Do you know what my bones are wrapped in?
Uncertainty.
And I am waiting today,
uncertain as always,
if you will come or  not,
and I hope you will,
but I know if you do,
you will not have much fun.
I will wrap a blanket around my head, hiding my face from any light,
and you will wrap your arms around me and I might even shrug you away.
Today
there is no point.
This morning has made me realize that people will always keep secrets
and there are no permanent connections anywhere
and the factors that make you LOSE
are much greater
than anything that makes you win.
Dreams don't have to come true,
and people will settle
for a life they never wanted,
but they'll pretend it is good
that they are happy,
when they are working for nothing but to die.
I'll admit, sometimes I wouldn't mind dying.
Only because I've already had my 10 seconds of fame in this village,
and ladies reassure me that that was it. That is all there is room for.
That is all I am good for.
My dreams are the static of a tv set.
waver
waver
gone.
I am empty today,
and it is so silly that my biggest concern
was not having grabbed your **** yet.

God, life can be ******* pathetic.

I thought your smile looked wicked in my dreams,
as you tore my insides apart with the hands you used to hold me in
and now my veins all lead into the dark of the night
trying desperately to carry light into my own heart,
but all my heart can see is black
and that is why I am selfish
and my teeth are rotting
and I can drink my own salty tears and laugh.

I'm not sure if I really ever want to be happy,
or if I want to be tragic.

I can never answer
Which one is more fun?

i hear a ghost train
and i am paranoid of the past, sometimes
that it will haunt you and i and everyone

but right now i'm not thinking too far back
only far enough to think of a picnic table
where we sat and watched the sun shine through the trees
but after a while, i ended up instead admiring your eyes
(and your lips)
(and your smile)

every mattress is an opportunity
every location
every patch of grass or mud puddle
i could kiss you anywhere
-it's june 16th i guess and my teen angst has a mind of its own
in the sense that i'm ridiculous
but also trying to use it as validation that i might just need to take care of myself
or maybe tell a doctor that i feel like lighting my arm on fire sometimes.
I'm convinced it's normal (because it is)

lately i've been too tired to take care of things-
i haven't been watering my cacti
and this is the perfect metaphor-
we need to water us
so we can grow again.
i know we've been down lately,
but the sun's coming out
and i know you want time for other things,
but let's chill and calm down.
there's so much time to balance out,
we'll get it right,
and i'll still have plenty of time to kiss you this summer,
maybe even on some sand.
and even a week from now will be better than today, right?
we're making it through the winter
this begins another fun part
between this moment and the questionable end,
i want to see us smile again

I need you to know
that I no longer write about you.

-go to sleep
-learn to like hanging out with yourself
-try your best to never let anyone you love ever doubt that you love them
-do not expect anything from anyone, do not rely on people. It is healthy and natural to let your guard down and occasionally take a hand, but when no one really offers you their palm, do not be shocked or hurt. You do not need to hold a hand.
-get over the fact that you really just want to hold his hand

you constantly quote
"it's alright
to tell me
what you think
about me"
but you also say
"take notes"
when our friend talks of how bad it is for the woman to say "i love you" first
and i am constantly torn between saying,
"I'm in love with you"
or asking
"do you still like it when I'm around?"

I don't know what I want with my life,
but ****, i know it might be bad to say,
but right now in life, day to day
today, tomorrow
I want you in it.

my life will be much like a mountain that I am too afraid of. Afraid of tripping and losing grip and falling all the way down to where I started. I know I can't depend on anyone to catch me there at the bottom, so I'll have to rely on the concept of hope - that it helps.
I want to be successful
but it's a slippery, slippery ***** and a fast drop
and one big hell of a chance.

In the meantime,
we can pretend that all of our bones won't slowly decay away
and that no matter what lips you kiss
one day you will kiss nothing but soil

I haven't slept at all
I don't think I will
...

I used to slice my thighs apart
in emptiness
and a feeling I don't really know how to describe.
I'd sit under the shower jets,
let the water pool in all the creases of my body
and cover my ears with my hands,
put my face through the heat,
the sound not the shower,
but a storm,
Like the whole world was raining on me.

