You said your words always came in threads
Stitch me up
patch up my insercutries with your sewing machine lips
let me use them to sew the memory of you into the fabric of my mind
I want to embroider our broken pieces and make a quilt out of us

Your handshake
is about as firm as a thousand year old bridge
and thats when I realized
you were crumbling

Six
I showed up in an orange polo
blue jeans, a blonde bowl cut
and the latest light up barbie shoes
my mother dropped me at my classroom door
she left with tears in swelling her eyes
because I was the only child who wasn't clinging to her like the last strand of hope I had
she was so proud
I was on top of the world
until you tore me down
threw your wooden cities in my face
and told me I belonged with the boys

Eight
I showed up in a pink dress
white flats, and shirley temple curls
my mother sent me to school that day
she left with a twinkle in her eye
because I was the only kid in our minivan who wasn't faking fevers
she was proud
I made myself known
until I sat criss cross in that cotton candy dress
and you told me that girls dont sit like I do
and that I belong with the boys

Twelve
I showed up in pink jeans
a graphic giraffe T, straight shoulder length locks
and black chuck taylors
My mother dropped me off that day
her eyes watched me until I was safely inside
because she knew I was nervous
I took junior high by storm
she was proud
you took note of my sports bra
laughed at my cardboard chest
and told me I belonged with the boys

Thirteen
I showed up in basketball shorts
a simple T, shoulder length hair
and tennis shoes
I walked to school that day
My mother was still sleeping
I hid from everyone
you asked me if I liked girls
and thats when I knew I belonged with the boys
I needed these ******* boys

Thirteen
I showed up in black sweats
a hoodie that avoided my curves like roadkill
a half assed ponytail
and running shoes
I was invisible
I replaced the gauze on my thighs that concealed the proof he was here
I wore and extra shirt to hide the proof he was here
I learned to use makeup in all the wrong places in hopes to prove he was never here
His fists played symphonies across my ribcage
He made songs of my pleads for forgiveness and apologies
addressed to both him and god
and I am still trying to forget the notes
I am still trying to forget he explored my depths
I am still trying to pretend that he was never here
He said I could only belong to the boys if they could touch me

Fourteen
I thought the cough syrup would save me

Fifteen
He took the only shred of dignity I had left
I listened as my only hope for a family was ripped limb from limb
The child who's crescendo heartbeat originated from me
was slaughtered at the price of a Versace ring and a fake I.D.
Fifteen
I thought I could hear him screaming


Twenty
I am defined by twenty different men
These scars are proof of me nitpicking the pieces of them from my skin
Proof that I am worth nothing more than a one night stand

Twenty taught me:
1. No one will ever understand how empty you become when you're constantly filled by different men
2. A new canvas will not make you feel any cleaner
3. Hands feel like hands in the dark no matter who is behind them
4. After about the 3rd one night stand you will realize that 2 is the loneliest number
5. My mother is no longer proud to see me

His mother always told him to throw away broken toys
to make room for new ones
and maybe thats why they never keep me around
I've become an acrobat
balancing my self confidence on the tight rope of his words
It’s hard to walk when your legs are killing you.
My knees didn't always creek like this, I promise.
My smile didn't always come with a disclaimer

People always ask me why I never attend school
I want to tell them "I'm too emotionally vacant to care"
"I know I'm not destined for great things" I'd announce
"I'll be dead before I'm 20,
I have no kids to look forward to
and no desire to marry"
So why should I spend 13 years of my life cooped up
Learning the value of x
when I cant even find value in waking up in the morning.

I fall in love when I am lonely
4. I won't be able to look in the mirror and be happy
5. I can not fall in love after ***.
6. My need for affection is insatiable.
7. I somehow convinced myself I will be the Anastasia to one of these Mr.Greys
8. I feel that two is the loneliest number
9. As long as you touch me I will love you
10. I wont be able to look in the mirror and be happy
11. I know I said that twice
1. I do not know how to love people properly.
2. This includes myself.

I am Ink
sweet blood of the
pen.
I **** the flesh of parchment with savvy strokes of timeless musings.
The poet is nothing without my inspiration to spur him forward forcing thought from mind into
visual conceptions of reality.
The written word is law and
I am law
We are one.
The ink ,not the pen, is mightier than the sword.
What is the pen without me?
The ink.
A wasted corpse
space used on a desk
worthless
to be without ink.
I alone am the soul of literature.
I alone raise words from the dead  minds of deceased philosophers.
My word has capsized continents
waged unwinnable wars
I do not discriminate
I have killed men women children.
I have breathed life into centuries.
I am eternity
I am ink.

