Take it back, please
I do not want
Your gift anymore because
It lives in my sheets
Making it hard to sleep
Every night
I am thinking
About him
And whether or
Not
My gift hides in his
Sheets, or
If it is tucked
Away in a closet
Of embarrassing laundry
His mother will never
Clean

Florescent lights
An unbreakable chill
Patterned tile

Shaking bones
An over-sized blue gown
And a small white bracelet

My curfew is twelve

And tonight I ran home barefoot
Because my mother does not tolerate
Lateness, so it's 11:55 and I'm drunk
Running and wanting to
Stop because my feet are
Sore, but
I know if I'm late home I will miss a
Weekend of you, so when I run
With each footstep into gravel,
I think of the kisses
You put on my cheek, and
Run even faster,
Knowing I can't take another day
Without your gentle cheek
Kisses

Whenever I get in a car I make sure the doors are locked
I do this because I like to lean against the window with my whole body
It's terrifying to think that the door could just fly open and I could fall out
Sometimes I make sure everyone's doors are locked
It's sort of a pet peeve of mine
Or maybe it's more of an anxiety

I climbed into the back seat of my dad's big red truck last night
I leaned against the door like I always do
But I didn't lock the door,
Actually I made sure it was unlocked
You could say I was waiting for something bad to happen
The truth is I wasn't waiting, I was wishing

Twilight laughter from two children
Jumping on a trampoline, kissing because
That's what they were taught to do
And he grabs her hand and hushes her
Twilight kisses into the house,
Up the stairs with the door
Closed behind them
And she has a shy smile while
He can't stop looking at the floor
But these twilight children make sure they are
Quiet, mimicking their parents because
His father is sleeping downstairs
So they kiss off their clothing,
Pretending they don't want their
Twilight innocence, eager to
Experience something new, telling themselves
They are all grown up
But they are wrong because
When she goes out to dinner she still
Begs for dessert, and he
Refuses to sleep without a light on, awaken by
Nightmares of the future

But the twilight laughter is stolen and replaced with
Midnight panting in a hurry to
Grow up, giving up innocent youth
In an attempt to love, and that is one exchange
You can never reverse, and that is
A mistake we're all guilty of

I miss my twilight laughter

Slip, fall
No movement for a couple seconds
Passed out on the floor
Blood covers his face and shirt
Responsible drinking Dad

"Get him up!"
Panic quickly enters the room
So close,
But he collapses again

"Call 911!"
My hands are shaking
As I dial for help
"Hello where do you live"
More questions are asked while they are still trying to stand him up

Bright flashing lights take control of everyone's attention
He is conscious now sitting with the police
Drunk fingers hold mine tightly for support
But why should I support him?

The bright lights take him off to where he will be spending the night
When we get there he is lying down in a room
"Someone give me a gun, I need to die"
Dad, you're drunk
Tears fill up in my eyes as I sit and watch my father figure in a new light
"Plummy, do you have a gun for me?"

A little part of me dies when he says that
I feel sick to my stomach, where is the dad I used to know?
No Dad, I don't have a gun
He looks at me with sadness and embarrassment
But I cannot get myself to look back with love and support
So I just don't look at him

I never let myself judge him because of things like this
Tonight that idea changed in my head
I just hope this is a wake up call for him too

I stare at you
Sitting in front of me,
And I feel horrible

You ask me why we haven't
Spoken in weeks and I'm
So sorry, but this time
I am the villain and you
Are the innocent
I am the user, and you
Are the used

I can't explain why I
Do the things I do,
But I hope you can feel my
Sympathetic stare on the back of your head
And realize I never meant
To hurt you

My mom was physically and sexually abused for
Eight years of her childhood
His name was Richie, the boyfriend of her
Mother, she kept him in the
Picture for eight whole years
And let her three young daughters have their
Childhood stolen for a man with
Too many belts

My mom was six when he entered the "family"
And fourteen when she left with a plan,
Never to talk to her mother again, but
Today my mother told me why we always
Visited Grandma when she became sick,
She told me
God made us to be forgiving, so she turned her
Hate into sorrow and
Belt marks into
Scrabble games around the dinner table