I've still got a cloud over my head sometimes,
and I know my lightning will come back.
I'm not sure if I hate or love that storm.
I am positive that I don't need it.

maybe i can't control the tone of your voice
but i can control the amount of flesh on my bones
and i can control when the earth swallows me whole

i thought i wrote you another poem
but really i just went empty for 3 hours
and dreamed of hammering nails into my forearm
(but now i guess i'm writing you a poem)

i like you

fingernails primarily used to pick at ourselves
peel my lip off
bare my teeth
dig out each eye ball and desperately try stuffing each into an ear so i can maybe find out what my thoughts are in there.
open your legs and claw nothing
it's an entire gender of genocide, your genitals need no more claws

The first time you kissed me, it was a peck goodbye and I didn't see it coming.
I didn't see you coming.
I secretly cried to myself on the way home
because what I know now I knew then-
we'd fall apart someday, like they always do.

last night i felt like i was reaching into your body for the end of the string that attached my body to yours
and it just wasn't there
but you said it was there
and i believed it was there
but why couldn't i find it with my fingers
why couldn't my palm grasp it
feeling around inside, peeking in and i'm looking around and I still don't see it but I tell myself I know it's there
and I know it has to be there because it's a string from my body that runs into you, where else could it be
and that's good enough so we go to bed without ever finding it
and in the morning I still feel detached but ignore the feeling until I can't anymore
and when you walked away
it felt like you snipped the string attaching us
and we couldn't find it because you had hardly wanted it there anyway
and when you ignored me
it felt like you knew all along that the end of my string attaching my body to yours
was already gone

I try to open my mouth,
letters bouncing around my tongue and teeth so they can form the perfect words.
I try to save my perfect words
for perfect moments
and perfect people,
but when my perfect time comes,
the universe is quick to remind me
that I am most certainly not perfect.
You see, I try to make myself believe that I can form a hurricane from my mouth,
that I can stand and stomp
and force waves to crash along the shore so you can hear the ocean...
As if I could be as intense as a hurricane
or as precious as a seashell that you hold against your ear.
I try to make myself believe that I could be the covers that keep you warm at night,
the blanket you hold tight against your skin
when ice is forming at your window
and the heater isn't on again because the bill is so **** high.
I try to make myself believe that I could be a photograph you keep in a shoe box,
the kind of photo you've hidden from the world,
not because it's bad,
but because it's this beautiful secret
and you want to keep it all to yourself.
It's always there to look at on dark nights,
this picture of a girl you used to know.
This picture is all you have left of her.
A photo that makes you so happy you cry,
but then you realize they are not just tears of joy,
because although it is too hard to admit sometimes,
you miss your past
you miss how everything was supposed to work out
and how you used to be king of the playground
but now you are just king of a one-bedroom apartment with a toilet that doesn't always flush.
I try to make myself believe that I could be hope.
I could be what makes you say,
"Hey,
this really isn't so bad."
...These words that I spit onto the floor will stick to your shoes when you get up to walk away,
and maybe they will stay there.
You will walk with them all across town-
step on gas pedals, stomp on ants.
I can believe my words belong on shoes,
side notes
blueprints
in unimportant categorizations that your mind will cast off as history and erase in your sleep.
I can believe that my words are like the paper airplanes I strung to my ceiling-  
Most of the time I don't even remember they exist...
but every once in a while,

I look up.

Sometimes headaches keep me up
And my body has this buzz
it tingles every time I touch the sheets.
When I'm holding my head between my elbows and battling nightmares,
I still take comfort in the fact that you're there, safely, soundly asleep.

I can't decide what sixteen has taught me.
That my mother won't like me until I move out
That happiness doesn't come with a license
That *** doesn't have to be romantic
or that I know how to feel alive.

but some nights i just think too far ahead,
i just think too much at once,
about things that don't matter,
things that aren't happening yet,
what-ifs and why-nots and
holy **** i love you
and i know i told you i'd message you before i'd cut myself again,
but **** **** **** **** **** **** ****

everyone gets sad
is sad
will be sad
(I wish you never felt sad)
(I wish you could hand me your sadness and I would walk beside you carrying it on my shoulders and all you'd have to do is smile and hold my hand)

i wish i'd get punched in the face
because
1. I deserve it
and 2. it'd be nice to feel so bruised but have it physically show.
the gross yellows and deep purples would be visible and undeniable
and there is a lot more wrong in me than the wrong i pinned on you today.
your love is valid
and this is so much fun
and i am a really really big *******
and a fool for even thinking i deserve your love or attention,
i feel like such an idiot
and i can't stop thinking

i know i deserve to be loved
i know that i am loved
((why do i ask for reassurance))
(am i really that selfish)

I want my thighs to make you lick your lips
and my mini-skirt to make you clench your fists,
I want my black lips to haunt your daydreams
and my dark eyes to drive you crazy.
Come closer,
because I may seem shy,
but if you run your fingers gently up my spine,
I can trace you with my tongue
and let my lust get the better of our love.

i was going to write a poem
but i had my headphones in for an hour without even listening to anything
and my teeth feel weird,
as well as a tendon in my ankle that i'm afraid won't get better
and i really should get sleep tonight
so maybe another time

