Sometimes, even though you reassure me, sometimes I wake up and I wonder if you still like the way I smile

i've always wanted long matches.
i used to be afraid of fire, afraid of the oven, afraid of heat
and then my 8th grade science teacher forced everyone to individually go in front of the class, strike a match, and light a burner
and though my hands were shaking
i got over it
so now i see the extra long matches in the store and i want them
to strike over and over
maybe light candles
and my hands won't shake, i don't think

sometimes when you're delirious, shirt off, still looking at the ceiling instead of at a screen,
you suggest things we could do
and sometimes i mistake the suggestions for things you think we should do,
so now i try not to take coulds too seriously
because ideas are not plans.

i like the needles in my chest
i like it when you wiggle them around
my flesh is so twitchy
itching lately to get you off my mind
but i can't manage. (i like you there)
taking in long slow breaths so my lungs don't bash my heart and ribs
trying hard not to write another love poem

but god, when you say my name...
-
i like it when my arms swim and float around the glares of light
i like it when my arms find their way to a place wrapped with you
-
this is a love poem

i hope you sleep well and don't have dreams of cement blocks tied to your ankles while you're diving off the dock.
i hope your leather bound heart keeps all the ink in and that you trust yourself with a ******* pen, i hope you mean every kiss,
i hope everyone starts telling the truth,
starts making it clear,
"never let someone you love doubt that you love them."

i'm infatuated and stupid for it

you are a grave and I am the flowers
you wait for me ever so softly...
I try to be pretty, you try to remember
just let your brain melt out so smoothly...
there is no more grass surrounding your tombstone
and I struggle hard to survive...
You reach up and pull me under the soil
"come on, you're a waste being alive."

It's 4am and I am hungry but ignoring it
I am failing but ignoring it
I have put my dreams into the back pocket of jeans that are a little too big for me now
because things have changed
(me especially)

It's 4am and I am not sure I care if I fail or succeed
what would make me a failure, anyway
and whose terms am I living on?

My best friend was in my dream last night
happy and dancing beside me again
and nobody ripped their bones in half
or bit through their lips
or drowned.

Exploring the dirt
chance in my pocket
nothing but a backpack and hope
that I will never
ever
get bored

i don't think i know who i am anymore.
i know what i do
stuff i like
but *******
i s  t h i s  m y  b o d y ?
my fingers are just some girl's fingers
my brain just a brain
forcing me through the actions.
where'd my mind go?
am i finally boring?
does boring mean i can rest in peace,
or is this the beginning of a long cycle of discovery where I go back and forth of growing out of myself and fitting back into my skin ?

I ******* hate it when people say "scars are beautiful"
because what is ******* beautiful about
2am and rummaging through rooms to find something sharp
desperation clawing in the back of your throat
because you can't breathe this time until you bleed again
What the **** is beautiful about the emptiness you feel
when pressing a razor to your skin
(and there is nothing behind your ribs, you stone-cold *****)
What is beautiful about the moment you finally 'wake up'
and realize what you've done and who will have to see this
("No, I'm fine, No, it's not your fault it's not your fault it's not your-")
What is beautiful about the next morning
or the next week
the next month
when the mark is still there
to ******* remind you
(you can't run from the past)

it feels like a classic cliche
walking hand in hand through arteries
when you are gone, so is half of me
everyone should find someone who let's them say anything
With you, I am a bleeding heart ready to place myself in the palm of your hand for a tiny squeeze of life before tucking back into my rib cage
And it is not too much or dependence
And this is the love I've always wanted

i'm sorry i'm never sure
but i never am.
I want to get high because I'm tired of a lot
and I'm cleaning up my room but i'll never learn to clean up my act
and what would be the point of that, anyway
(what's the point in anything)
(what's the point in any of this)
tired of planning and hoping and dreaming of success
when i can't even think of what success is
when walking around strung out
seeing in black and white
lighting up and stumbling through bed sheets
doesn't sound so ******* bad
because you can't be bored if you're a drug addict, right?
i've already got my tombstone picked out
i've already drowned and i'll already die in a car crash
or get ***** in a city
and why do my nightmares get so tragic
when i've never really experienced a tragedy
Maybe we are all just walking tragedies
waiting for our time of disaster
SOME DAYS I HAVE HOPE
SOME DAYS I HOPE FOR AN OVERDOSE

godddddd i am just trying to enjoy the time i have but sometimes i don't know how i ***** that up so easily

It smells like
pizza
and
***
and I am still a
pizza-less
******.

wondering where my veins are
parallel with consonants
wish i knew how to communicate without
darting eyes
and twitchy fingers
every vowel sound you make gets stuck on my eardrum
we echo
and i hear it every time the clock i can't find but keep hearing in my room ticks
i didn't think i had a clock
it's so loud when i'm trying to sleep

i wonder where your hands will be in a year
i dream your fingers might still intertwine with mine

We are the backwards
sleeping in underwear and crawling through covers
to hide from the only person that has seen every part of us.
They always find us, though,
so we burrow into their shoulders...
hoping their scent will act as medicine.

