don't tell me my eyes are like the ocean
-you'd drown in there, I'd push you under-
and don't tell me that the fire inside of my ribcage can sometimes be mistaken for a heart

I want you to tear my belly button open with your teeth
(only after you tease me with your eyes)
claw up into my chest
pick apart my rib cage
clench your fist around my heart and it will shatter like glass
because that is what hearts of unsure girls do
(girls unsure about themselves in every sense of the phrase)
I don't think I've made an impression on you
I think I've just given you a pair of **** to pass the time with

comfort in his limbs, or simply in his presence.
i just crave slowly inching my fingers up his arm
wiping his shoulder with my thumb
resting my heavy head on the pillow and my forehead against his bicep
why can't i take care of myself when i am alone
why am i treating my life as if it is on pause

staying up late to feel my teeth crumble under the sugar in this wine
watching scary things on the television wondering why in the dark, I think the shadows might be out to get me.
I dont know what I think they are or why they scare me. Do they even scare me?
Left unfinished, playing in the background, the scary tv shows become my night light so i dont have to think about the shadows in the dark

I used to think maybe if I held my breath long enough,
the universe would send me something -
a boy, the wind, the sun's beams -
to get me to take at least one more fresh intake of air.

I quickly learned that, in life, you never get handed anything.
You must either politely ask for what you want
or grow a pair and go grab it.

but all i ever wanted was a boy to secretly sniff my ******* and like it
and an over-sized shirt that doesn't smell like me to wear to bed
and a feeling much like what i'm feeling right now

I often daydream of peeling off my own flesh
to let my muscles breathe

or sometimes of slitting my wrists
to let myself be mean to me
to bleed on forever,
until my hair is as long as this day has felt

and occasionally (maybe more than I'll admit)
I daydream of holding a new hand

insecure
unsure whether you like me fitting into your side when we walk next to each other
or if you're just comfortable, so why bother changing it

either way, i'm enjoying my time a lot, leaning into your shoulder

I can't remember how to sleep
someone please punch me into the memory

Tonight I promised myself I'd take a picture of him.
(I don't have enough.)
I told myself to wait until it was dark and my chili pepper lights had to come on,
to wait until he was shirtless
his hair was messy
and to wait until the perfect moment-
right after he's seen all of me,
and he's smiling
because there is no outside world,
there is no outside,
the entire universe exists only on my mattress,
and we are laughing because nothing could possibly be wrong-
the perfect moment to pick up my camera and take a snapshot of
the most beautiful guy I have ever met
that is finally shedding his thick skin and letting me see how he has hurt, too.

The perfect moment came and went,
and I was too busy listening and laughing
and lightly tracing his bones with my fingertips and lips
to even think about my camera or remember cameras existed in the first place.

you
make
me
  c
    r
a
    z
y

and the way you say my name
makes my heart

                                 stop

and

d
r
o
p

and

r            l  
       o           l

this love still makes my heart race at 90mph
you are still my favorite thing to touch

just let me know when you're ready to hit the brakes
because i don't have my seat-belt on.

i think of your floor and the baseball field under the stars, i want to kiss you there again, i want to climb another fence i want to climb onto the bus
i want to hold your ******* hand, i don't care when,
this is going to be fun.

i'd like to delete everything i've ever written
exchange it for something more poetic,
like a code he'll never figure out, but keeps trying to
like a picture of a lighter being held close to my wrist
but we all know i can't bring myself to let flame touch skin
like a wish
that i'd never learned to write or think or feel
in the first place

this weekend already feels so long because i won't see you friday or saturday
(i don't know why time changes when you're not around)
but I just wanted to let you know that i wrote some things for you in my journal that i think you should read sunday, if i see you then.
they're good things, of course, a little random and sloppy,
a little self-critiquing (sometimes i think i am too serious)
and it's 4:28am and I might be a little delirious
but i am really excited to be 18 and in love with you.
I'm going to let myself believe you, even when I am insecure
and I'm going to be less afraid to tell you how handsome you look all the time.
So if I see you Sunday...i'll probably be a little hesitant to open up the journal you gave me, but don't let me be embarrassed. I'm not sure how much you really care about reading what's in there (i don't blame you if you don't), but I trust you
4:34am
this weekend already feels sooo long because i won't see you

I think
we all think
we're different.
I think
everybody thinks
they're alone
and nobody understands
and life is
so
*******
hard.

