i sat there,
watching my blood
drip onto my hands,
and on the floor,
seeping through
the rug below me

i sat there,
emotionless,
numb,
and said
"it didn't even hurt"

but sadly,
that was a lie

i can still feel
the knife slicing my skin,
but i liked it

"i'm not a poet,
i'm just a woman"

feminism was never
etched into our minds,
like patriarchy was;

we must find our own voices,
for man cannot do it for you.

maybe i do deserve the pain
i give it to others anyways
doesnt that make me a bad person?
don't i deserve to be punished?

it stops the pain
it makes me feel numb
it helps calm my anger

that's why i do it

i do not weep
because i'm unhappy
i weep because i have everything
yet i am unhappy

He handed me rose with a smile on his face
In each petal was a beautiful lie
The rose touched the tip of my nose
My eyes slowly blinked as my head fell back
I took a light breath over the slightly, wilted petals and just sat still
Feeling everything surrounding me
But, only with my mind
I pull the rose away from my nose and tilt my head a little to the left
I glance at it like it is the most elegant object I’ve ever come across
My finger slid over the soft, thin petal
I watch as I notice a little wind carry out of the rose
It glided past my ear and I hear a slight sort of whisper
“I love you”
My eyes smiled
What a beautiful lie.

j.m.

sinching my waist
smaller
and smaller
every week

i'm not skinny enough

and it never stops
i am never satisfied
when i look in the mirror

i will never be satisfied
if i can't see my ribs
piercing through my skin

i am so desperate for touch:
to be caressed
and kissed
all over my body.

oh, for someone to
touch me like you did
is all i need
on a night like this.

i never believed people
when they said they put on a mask
to hide their pain
but i do it without noticing

i am confident
i am secure

but that's not true
because i do not show the real me
i don't think people would like that side

confidence is key,
right?

there is a strong flame
burning inside of me

every second
of every day

i want to punch a wall
or stab into my skin

but i keep it all inside

society is a prison
it traps you
and steals your individuality.
makes you conform
until you are “normal”

so why don’t we escape?
break the rules?

because we are afraid
afraid of being alone
loneliness rots the mind.
it numbs your heart.

i think we all decided
being trapped together
is better than to be free
and alone.

to this day,
your name still hurts my tongue,
but i say it anyways,
because i like the sting
of knowing you're gone

all those years
dedicated to you,
now i lie here alone,
wondering
why didn't i leave earlier?

everything is lined up perfectly, except my mind.
the urge to fix that blanket consumes me
because if i don't clean,
something bad will happen.

obsessive: unwelcome thoughts, images, urges, worries or doubts that repeatedly appear in my mind

compulsive: repetitive activities that i do to reduce the anxiety caused by the obsession

i am constantly submerged
in an overwhelming amount of anxiety
caused by little things normal people
would never notice.

close my eyes
and pray
i'm enough for you
enough for you

i depend on everything
i depend on people,
on drugs,
on alcohol
to simply numb the pain;
to keep it away

because the truth is too scary:
i don't want to be alive

it's unbearable,
the pain.
i've learned
that i cannot
control it

i cannot control
my need for everything
that makes me feel
nothing

overanalyze every single word you hear
was this a sign that things were going wrong?
no, no,
you were the one who cared too hard,
not them.

stay up every single night on your phone,
either attempting to gather the courage
to turn these demons,
these constant reminders of your loneliness
into nothing more than a bad dream,
or praying just for one second
that you could feel the warmth
of equally returned love

talk down on yourself whenever possible
my life is **** because i deserve it,
right?
you must’ve done something really bad
its nearly impossible for you to cry now

become a secondary character in your own motion picture
but most importantly,
drown every single one of your feelings
in old, stolen ***
learn to love the taste of it dripping down your throat
find comfort in the warmth coming from your stomach
you’re drinking bottled love now.

"how are you, really"
they ask, and give you a smile,
make some meaningless small talk
"i'm fine, and you"

sometimes you tell yourself
those exact words in the mirror
sometimes your smile is a little too convincing

you're never "just tired"
or "a little stressed out"

and sometimes, alone in your bed at night,
you ask yourself
how are you, really,
and the answer is always truthful,
but never simple.

they're fading
you're faking it
do it again
it wasn't deep enough

i am shaking with anger
but trembling with sadness

i feel so lost
i feel so lonely

all of me
was never meant
to be touched by you

i want to push everyone away
so i don't have any more reasons to live
i want to give up
and not feel bad about it
but i love them too much

as i look into the mirror,
i start to notice all of the things
i despise about myself

i notice my pale body
and the veins that protrude through my skin

my fingernails are chipped
from the black and red polish
and the skin around it is peeled
from my teeth

the beauty marks trail down my cheeks
and onto my arms
leaving traces of dark spots everywhere

my green eyes speak of sorrow
and they darken within every night
that i stay awake with my insomnia

i hold my body, without ever looking at, it too closely
and the tears within cry out
in shame

it asks me why i cannot love it,
why i dig into it,
why it's not beautiful enough
and i cannot tell it a good enough reason

i blame the world,
i say it maddens me
and i crave the look of impossible

to my body,
i am terribly sorry for picking apart too many things that you cannot fix

i wish i could be kinder
though it is hard to be
in such a difficult society

i will preach self-love
until it comes to myself

ans

i don't know how to tell you,
but i've always loved you.
you're my best friend,
but i've always felt more.

it's been 2 years:
2 years of looking into your eyes
and knowing you don't feel the same,
because you're straight.

i love your dyed hair,
i love your music taste,
i love your style,
i love you.

we both know you don't love me like that;
but whenever you touch my arm,
or smile with your perfect teeth,
i fall more each time.

it's the small things:
like when you look to the side and think i'm not watching,
or the giggle when i make stupid jokes.
you're perfect for me,
and that's what hurts the most.

they yell at her
because they notice her grades slipping,
how she sleeps all day,
and how she's never home.
but they don't ask her why
they don't notice the cuts,
how she skips meals,
or the alcohol in her system.
they don't realize she cries
to the white noise,
alone, in the dark.
they don't realize she cries
because she misses the little girl she was.

when I walked into the room and saw you
my body did not react like it had
the first time

I waited for my heart to abandon me
for my legs to freeze up
to fall to the ground
crying at your feet

nothing happened
there's no connection
or movement inside when we locked eyes

you looked like a regular girl
with your regular clothes
and regular face
nothing profound about you

I don't give myself enough credit
my body must've cleansed itself of you
a long time ago
must've gotten tired of you
behaving like I was nothing
and rung the insecurities out
while I was busy wallowing in pity

even though we were under the same roof
I was still solar systems away from you

i logged into this app
thinking i knew exactly
what to write,

but i can't even explain
the horrible pain i'm in anymore

my reflection is distorted,
i cannot see who i truly am.
the person looking back at me
is someone i don't recognize.

where did it all go wrong?
where's that little girl who wanted to be older?
where's the daughter that never did anything wrong?

i should've saved her innocence
before it was too late.

i haven't felt pretty recently
i'm constantly trying to find
something different about myself
that i like

it just never seems to appear

"but it made you stronger"
no, it destroyed me
i was 12

sometimes i think
i resented you so much
that it felt like love

the only thing you were good at
was making me feel useless.