could fix it" you threw at me, I have years of experience in defending my sadness. So when you told me that if I have lived this long just so I won't break any more hearts than I have to then I should just keep going, and I said "Good night", understand that I only left because that poses a question that I have not been brave enough to answer yet, that I know to you it makes perfect sense but there are days when the only thing that keeps me going is the promise that I will eventually die, and when you try to push that back, try to tell me that it will not happen as soon as I have been promising myself, I lose hope. So yes, you made some valid points, and yes, I probably could be working a little harder, and, yes, I am still mad at you. You're an *******. Good night.

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.

how can you love someone and then
not anymore

how can a feeling
just not be there

maybe you're not looking
hard enough

maybe you should start digging a little
deeper

it's buried six feet under along with the way
you used to say my name

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.

You like it, don't you? You hate yourself and you love that about you, you love your brooding pain, the way you can't say your own name without choking. You love to see how close to the bottom you can get before you start gasping for air, you want to swallow salt water, let it fill your lungs like tar, you want them to miss you, want them to feel guilty, want him to love your pain as much as you do, want him to appreciate how well you can destroy things, want his vision to be distorted by the scars on your wrists, want him to kiss them, want him to feed your pain. You want troubled girl meets nice boy, want him to try to save her, want her to die anyways, want him to be troubled boy to meet nice girl, want her to try to save him, want him to die anyways, want to start a cycle, want the world to resonate with the aching hollowness of your last words, want everyone to know how much you're hurting, how strong you are for still being here, for still fighting, but you're not fighting, are you? You gave up a long time ago and aside from the adrenaline attacks of optimism you are weak, but they will never know this, they cannot know this, they have to believe that you're an inspiration, that you fought as hard as you could but it wasn't enough, that you never gave in, that your dying breath was a whisper of purity, that you are a godsend, an idol to be worshipped, you are the messiah. You are so brave.

It is a strangely intimate thing, to touch another person, for your skin to touch their skin, the warmth of blood flowing within two separate bodies to intertwine.

It is a strangely intimate thing, to touch you, for my thin fingers to catch on the callouses of your palms, to trace the scars on your knuckles, for the cold of my hands to mingle with the warmth seeping from the veins in your wrist.

It is a strangely intimate thing, to want you, for your hands to burrow themselves into my cerebrum, for the air in my shallow lungs to flow in unison with the cadence of your voice.

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 remember when I was
thirteen and my aunt asked
if I had ever had my heart broken.

With the same tone of voice
I would have used if she had
told me to be safe on
my walk to school,

I said
my heart is indestructible.

Now I am afraid for my
life because they thought the
Titanic was unsinkable so
they drove it head on into
an iceberg and as the ship's
soundness was compromised
a number of the passengers were
so drunk that they decided
to stay on board.

I can only hope that when
I see an iceberg in my path I
will not let my hubris convince me
that I can handle it,

I can only hope that if
my heart begins to sink
I will not be so intoxicated with
my feeling of invincibility that
I do not try to save myself,

I can only hope that
when my ship goes down
I will not have made myself
so isolated that
there are no rescue missions
willing to find me.

I am sorry for all the harm I have done
I am sorry that I cannot heal the scars I have left
I am sorry that you have wounds and I am the blade
I am a double edged razor and you cannot hold me
without slicing open your palms
drop me please
let me go
I do not want to hurt anyone anymore
if this is what I have caused
I no longer want to be

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 have never felt more hatred toward another human being
than I do toward myself.
The only question I have been able to ask myself these past few months
is “what the **** are you doing?”
and I do not have an answer.
I have been carrying this weight for so long that
I have forgotten how it feels to be free.
I am a prisoner of war
inside my own ******* head,
and I am no longer sure of what I am fighting for.
Do not call me a soldier.
I am not a hero,
I am a coward.
I am weak.
Point a rifle to my head.
Do not prepare your bayonets,
I will not struggle.
Close my eyes when the light fades from them.
Do not let me see what I’ve left behind.

My heart beat so hard the first time I held your hand
I'm sure you felt me shaking
and I drunk texted you once
and I still meant it all the next day
and I embarrassed myself in front of you
but my face didn't turn red

and I named a poem after you
and somebody called it beautiful

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 was right there.

As he gripped her waist in one hand,
she glanced in my direction
long enough to force a nod
when I asked if she was okay.

His fingertips traced their way up her thigh
as her breath became more shallow.
I asked if she was okay.
She said yes.

With his cold breath on the back of her neck
and his arm pulling her closer,
he whispered something that I couldn't hear.
She said she was fine.

I was right there.

I followed her when she left.
I found her sitting on the restroom floor.
With every sob her body shook in my bony arms.
I could not protect her.

I was right there.