Sometimes I look out of open doors
take a cold sip of juice
and life doesn't seem so difficult
because it's easy to be sad.

sometimes i think i'm telling a joke
and then i think about it for too long
and realize again how quickly time can pass
and how easily people change and forget each other
and how (speaking of easy) it is way too easy to remember that life is pointless
so sometimes maybe when i'm trying to tell a joke
I am actually trying to distract myself
and find a point in flashing teeth
(mainly my own)

sometimes i write about the same thing
over and over and over and ov-
I don't know why
and sometimes I yell it all in my mind and it doesn't stop until i cry
and sometimes I go to the studio and forget about everything
except pointing my feet
but I know there's no future in that because my feet don't point far enough
and I can't yell loud enough for it to stop
and throwing my body around a stage only makes me forget for the length of the song
and what if one day i can't stand to remember
or what if one day all i want to do is remember
i could get too far lost in it all
or get lost in it while trying to grasp onto the edge

i can't stop thinking about
how lucky i am
to get to hold your hand
for now

You don't smoke and I don't smoke
but sometimes I have dreams of sitting on a tree branch in a faux leather jacket
while you sit beside me and twirl my hair around your fingers
my eyeliner smeared the way you like it
black nails and black lips, the black death sits between my lips,
don't even worry about a thing,
I'll die anyway.

I think I know why I write of you so often...
Because every time I see you,
My mind stumbles over words
Your lips make me stall
The look in your eyes makes me dizzy
And every moment I can't see you...
I want to
I want to
I want to

i know my writing is going down the drain
(i write too much, i write too often)
but **** I HAVE TO WRITE DOWN HOW MUCH I LIKE
running my fingers down your bare back in the seat of my car
resting my head on your chest and feeling your breath
I have to write down how moments with you feel wonderful
and...better.
it's all basic, it's all general
i'm not relating your eyes to the moon
because when the moon is right above us and we could look up and see it
I'd still rather look into your eyes sometimes.

I don't always have flow, no rhythm, no new metaphors
but every night you smile is ******* magical
(no new words)
and i just feel like i need to type it out

so yeah my writing is ****, it always will be,
but tonight I am glad
that my order of words may not be pretty,
but I get to write about something beautiful
(your lips wanting to be on mine)

I'm awfully awfully tired
but I have no where to sleep
maybe the ******* grim reaper
will make my bed for me

let's remove the layers of clothes separating us
(you're looking me in the eyes again)
my shirt comes off
(your lips are against my ear)
my fingers fumble around your belt loops
(you're kissing down my stomach)
i want to press my palms against your cheeks and rest your head to my chest
i want to tell you how much you mean to me
over and over and over

you don't walk all over me
but I lay myself out like a carpet at your feet,
I spread out right in front of you,
right in your path,
right where you're headed
and maybe sometimes
occasionally
you'll step on the corner

I am corrupting myself
letting my flesh hang from my face in long pieces
that dangle all the way to my feet
so I can step on my cheeks
and
I
will
never
be more than
trash.

My desk holds no pencils-
every mistake I make
will never erase.

I grip my flaws with a fist
because they will always be mine.

I met you by accident
as you walked to my car and got in the trunk
and I kept my headphones in so I didn't have to listen to anything you said.
I met you by accident
when you asked me what music I liked
and a week later I discovered it was yours that I liked
because of that, every song reminds me of you.
I met you by accident
in your backseat when I put my head to your chest
and you put your nose in my hair and kissed the top of my head
I met you by accident

i guess i think it's funny
that he told me he didn't like some pictures of us together
because it always looked like i was pushing him away
and in the end,
that's what i did.

ayy boi,
love's gonna hurt, they say
but this is worth every ******* ******* ache
whether we've got another year or just a little while,
today you are my favorite and most important reason to smile

I ******* ****
at making conversation
and being anything but boring
(you know it, I know it, stop pretending
stop pretending I'm interesting)

I want to look so fragile as I lift my entire body off the ground with just the palm of my hand
and I want you to see my ribs as I fold myself in half
and I want to point my foot into another world because
maybe there I am beautiful.

I can't stop myself from rolling over my shoulders and wanting to arabesque every time I need to reach a hand
please don't stop me from tearing my muscles for this feeling that will never let me go.

i gave away my last pack of cigarettes but i should have saved them for emergency nights when the vape just isn't cutting it and feeling 23 sinks in with baggy eyes.
my stomach is so full, i have a headache and this incessant whining makes me want to scratch at my skin until it peels off.
earlier this evening (back when it was evening and not 4am) there was a spider crawling in my bed
and i yelled for my brother, who luckily liked me enough in the moment to come in and pick up the daddy long leg and take it outside.
I wonder, at 23, how i would live by myself.
i wonder if i'll feel closer to my parents once i move out
i wonder if i'll ever feel satisfied with my existence - but isn't that a bad thing? doesn't that mean giving up? is success a failure in this way..
when does the achievement of a dream leave you dreamless

sometimes i wish i could be a window
and you are always on the inside,
and i am always letting the sun peek in
and you look so handsome smiling through rays of sunshine

sometimes things get blurry and i stand up dizzy,
wondering in what world this might feel like reality
and when i turn around or focus back in on what i like to look at most
it's still his hands
so i'm not just dreaming, right?
every mixed signal or forehead to desk kind of day
makes me wonder how much life counts when you're wishing it away

everything is incredibly fleeting
and i can't help but think i am wasting too much time criticizing my thoughts and choices
over-analyzing every decision I make,
I am wasting so much time worrying