I want to be painted onto the canvas of your future
and carved into the floorboards of your past
my love for you is deeper than the Atlantic
and I am the tide
constantly returning to your shore line
no matter how many times I'm turned away.
I once asked my mother
what the most tragic love story was
and she said it was the story of the moon and the sun
Cursed to live apart for eternity
only meeting briefly
at dusk
but with that
comes the beauty of the sunset
and these bruises
they are proof that the color spectrum
Does not hold enough reds and blues
to paint my endless sea of love
On to the canvas of your future

“Palm trees do exist”
And like that I’m speechless
Because palm trees are the definition of serenity
And she can’t find that serendipity
because in Idaho we have pine trees
And fathers who are like attics
Attics have ladders to climb so you can reach their expectations
And sometimes his are too high
If I had an attic I would cut every rung to its ladder and build my own
Because I know where I’m going
It might not be as high as you’d like
But let me assure you I’m headed toward palm trees

I love you to pieces
And that's where I've found myself
In pieces
Let's make peace of this
I wish you had become the serendipity I was hoping for but that's the thing
You can't look for serendipity
It's in the definition
But you defined me
You'll find me under the willow tree where we met
Wallowing in the self hatred and alcohol

But I know you won't come looking for me
You'll be reminding me that you always closed your eyes because you couldn't stand staring back at me
I wasn't the pretty you were hoping for
Just a place to park your manhood for a few nights

During the warfare of words
No matter what slander you bombard me with
All I'll ever have to say  about you
Is that "I loved him"

we can sit up all night in some hotel room,
curled beneath each other, listening to the sound
of heartbeats and old cassette tapes.
you are the kind of girl i want to make mixtapes for.
when i see your smile, i collapse.
you give me the faintest idea of what a heart attack might feel like
and, god ******, i enjoy it.
i remember you telling me that you haven’t felt purposeful
or useful or strong enough to be either
and i looked in your eyes and saw
the only person who’d ever been strong enough
to admit that their only purpose was to be purposeless.
and if life is only lived to find promise,
then what the **** is death for?

i’ve seen god on lonely street corners
where homeless men stare at buses
wishing they had enough change in their cups
to change things.
i’ve seen happiness in the eyes of single motherscarrying three jobs and a failed marriage
in the shopping bags they drag up the stairs.
i’ve seen one bedroom apartments with more space to call home
than you could ever find in that mansion on the hillside.

and i’ve seen you look so helpless
that the only help i could offer
was to let you climb out of it yourself.
i have trouble letting you be.
i have trouble finding myself.
i have trouble being anywhere but in your arms.
there are disciples in your chest
preaching off-balanced wisdom and there are
people written across your skin
all of them whispering,
"you made me feel welcomed.
you made me feel something.”
and if you only understood how lonely the bus rides get
or how hard it is to walk home in the dark
carrying nothing but your heartbreak,
then you would know what it meant
when i told you that you are the only thing
to ever make any of it worth it.
i will write your name in my poetry until it no longer has a meaning.
i will kiss you until my lips no longer make your knees weak.

i was homeless until i met you.
you handed me enough change to change things.
i hope you don’t find better things to do with your day
than to pass by my corner
and smile.

your are purposeful and you are useful
and you never had to be either.

I own one spoon
one knife
one fork
one bowl
and one plate
but I own two mugs
in hopes we'll fall in love over a cup of coffee.

I am the awkward treble cleft resting against your crescendo heartbeat
All the while  thinking "I don't think Mozart could have ever written anything as beautiful as your breath"
And I bet when God made you, part of the angles choir found itself nestled in your vocal chords
Comfort
Like a down blanket you wrap me in the silk strands of your forearms
And all I want to know is how you got these scars
My guess is you fell to hard for a girl who was never your favorite song
And you had to nitpick the sour notes of her broken promises from your skin

You're a constant reminder that poetry can't fix everything.

Dont you DARE have the audacity to say you were good to me
when I can recall nothing but a nightmare.

You make me queasy
a constant sea sickness
but I'm not ill
People tend to call this "butterflies"
Im just digusted
there are insects hiding in the most secret parts of me

I traded you for popularity
And all I've got is a pocket full of mumbles
Whisper me into your heart beat
I've got no where else to be
These shoes won't shine much longer
Please click your heels
Bring me home Dorothy

I am Japan in these tidal waves of missing you
These scars
Constant reminders that drunken nights have drown me in the memory of your 5 o clock shadow
You have enough heart for the tin man,too
Click your heels
Bring us home Dorothy

Straighten your straw spine
Fill a mason jar with secrets
Click your ******* heels
Come home Dorothy
Following this yellow brick road without a map isn't easy

There's no place like home

Noah wrote Allie one letter everyday for a year.
And you cant take the time to text me and tell me whether or not I need to keep trying
Why the **** is it so hard to let me down easily.

I dont think you understand
how empty you become
when you're constantly filled by different men.