I'm another
textbook
definition
of what
the kids
shouldn't
be.

(10w)
-Andrew Durst.

I'm not the poet who uses sophisticated language
I'm not the kid my parents would be proud of
I'm not the student the teacher praises
I'm not the friend who people turn to

I'm not anyone's best friend
I'm not anyone's favorite
I'm not anyone's first choice
I'm not even my own believer

I want to fix my life
Yet I want to end it
I want to be better
Yet I'm tired of trying

What is wrong with me?

you love him
you love his smooth hands and his rough cheek
you love your hands in his denim shirt
and the cinematography of you together
everything else is an afterthought

the knife in his eyes that is not always pointed at you
but when it is
you kiss the fist that rattles plates
the lips that wrap around clenched teeth
melt him

fail to understand his poison tipped arrows
that are aimed at the mother who threw bottles
if he could only pick one more fight it'd be with his father
you kiss him when he knocks his brother's teeth out

he leaves in the morning for coffee and comes back a day later
welcome him with open arms and abundant questions
he will be a tower of irritation and concrete
he will point fingers that will curl into fists
but they are not fists for you
they are for the devils that dance within him
and behind his wild eyes
and in his childhood home

you will not be fooled
he loves you
you know by every sweetheart and the lips on your forehead and the way he smells in between the sheets each night

he leaves
he comes back
purple flowers that bloom around his eyes are the bouquets he brings home for you
the front porch sags when he puts his hands in his pockets
his face buried in your chest
on nights when the lamp swings a little too low
and his body is wracked with sobbing and shoulders shaking

he mourns the gentle temper he never had
he mourns what he would be like without you
he mourns what you would be like without him
this is how he loves you

your hands in his hair easing soothing shh shh
you are the mother who left
you are better than every last ex-girlfriend
for reasons he will be happy to name
this is how you love him

you came because you are drawn to the shipwrecks
but you stayed in the water for him
ancient child
furious soul
you salt his wounds
and then you clean them
this is how you love him

We're
         falling
                in
                   love;
And the rest
is just
science.

Suicide seems so bitter-sweet
Bitter: You are dead
Sweet: You get to choose when
Although I have craved
That simple taste of death
I was never brave enough
To end it all at once
So I have substituted that bitter-sweet death
With the bitter-sweet taste
Of a lit cigarette
Killing myself slowly
One inhale at a time