Every night we say a prayer
Hoping Grandma is in a better place, but
Tonight I can't help but stutter over
The words I barely mean because
God made us to be forgiving
But eight years is a long time
Lost

We drove around town when it was
So early in the morning the neighborhoods were still asleep
And the perfect temperature brought us chills
That ran through our t-shirts, keeping us awake
And feeling alive

The music echoed through empty streets as we sat there,
Smiling at the road ahead
I had that tremendous feeling of just being content
The feeling you get when you
Can't seem to stop smiling because everything is just
So perfect for those few minutes

And when we went back home, we never slept
Because we stayed up all night talking,
I haven't felt that innocent in a long time

I looked up at him and we both smiled
Finally, a friend I could be myself around
Someone who was more concerned about my life
Rather than how much I was willing to put out

"In the most platonic sense of the word, I really do love you"

I wrapped my arms around him after he said this and closed my eyes, because
Driving through those empty streets sharing a feeling
I haven't felt in a while, and hearing those perfect words,
Could put me right to sleep, and they did

I'm reading a book about
Eating disorders, and all I can think about
Is the hospital with the light blue walls
And the tiredness you feel after
Hours of crying and sobbing, followed by
More crying
I think about the young nurse grabbing my arm
And pulling me out of the bathroom to weigh me
And before I step up, she gives me an option
To stand looking towards her, making it so
I can't see the scale,
An option I gladly take
But when I get off the scale,
She mutters my number anyways
As she scribbles down notes on the yellow paper
That has my name written at the top, sending me
Running back to the light blue bathroom
Crying

I don't think
That feeling of tiredness caused by
Crying in front of the mirror
Has ever left, I think that feeling is here
To stay

“We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for.”
— John Keating, Dead Poets Society

My parent's bed makes my back sore
But last night I came in at one
Because my father was gone and
My mother was
Crying

It's not your fault, Dad
But I want to sleep in the comfort
Of knowing what's going on

Don't let my back be sore forever
Don't leave us in the dark

I stare at the fight in the living room
Between my mother and me
From a distance,
Out of my body, I am disconnected because
She accuses me of harvesting
"Mental problems" while I drunkenly slur
Every self loathing thought I've lived with during
My short life, wishing it would end
And she screams "You have no idea what could have
Happened to you tonight, you're lucky no one
Took advantage of you"
Everything stops and I'm back in my body,
Looking at the fight from my point of view,
Her scowling face waiting for an answer,
"You're wrong."
Because I know that risk all too well
And she has no
Idea

When the burning leaves of autumn
Begin to fall, I can't help but wonder if
We will be keeping each other
Warm, because this season
Is always more comfortable when spending it
With your coffee mugs and record player
Because the weather is getting too
Cold to love alone, and you
Are my perfect company

I met a girl when I was drunk
We sat on a couch, closer than strangers might
Usually sit because our legs brushed whenever we
Moved, and
With all the people rushing past I couldn't help
But think how romantic it was,
Just getting acquainted
With the background noise of a small house party
Because our conversation was innocent and
She acted differently than all the other
Drunk girls

I noticed her smile was shy but her conversation
Was intense; her eyes lit up when she talked
And the way she looked at me
When I told my story, let me know she was
Really listening, and I think that says a lot
About the girl I met on a couch
When we were both
Drunk

My feelings are
Nipping at the heels of
My thoughts, which are
Nipping at the
Heels of my actions
And

I've never felt
So

Strange

In a race
Only with

Myself,
It's dragging on


Forever

I feel like crying when someone asks me to talk about myself
And I can only try to explain why
But self reflection tends to only see the bad things
I do not fit in with everyone else like I am expected too
Maybe I'm being dramatic, but I am constantly feeling like
Something is wrong with me, something has been off since I was born
And I am just finding out about it now