The sweat drips down my red face as I focus on my heart rate
and look in a mirror that shows me how high I can kick,
but I need to 'be more intense.'
I think of her kissing your neck,
much better at it than me,
nibbling your ear,
much better at it than me,
she is much more confident
because she was plenty of first kisses,
and god, I wish I was yours.
I think of her clear face and the way that you still hang out
and the way she cheated on you
and the way she sometimes says hi to me in the hallway,
which makes me want to put my hand around her throat and say,
"I am so glad you lost the best thing that happened to me."
I think of this to make my pointed toes have a purpose
to make me dance with anger
but even after the song is over,
I can't stop
thinking.

i am planned out,
and our time is strategically placed in increments,
you'll point out the ******* hours.
carefully calculated so you can tell me we hung out enough
(you counted)

I've never been a quitter,
so what do I do when you tell me to quit cutting out my problems
so I can watch the blood run down the drain?

I am so full of rage
and disappointment
because I can't figure out
why I am never good enough for myself.

and you told me it was killing you,
it had been killing you
to stand next to me all day
and not even get to touch my lips
so you sat in my passenger seat after we dropped everyone else off at their doors and asked me not to take you home yet.
"Please," you said
and how could I ever resist

i thought by now i'd be skinnier
thought i'd approach the new circle of sun a little less stressed
i thought i might have stopped smoking cigarettes

I am sun-kissed and crazy about you

thinking about plants a lot
can't wait to watch things grow and bud
spring is real and here and my hero year after year
i want you to **** my brains out in the sunshine
-----------------
i'll get wet
and we'll dive into summer
i'll stick my toes in the water
see where the current takes me

Every time I think of making decisions,
I try very hard to think
What would I choose if there was no you?
Where would I go if I was alone?
But
sometimes I truly believe you could push me to go so much farther than I ever thought I'd reach
And working together doesn't scare me

don't look at anything i write
wait until it comes out of my mouth
because everything you've ever whispered in my ear
has been ringing and ringing
and i've never heard such a nice sound

i wish i could give that to you in return
i wish i would say things first
because god, i mean these words

you make me feel good and ******
safe and terrified
comfortable and insecure

you make me feel so much more than i ever thought i'd feel before

I wanted you because I desperately needed to have fun and it felt like you'd give me a good time.
It was an accident, actually falling in love with you
but I knew I would.
I made eye contact before I got in the backseat of my car to skip lunch,
and that's when I ******* knew I wanted to fall in love with you,
and I panicked of course because I wasn't supposed to
and this is a story about over-thinking
and this is how I will remember making eye contact
and the way the sun was on your face and the lighting of the sky-
even when it becomes insignificant,
I will think about it when I no longer want to,
I will think about it even though you never knew me then,
and I was just a girl
with eyes
who happened to look.

This sounds creepy, but it wasn't. It wasn't me already knowing I wanted you..it was me thinking it'd be nice to want you. That you looked like someone I wouldn't mind holding hands with, it was '****, that boys lips could do a number of things to my body', it was a 'maybe one day I'll like him a lot, and that might be a cool thing.'

i wrote a poem about concrete and how i step on every crack in the sidewalk like walking a tightrope,
the same way i trace my fingers down your spine
(I want to touch each vertebrae at a time)
at 12:30 I saw shadows in my room,
at 2:04 I thought I should have kissed you longer,
told you "I love you" a thousand more times

at 2:30 I was still thinking about your shoulder blades

my layers are unraveling
I am peeling apart my flesh and bones
exposing the good, the bad, the unknowns

piece
by agonizing
piece

I dream a lot
and I'm still at a point in my life
where I can walk through fire
and come out already healing.
There is no wrong where I am.
You just do
what you do.
I don't know the exact moment I fell in love with you,
but I'm still at a point in my life
where I believe in love.
It can last here,
and grow,
and even when it fades,
it leaves a trail of sparks.
I'm not sure what path I am paving for myself,
but I still believe I can forget about what I am supposed to do
because it's what you do
and simply do what I need to do
what I want to do
go where I want to go
and I still believe taking chances today
won't leave me dead in the morning.

