Every make-up has a name,
Every shade is labeled differently.
Her lipstick is called Trapped
It’s a beautiful blood red
She applies to the corners of her lips
To accent their shape.
She always couples that with
But He Still Loves Me, her blush.
A purple, yellow and green combination
To make her cheekbones pop.
Her eye shadow is called
I'll Try Better Next Time
When applied it gives her a
Perfect smoky eye.
Her foundation comes in
A socially accepted beige titled:
*Everything’s Fine, I Promise

he won’t text me back.
is that bad?
does he like me?
should i text first?
i’m gonna text first.
he didn’t respond.
this is important.
am i not cute?
why won’t he text me today?
am i a bad kisser?
will he ever come around?
i really like him.
does he like me?
what am i doing?
am i overreacting?
why won’t he text me back?

I don't very much like compliments anymore.
Please, please don't call me beautiful.
I'm still trying to cope with the last time
I was called beautiful,
I wouldn't a' ****** ya
if you weren't
How reassuring,
he said it as though my beauty
was the only reason I was graced
with the gift of his ****.
It wasn't the drinking
or the party
or the conversations we held.
Only my beauty.  

Beautiful
is what the men who are
twice, no, three times, my age
nod at me as I walk to work.

Beautiful
is the nickname given to me
by one night stands
who can't seem to remember
my name is Nicholle.

Beautiful
feels like his hands silhouetting
my body after I told him to stop.

Beautiful
just reminds me of how hollow I feel
at the end of the day

Beautiful
is an understatement
for everything I am.

So please, find another way
to compliment me,
a different adjective
to describe me looks.
Or better yet don't
compliment my looks,
I am so much more.
You can compliment
my words
my soul,
the way I make you feel.

Pigtails and a rosary in my hand.
that's the little girl I used to be.
I liked her,
Innocence flowing free.
Whenever she had a problem
she turned to God.
Believin' He'd fill her every will.
Prayin' through the good,
the bad and all in between.
A faithful little teen.

I think she'd hate me.

I wish I could say you don't matter to me
but these tears in my eyes tell a different story.
This tear, right here, is for the first time we kissed.
The one to follow is for the night I realized
it meant nothing to you.
God, I'm envious of your apathy,
of your don't give a **** persona,
because it's clear to me that I gave too many *****
to all the wrong people.

I've got songs that remind me
of you on repeat
and a half bottle of stolen *****.

This is what my life has turned into:

Tear stained pillows
and lying to my friends.


I knew you were trouble
and so did everyone else in
the ******* world,
but I just had to taste you.

I now know how Eve went about
eating the forbidden fruit.
She just wanted a taste,
a little bite wouldn't hurt anybody.
But nibble after nibble the fruit was gone
and all that was left was a rotten aftertaste
of regret and cigarettes.

i guess it didn't happen.
i made it up.
it never happened.
i guess my imagination
has a sick sense of humor.
because he said it never happened.
he was never in my room that night.
we never kissed.
we never ******.
it's all in my head.
because he's a good guy.
and i'm a drunk mess.