And it does.

stop worrying so much about the future
because the future never comes, remember?

even my insecurities take up a mere fraction of my mind
when i'm still so focused on your smile and bedroom and small wave, telling me to move closer

i don't have much room to dwell on my bad thoughts for too long

regardless, it's too late, i'm not taking care of myself,
and i'm really glad you still like me enough
to hug me tightly when i need it

but i have always been and will always be a girl who doesn't like to need very much

sleeping bags and back seats
and blue eyes that keep looking at me
trunks of cars and waterfalls
cemeteries and big rocks
ice cream joints and dirt paths
and anywhere that you're at

you are capturing my mind

I still don't know what's most important to me
still don't know where I want to go or end up
I still don't know how I'll have fun
and I occasionally worry about it
but I'm hoping maybe one day I'll know exactly what I want
(the whole thought process is so cliche)

for now I'll just get dressed and take pictures and kiss

I want your lips to tremble as I look you in the eye
and hook my fingers in your belt loops.
Lick my lips,
I am a big meal to take in,
and being a bad influence takes a lot of work, you know.

just ******* kick me in the shins,
wrench your fist into my rib cage,
don't quit pulling apart my lungs so I can't breathe.
life is a ******* game,
i'm being played

Pinching at my extra skin
(Scratch it for me, I'll moan)
What are your intentions now?
How do I figure them out?
Do I want to know

i wish i never happened,
i wish i was never born

it doesn't matter
i just want to matter to you

I haven't felt like writing much, lately
I haven't felt like a lot of things I used to
I haven't felt

usually unsure how you feel about me
that's okay

it's so nice to move and glide and jump
and forget about everything but my own ******* body

my favorite hellopoetry user no longer writes on here
i don't know if she writes at all anymore
i don't know if she's even alive

why do i still write on here
why do i write at all
why am i even alive

don't worry about me, it's not your job to
don't worry about the way I sleep
or the way I keep
my sanity.
I know a few people who care more about me than I care about myself

i'd rather look at him
than look really anywhere

and when i look anywhere else
it's cool to be holding his hand

sometimes the light hits my world so perfectly, and i always have picture perfect moments of sun beams on his smile
he'll remember me squinting (trying to see past the glare)

my problems are so minuscule and i'm so fortunate
but hey, i'm still complaining
everyone's sad and angry and ******* up for no reason
and finally,
no one gives a **** if you smoke cigarettes,
just don't pretend you're impressing anyone by doing it.
i've been saving cool cig holders on my online wishlists since i was 14
it's never been a new idea.
i'm sorry but i've been sad lately,
-one day maybe i'll get a therapist-
but for tonight i just whispered to myself,
"you have to stop."
because i've always wanted to want nothing
and i need to thicken my skin and stop caring.
it doesn't matter what happens
no one will remember you for as long as you want them to, anyway

But next to my tombstone, sunflowers won't grow,
and what would it matter anyway,
I wouldn't be there to see them

is there something to be said about this?
letting it out, but only quietly
only in secret
speaking into the void so no one hears me thinking
i think it'd be embarrassing, having everyone see you mutter words, you chose those words, you structured them that way, and you want the world to listen to them, lacking composure?
i think it'd be embarrassing.
But instead i prefer vague public interpretation, you tell me what you think i'm thinking, does this arm movement tell you what i am craving, does this ****** shaking show you that i am not content, does me on stage twirling around for a paying audience make this crystal clear?
I'd never tell you what i was thinking, but here's a little summary, take it how you want and judge me for it.

Red tinted teeth
Stained nicotine
I am so comfortable alone, but only after I've checked each closet for monsters

fingernails are pretty evident on black t-shirts,
clippings from my teeth that prove they might be right when they say I always look nervous
I forgot people might see how anxious I feel.
I thought I looked intimidating

remember to occasionally remember me

most of my feelings are pointless insecurities that i'd be better off shaking out
BUT REMINDER:
AT LEAST I AM FEELING

I'm sorry you're so clinically sad
and I'm sorry I don't know what you're thinking
I'm sorry I keep apologizing for things that aren't my fault
but I wish I could help you (in some way, any way)
I wish you would let me

maybe sometimes i wish you'd stab me in the arms and legs,
stab me so it hurts,
stab me in the eyes so i can no longer see the ******* color of yours
(they make me crazy, anyway)

this is called, insecurity
this is called, you're ******* perfect and i wish you'd see it
this is called, i like you
i really like you

and i know you were drunk
but the tragedy of last night is that i believed every sweet word you said

wish I'd paint my entire face pink so you'd never see me blush
(or always see me blush)
wish I could tell you what I really want

I just have scenarios in my head where I get to turn to you and be so open and honest
and we're laying in your bed and I feel so present and there and real
and we're both physically tired but mentally racing
and I ask you if you really believe in love...in all of this
and I ask you to explain what you feel with me
and you don't think it's dumb, and I can't imagine what you say.
maybe one day soon the scenario will play out
but daydreams are just daydreams
maybe I'll ask you anyway

you've given me good memories in backseats
(we're getting good at 'being bad')
we could get into actual trouble
and i'd still do it all over again tomorrow

I like how every awkward thing doesn't feel awkward
and I like how you tease me about things that you're only half kidding about.
I like watching you lick your lips and I like wearing your t-shirt
and I like bumping into you as we walk down back roads at 1 am.

i constantly embarrass myself
and even though i don't want to be a fool,
I'm glad you're the one i'm embarrassing myself with

Don't worry about me
When I write,
I usually just need sleep

You know you're the greatest, though
Every day is a pleasure

My first love was so pure
We are all so toxic and broken now
Nothing will ever be so innocent and selfless again
15 and best friends, figuring out how to kiss

I SHOULD HAVE INVITED YOU IN