I'd rather spend that time hiking or dancing or kissing this boy i know
(especially kissing this boy i know)
(or holding his hand)
(or saying hello)

i don't have any friends that will be around after high school
so i guess somewhere i'll have to start over
but i'll take all my photos and pin them up on every new wall
or at least keep them safe

maybe sometimes I'm not happy
and sometimes I acknowledge that
and maybe sometimes when you tell me,
"you can tell me anything,"
I believe you
so I try
sometimes, maybe I try
maybe I am still terrified, though
because I am still trying to figure out what words are scrambling through my head and how to put them together in a way that makes sense.
Maybe you'll never know because
I don't care about myself all that much.
I don't want to talk about me or tell you how sometimes
I am empty in a way that it feels like I'm drowning
-kind of like I want to, but mainly like I already have-
because I don't want to be a sad story.
I wish I never was in the mood to make up excuses for why I had to go home and sit by myself,
I wish I always wanted to get up and be something more than a waste of a body.
I want you to think I am more than that,
so please don't ask me to tell you anything,
please just tell me about you
PLEASE JUST TELL ME ABOUT YOU
and I will hold you when you need me to
I will laugh with you when you need me to
I will cry for you when you're too tired to
I will lay next to you and do nothing, if that's what you need
please tell me about you and let me ignore me

I can be an idiot,
Quick with emotion letting it trickle out of my mouth before i can think of how it might make you feel
Tonight I don't feel much and I don't know how to tell you it's not your fault
I think a lot and my chest has been hurting and sometimes I can't help but think you might be better off

but it's always been my worst of nights that I write my best
the nights that I want to cut myself and lick my blood off of your chest
the nights that my eyes suffer and sting because they don't get rest
nights I miss the sunset because I was looking east when I know it's west.

I don't know what the *******'re telling me
but I hope it's more than you're letting on
I hope your uhms and whats will one day tell me what the ******* mean-
"more as friends"
or
"more than friends"
BECAUSE YOU'VE SAID BOTH
and you're keeping me up at night

I deserve to have my heart broken
and I found the perfect boy to do it
(I think he could tear my heart apart)
(I know i'll never be ready for it)

no , i get it
i could pick up smoking
it's stupid, but it sure is romanticized
and with the nights i've been having lately,
what's a little more tar in my lungs going to hurt?

Wrap the cord around my neck
I'm so pathetically sad when no one calls
mostly I just want to make you waffles and watch you eat them on the blue carpet in the kitchen
because after that you can kiss me
and I can pretend that my heart doesn't hurt everytime I look into your eyes at night
thinking of the end.

Please peel the skin from my bones and kiss my rib cage
you can bite my lip off if you want,
at least then you wouldn't have to listen to me talk.

my mind is static
is it possible to go blind by trying desperately to keep my eyes open
so they can reassure my brain that I am okay
I am okay
okay
okay
I don't feel very okay,
and my eyes are not seeing anything okay, either

who killed himself
but nobody will tell me how,
and I'm too afraid to ask
because what if it wasn't an accident
and what if,
one day,
I know another boy.

your "i'm really happy"
makes me
******* ecstatic

i can't think of anything to write,
all i can do is replay the moment you reached your arm over
to pull your fingers through my hair

you know me better than i know myself
you know how to pick me up and put me together

I wish you wrote about me
it's selfish, it always is
-i think i'll always be the one splaying it out
mapping down all of my emotions
matching them with my fingerprints on your bare back
pretending you feel them,
that they sink through my skin, soak into yours
so i can let go a little bit
but i've got a tight ******* grip.
-I wish you wrote about me sometimes
I wish you'd splay it all out,
spread your fingers on my belly
leave your prints
so i could soak something in.
it's selfish, it always is.

I would rip my spine in half,
walk on a broken foot until it falls off,
I would ignore every bandage until I bled out
if it meant I could keep doing what I love.

I'll never understand how people are alright with missing out on chances they get to move and glide and float and be completely alive under a spotlight, the whole world looking at you because you're telling a story with body rolls and pointed feet.

pluck out my ribs,
sprinkle them with salt
I hope they taste bitter-
make me someone I'm afraid to become
wash me in a tub full of blood
(maybe it's just full of red feathers)
(or hearts that pump nothing but *******)

what is it with people like us
we wake up one day and decide to burn our notebooks
and invite the dark we used to be afraid of
to come in and play