This is why I push away people
As quickly as I push away my meals
And why even now I sit here in tears typing away at a ****** poem
Or why scars cover my thighs and baggy clothes hide my figure
Why everyone I had known since a child slowly forced me out of their lives

So when someone asks me to talk about myself
These things are what come to mind, but
Overwhelmed with a feeling a failure, I still manage to sell a shy smile
And say something simple like:
"I like to sail and run cross country"
Because that's what they want to hear,
And I will wait until I meet another person that will ask, and maybe
I'll fork up the courage to spill everything out,
But probably not, I feel pretend

Maybe I'm over thinking things
Or maybe I'm right on target
But I think I met you for a reason
...
I hope I did

Maybe I'm trying
To grow up
A little too
Fast, because
When you push
Me against the couch
And arrange me
The way you
Want,
I never seem to
Have the courage
To softly speak,
"Stop"

But

I just think
Maybe,
I tried to grow up
Too fast, and now I'm in
Over my head
Screaming only to myself,
"Stop"

This isn't me

You asked me how I would spend
My last twenty-four hours if they started
At this very moment

We talked late at night planning all the
Things we'd have to do, like camping
Or watching the sunset
But I was too afraid to admit that
I would only need to fall asleep
Next to you with your lips
pressed against mine, and I'd die happy

I got to thinking and realized come August,
We will all be spending our last twenty-four hours
Together in the summer sun, and then
College will take us far away to start our
Separate adventures out of this small town

Sitting in my bed late at night
I couldn't help but cry because if there's
Anything I'm more afraid of than death
It's being alone, and I can't take another year
Of starting over

Your couch has gone from
Mysterious to
Comfortable, quickly to
Inviting, and then
Peaceful,
Becoming necessary and
Right before my eyes it changes to
Lusting, then a chance of
Loving, and back to lusting, until
Another wide turn to the start:
Mysterious.
But it never goes back to
Comfortable again, it is
Frightening, another change
To inevitable,
Controlling to
Addicting, and soon
I am thinking in
Circles, back to lusting,
But the couch has stayed
The same, and
It is only me who is seeing things
Differently

When I was ten I would go to work with my mom
She worked at a preschool in a not-so-great town
There was one girl who was my favorite
Her name was Trinitaria.

During nap time she asked me to lay with her, so I did
And I remember she said things to me
That I didn't quite understand

A few days ago I took a child abuse prevention course
Because I'm working at a camp this summer
I went home and asked my mom
About Trinitaria, what happened to her

She looked surprised and worried
She told me her adopted father sexually abused her
It was an ongoing case that I was too young to understand

This course I took taught me the signs of abused children trying to open up
And I suddenly realized I could have helped my friend Trinny

But while her innocence was being stolen, mine was busy shielding my eyes and hiding a reality
She couldn't escape from

I do not recognize the image in the mirror
Staring back at me with red weeping eyes
Eyes that only wish to see someone else
Someone better

But the image won't change, and I panic
"If you don't calm down I will send you to the ER again"
My head is pounding, why can't I just act normal?
I'm not insane, I know it

Anything but the hospital again, please
There is nothing worse than those fluorescent lights
And the sympathetic smiles of strangers

I do not recognize the image in the mirror
Glaring back at me with disappointed eyes
Eyes that wish I was someone to be proud of
Someone that isn't me

Seven months wasted, because when I think
Of us, I think of the day you
Told me I wasn't thin, and the nights
You would tell me to leave you alone
And the next mornings where
I was expected to be in your bed
Followed by the day
You dumped me because of a
Pregnancy scare,
And how I was always too
Childish
Or how I wasn't allowed
To hang out with other boys
The day I dyed my hair, you said you liked it better
Before, and when you got mad
Because I didn't want to ******* right when
You wanted it,

So when I think of
You,
I think of seven months wasted
And no, I don't smile

I sit here alone
And contemplate
The small plastic bottle
That holds my fate.
And on that note,
I sign off dearly
As the girl
Who wouldn't see
He was standing in front her
willingly.