Because I used to have role models
but they all just let me down
with insults
and hypocrisy
and poking needles into my lungs when I'm trying to take a big, deep, fulfilling breath.

maybe i'll collect all my flaws in pictures
(so i can remember every version of me)
and my favorite part will be remembering what the person holding the camera looked like as they snapped each photo
(this is of course a dream)
sometimes it feels like i want to capture each sweaty embrace
each smile you make
each time that we're rolling around on your carpet
but i know that some things are better left simply in the head
(let's take a lot of snapshots anyway)

sorry for always mentioning you in stupid poems i write
sorry that you read them.
I promised myself you'd never see me cry, but we were drunk and you kept saying things that made me miss you while you were still here
and sometimes all I do is miss things that I haven't lost yet.
I tried to hide my eyes, but I don't think I can lie to you
so whenever the world catches up to me and you're around,
I am sorry that I might get overwhelmed. I am sorry that I've cried.
I can't sleep either and no lights are flickering but I keep telling myself that they are
and I'm not sure why I say "and" so much to connect every thought like a run-on, but sometimes when you smile it carries me through the day and i'd run to see that. But I over-analyze and over-think and will over-run my mind 'til I die and sometimes dying sounds better.
I know you know what I mean, and I'M SORRY
we all fake things so well,
it's human nature to fake every day
and god,
I am sorry I'm so scared that you are faking every time you whisper in my ear
AND I WILL NEVER UNDERSTAND WHY NONE OF US SIMPLY
DO WHAT WE WANT
(we'd be so much happier, I bet)
BUT I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT I WANT MOST OF THE TIME
and sometimes when you say sweet words
I know you'll forget you said them
and I'll think of them when you're gone
so sometimes I wish you'd never give me compliments
and
I am sorry
for it all.

4am, why am i so angry?
the usual mistake of thinking i want to die when in reality i just want to curl up and stick my head into his rib cage,
blink with his beating heart,
rest for a while and come back ready
to take on each day,
a little extra protection

I hated the way all of our city nights disappeared into one day-
into one 24-hour span that was decades longer in my dreams.
I know the inevitable place we will end up is in dirt, anyway
so why do I keep trying to dance along concrete?
All I am is a ******* strings,
being pulled in multiple directions
from every conflicting piece of advice I am given.
Maybe I will stop listening
because you, too, will die in the end
and leave behind the same **** thing-
a gravestone
(size depends on how much your loved ones are willing to spend)
or ashes
(carefully put into urns or thrown around and blown by the wind)
and the last one to hold us
is a casket or a ******* jar

so what does your advice really matter

hey i know we're playing by ear,
but if you ever start a band can i be your main roadie,
can i help make your lame t-shirts
can i call people for gigs
even though you'll be nervous to play?
i had a dream things got started
i had a dream i was backstage

Every time I feel nothing I wish I felt anything at all
Tonight I feel longing and loneliness
And i take it back
Anything but the beginning of another broken love poem
I wanted to hate everyone else and take time to try to be content with myself
But every time I see an insect I think of ******* on a park bench
Leaves stuck to my back
I wish I felt nothing
I was getting used to (content with myself alone wanting bones)
I still want my bones to show harder
Paper skin
But I like the friction another flesh outline provides.
I hate that I ever want anything

When I was younger my best friend's sister asked me why my thighs were so much bigger than hers and without missing a beat I scrunched my eyebrows and said, "because my legs are so much stronger."
Since then my self-image is every teenage girl's sob story of not enough this or that, too much one way, too much in general
(i **** in my stomach when you put your arm around my waist)
and I've been trying to tell myself it's strength that matters,
but sometimes jutting bones seem like they'd hold up a little more than the flab of my stomach, like they'd put up a better fight against the sharp looks I'd give myself in the ******* mirror,
and maybe that's why I went from cutting my fleshy thighs to cutting my hip bones because **** my hip bones for being the only bones that weren't covered in fat.
I used to tell myself it'd be easy to skip every meal in exchange for 2 almonds and occasionally a piece of deli-cut turkey, I used to try for days to cut down on acceptable portions, and some days I'd win and I'd eat nothing and sometimes I'd win more and not think about it.
I used to try so hard to wrap my fingers around my ribs or to get my friends to stop saying my *** looked huge ("in a good way") but I was taught when young that overeating was okay because I'd sit at my plate until I swallowed everything that was given to me. I'd sit in the dark on nights I couldn't chew my chicken fast enough, since day 1 I've been a bad eater. I'd get yelled at for being full and now I'm always full but still eating and bones still seem stronger than my jiggly thighs and no, i can't wrap my fingers around my ribs, but if i **** in enough, i can see the outline

I'm not sure I ever loved him
I loved who I thought he was
I loved the idea of love
I loved the comfort
but it couldn't have been love
because his eyes never made me feel the way
yours do

(love is terrifying, not comfortable. love is tender and soft but horrifying)
(love is knowing this will hurt but convincing yourself it is worth it)

love is when you whisper in my ear something like, "I'm just trying to explain how much I like you. I like you sooo much. I could live with you. I just want to kiss you and talk with you and just lay with you if you don't feel like talking, I want to adventure with you. I just....I don't know."

Maybe love isn't real, and who cares
your "I don't know" is enough for me

I don't know either