Dedicated to Autumn Nolen and Katie Ormsby*


Sewed little pink stitches,
all over my broken heart.
Soothed my worries
with sweet words
and reality T.V.
I had forgot how important,
friendship is.
Late night talks and afternoon hikes,
little black dresses and curling irons
Our hands interwoven,
laughed through dark streets,
and bright rooms.
Smoke and sunshine and sisterhood.
I am so thankful,
to have friends like you.

I was born a little fat baby,
with eyes shining blue under a cloud of regret.

I was their marriage bond,
A single mother and her manager
and this new crying child that neither of them knew what to do with.

They didn't know what to do with each other.

I was raised on shattered glasses,
broken trinkets,
and holes in the wall
all souvenirs of my father's anger and my mothers fear.

I was raised on sleeping on my brothers floor
because the screaming was too bad to hear on my own.

I learned my lessons on submission on my mothers fingertips,
as she would sweep the glass,
wipe the blood,
and make breakfast while humming, as though these things were just another part of a family dynamic.

And when I was 15, and I threw back a shot of ***** for the very first time,
I found I had learned lessons on dependence
from my fathers daily sin.

My parents tried to un-write their failures in me,
Telling me all the things not to do,
as they handed me a meticulously crafted manual
on exactly how to do them.

I was a shining baby,
and when my dad started to see his regrets in my mother,
and then in me,
he left the state without a single goodbye.

I was a shining baby,
with blue eyes and soft hair,
and I watched my mother cry for months,
as she moved us from fresh start to fresh start.

I was expected to be a prodigal daughter,
forged in the ashes of the lives
that the shining baby burned down.

I crumbled,
I am not a prodigy,
I am a ******-up girl
with enough mistakes stacked up at my young age,
to make my father proud.


I don't want to be a success
I don't want to be a failure
I don't want to be

The second cup of coffee,
the first was not enough.
I need more gold caffeine.
I need a lot of things
We used to drink it together,
now I drink it by myself
every morning
I'd bring you a big cup
and you'd ask me if I made it with love
of course I did.
Now my own cup,
tastes bitter
regardless of the amount of creamer used.
I'm on my second cup of coffee,
the first was not enough

I am covered in scars,
from your lips,
from your words,
from your hands.
I am stitched together
with your
insecurities,
I have always been
too impressionable.

I have your language,
in scripted onto my tongue.
my taste-buds
are formed as the braille
of your promises,
I have alway been
too attached

I am learning,
how to put dye over memories,
to make them
not as evil,
because I cannot learn
to forget.
I have always been
too sensitive.

I am many things,
and you are many more
and we were so many shapes together,
as we sifted through each other
trying to make something beautiful.
*I have always been,
too sentimental

We were 6 years old, we were innocent, we we're playing. Just playing, in the most innocent sense of the word. With dolls, or blocks, or trucks, or dirt. I don't remember. We we're playing and then we weren't. We were playing and then the darkness came, and it took away our blocks. It took away our safety net of protection and threw us down the slide of demons.
Your demons. His demons.
We were 7 years old, we were innocent, we we're singing. Just singing, in the most innocent sense of the word. Songs, or lullabys, or comercials, or imporved words. I don't remember. We we're singing, and then we weren't. The darkness struck again, and this time hit us hard with liquor filth and stench.
Your stink, his drink.
We were 8 years old,  we were still innocent, we were riding. Just riding, in the most innocent sense of the word. Bikes, or scooters, or rollerblades, or skateboards. I don't remember. We we're riding, and then we weren't. The darkness grabbed our wheels and lurched us onto the pavement 'till our skin ran red and he told us we were *****.
His fault, our blood.

We were 9 years old, we still had bits of innocense, we were running. Just running, but not so innocent. On feet, we ran. I remember. We ran towards the sunset, quickly, but not quick enough. The darkness caught up to us, panting. Struck through us with quivering blades, and took away every drop of innocense left.
His addiction, our innocense.

We were 10 years old, we no longer had any innocense, we got away. A big man in blue took the crying darkness away, and stored him in a box made of cement and metal. Darkness said he'd see us when we were 18, thinking we loved him. Loved him through his addiction, because deep down there was light? And we were good girls, weren't we? We could see the light in him, right?
No light, Only darkness.

I built a home inside of you,
I pulled your arms around me
as though they were the only walls I had,
and I carved my initials onto your lips
like the ones still on the front concrete of the house I was born in.
It didn't matter what was outside of us,
where we were together
the lights were on, the bed unmade, and the fire was nowhere near dying.
I built a home in you so long ago,
and I've moved so many times
it felt good to have a permanent residence.
But I should have known better,
than to have built my life inside of someone,
Because when you were sad,
the roof would leak,
and when you were angry
my walls would shake,
and when I left you,
my home crumbled
and I felt naked and cold
so I slept on our abandoned foundation
trying to pretend
that you were still there beside me.
*You were the hardest goodbye I have ever said

Stuck on the puzzle,
I would hang myself up for weeks
searching.

Where is the last place you heard me sing?
I forgot how exactly
that one tune goes.
but when I turn around,
I can almost hear
you hum it.

I was told to stop
looking back
I will **** myself,
if I grovel in the past.

Nights have always been rough
I'm scared you see,
darkness
It's like I am still a child

I peek out my windows
turn on my nightlight
bury myself in your shoulders,
but where are you?

Stuck on the puzzle,
looking for the missing piece,
but you weren't it
you never were.

Whoops,
I went and lost my balance
again.

I've got
so many scrapes,
and scars.
I am armed from head to toe
with calloused skin.

So, naturally
I checked my feet
for stability
before I reached
for the stars;
but it started raining,
and I slipped.

Things have been so hard
since you left.

I don't remember exactly what your lips tasted like anymore,
or how your hands felt on my skin
or how you sounded when you told me how much you loved me
I'm starting to forget your smell,
your scars
your words
you are starting to fade,
and I don't know if I'm happy about this
or scared
because part of me wants to hold on to whatever I can of you,
because forgetting you
is like losing you all over again,
but maybe I don't want to remember