New born babies don't have fully developed lungs

When I was thirteen my mother told me
The story of my birth,
December 29th 1995

She brought me home, but something wasn't
Right, because I was blue and didn't
Move
She took me to the children's hospital
Where I stayed for two weeks, but
This poem isn't about me,

Because there was a lot of other blue babies too
All with the same underdeveloped lungs
And still bodies,
There was one baby
Who was in the room next to mine,
Just beyond the thin hospital curtain

Every night her mother would sit next to
Her, her with tubes up and down her veins
Laying in that little plastic box
Meant to keep the blue babies alive

This women would sing Amazing Grace
To her newborn, and according to my mother
She had a beautiful voice

She was praying nothing would happen
To her blue baby, and so was
My mother, but for me

One night the women's voice wasn't singing
Anymore, the lullaby was over and she
Was screaming
Because I'm the one writing this poem
And her singing couldn't make her baby
Any less blue

That baby's little plastic box couldn't do its job,
So now the mother is feeling the same way

And the screaming was
Heart wrenching, something I never want to
Feel,
A scream my mother never wanted
To hear

Today I went into the ocean
And my lips turned blue, along with my hands and legs
I couldn't help myself from thinking
Of that blue baby and Amazing Grace

Sometimes I wish I was the
Blue baby, and that the Amazing-Grace-Mother's
Words could have meant something
More
Than the stillness of a baby with
Underdeveloped lungs

I've decided to stop
For real this time, I won't go back
So please stop texting me with lies,
I am trying so hard to build
Enough confidence to tell myself I
Don't need you anymore
And you're making this
Really hard
I'm tired of coming home sore
With no excuses left to tell myself anymore,
So please let me be,
I have decided to stop
But that word doesn't seem to be in your
Dictionary

We talk as if
Your hands have more wrinkles
And your eyes have seen
The world

As if
I don't deserve your
Time or effort because
You don't want to be seen with
An embarrassment like me, because
I haven't "lived"

But please don't forget
You once looked at me with
Eyes that didn't need
To see the world,
And once, your inexperienced
Hands were used for learning the curves
Of my body rather than illustrating
The journeys that have made you so
Cultured and wise

Darling, I'm so sorry, but
You've got it all wrong
As if you know what
It really means to
Live

There is nothing worse in the world than
Yelling, I can't take the pressure
Being put on my back
Waiting
For me to collapse, because
You use those words
To break me
Down, and there is nothing giving me the strength to
Get back up.

So why can't you turn your
Anger into love
The same way I turn my
Sorrow
Into forgiveness?
Please stop
Tearing me
Down,
One yell at a time

I can feel myself
Slipping
Away

I wondered what you were thinking
When your hands moved up and down my scratchy sweater
As you lay with me with comforting arms

I wondered where I would be in five years
When the people we know become the people we knew
As we grow into entirely different people

I wondered why nothing was making sense
When everything crashed down on me at once
As you tried to explain to me in a previous story

I wondered about the things that will matter
When we're living in nursing homes retelling the only stories we can remember
As if anything could possibly matter by then anyways

I wondered what it would be like to die
When I can't live anymore
As your arms wrapped me in a tighter embrace

I wondered about you and me
When our time runs out if it ever will
As you traced my hand with your finger

I wondered why I was crying and couldn't find an answer
When you asked me what was wrong
As you lay down next to me and cradled me in your bed

I want to write a poem about how I'm feeling
But it'll just come out bad
And people will misinterpret it
Then I'll just feel stupid for even trying
So here it is, the feeling of sadness

Maybe had I been Alice I'd be more fortunate
I'll fall into one of my day dreams and get out of this town
What does it take to slip into that happy fantasy?

But instead red drips pretty
It pools and forms beautiful roses on the bathroom tile
Can't pick them up, they don't smell like flowers

If only I had met the rabbit down the hole
Maybe he could have shown me the real flowers in that not-so-real world,
That life of adventure would be enough to make me happy

But my roses are fading along with the rest of the room
Turning into black, and I'm eye level with these pools of pretty
I guess this is me slipping out of this dreadful town into my day dreams, finally