I am so sorry that I did not save her.
If her eyes had screamed a little louder,
if I had looked a little closer,
Maybe then I could have stopped him before it was too late.

**I was right there.

Did you think of me when you said you loved her?
Because I was the first person you ever said that about
and you were drunk as **** but you meant it,
you say you still do.
You say you still love me
but you don't want to anymore because
she's here now,
but if all you needed was someone to
be here
then I don't ******* understand
why I wasn't enough.
I don't ******* understand how you can say
you've loved me so extensively
and then love her more so quickly.
If loving her means letting me go
then what the **** did loving me mean?
You
are broken bottles
and I had started seeing my reflection in the shards of glass
and I wonder if she's ever seen me.
I wonder if she's seen the scars on your knuckles
from broken mirrors,
wonder if you would tell her
that I was the anger that put them there,
that I was the one who wrapped gauze around the wounds.
Have you ever cried over me?
Have you cried over me
like I have over you?
Has your chest been hollow
like mine has?
Have you hated yourself
like I do?
Have you felt guilt?
Your pain
is the pulsing of my heart,
I can only feel it
when I think about it
or when life is still for a moment
but it is always there
and I know this,
and it kills me.
You know nothing of
the aching you have caused me
because I keep it buried
in the bottom of my heart
along with the nights you fell asleep holding me.
Does it feel the same when you hold her?
Do you feel safe with her body pressed against yours?
Is she home yet
or are you still settling in?
Maybe if you give her that bracelet of mine
that you used to wear
she will seem more familiar.
I wonder if you realize she looks like me
or if that's something you did subconsciously.
Do you ever mistake her eyes for mine?
Do you ever think about my hands when you're holding hers?
Do you remember what my hands feel like?
Did you think of me when you said you loved her?

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.

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.

girl goes to bed with makeup on, wakes up with sore muscles
girl goes to bed without locking the front door, wakes up in the driveway
girl goes to bed without saying goodnight, wakes up to brother shaking her shoulders
girl goes to bed with the phone off the hook, wakes up with mouthful of *****
girl goes to bed in the bathtub, wakes up with an armful of black thread
girl goes to bed in brother's room, wakes up with the tv still on
girl goes to bed next to boy, wakes up before he does
girl goes to bed without sleeping, wakes up the same time as always
girl goes to bed with a candle burning, wakes up to the sound of herself choking
girl goes to bed early, wakes up to obituary
girl goes to bed with her hand in the cabinet, decides not to wake up this time

When I used to have bad nights,
I would lie awake and cry,
curled up in a ball on my side
clutching a blade so hard my knuckles were white
trying to fight
but I didn't know which voice was mine.

Fall asleep too late,
in my dreams I would suffocate
and have bloodshot eyes when I'd wake,
but reassure my mom with my arms around her waist
yeah, I'm great.


Now when I have those evenings,
I try to keep from screaming,
but I can still feel your heart beating
when I read your messages that I can't bear deleting,
and I write all these texts to you that I'm not completing
because I told you to go away but I hadn't planned for your leaving.

Close my eyes when the darkness recedes,
the nightmares are always you and me
and I take Tylenol to make your memory leave
but my hands are red and they will never be clean
*I'm sorry for the times I made you bleed.

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.

My father lets me wear
short skirts
and bikinis
and pants that hug my thighs
but he will not allow me
to leave the house
in a button down shirt
and suspenders.

My brother told me
that if I keep dressing the way I do
and cutting my hair short
I'm going to look like a man.

I hope so.

Maybe, if people think I'm a man,
no one will tell me I can't
listen to Van Halen because
"it's guy music".

Maybe, if people think I'm a man,
they won't think I'm the antichrist
when I kiss my girlfriend.

Maybe if people think I'm a man,
they won't expect me to shave my legs
and arms
and every other area with
"unsightly hair".

Maybe if people think I'm a man,
my teacher will not tell me
to make sure I marry someone
who can support my family
and will start telling me
how to ******* support my family.

Maybe if people think I'm a man
they won't get angry at me
when I refuse to send
pornographic photos of
my body.

Maybe if people think I'm a man
I will be able to walk home
at night without pepper spray
on my keychain in case
I look too "provocative".

Maybe if people think I'm a man
I will finally get treated
with some *******
**respect.

You

All pierced ears
and tattoos
and walking out of classrooms

Me

All thumb rings
And flannel shirts
And anonymous emails

You

With strong arms
And scars
And a smile like a rainstorm

Me

With bony knees
And freckles
And chapped lips

You

Your dilated pupils
Tar choked lungs
Stories from rehab

Me

My slurred words
Empty bottles
Hangovers

You

Saying I miss you
Please kiss me
I love you

Me

Saying I'm drunk
Please need me
I'm empty

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.