Still so desperate for your touch,
it screams under my skin.
I don't know how you sit in silence
with all these sirens.

I need you to rub my spikes down
They're peaking through.

Untangling the knots in my stomach.
I don't know what caused this to plummet.
I don't know why I shouldn't have done it.
But I shouldn't.

Your presence there made me uneasy.
I'm worried the the reason is ******.
But I can't let myself off that easy
for your sake.

If I could beat on your chest
to resuscitate your heart
I would

But I can't
there's no going back
and I don't know
how to fix this

or how to leave...

I'm sorry you only got
           1 year of freedom.
I'm sorry I was a coward
            and wouldn't stand up to him
            on your behalf
                  (and mine.)
I'm sorry we couldn't be closer
           when you had so few
           people in your corner.
I'm sorry I joked about taking
            your ****** autonomy away from you.






I'm worried for your son.
He cannot go to his father.

You expected romance from a skater boy.
That really is on you.
What did you think
he was going to do?
Buy you roses?
Make you dinner?
Give you something sweet,
heartfelt?

You expected romance from a barfly.
What a silly thing to do!
It's your fault you wanted more
when he wants nothing
more from you.
He doesn't want
your stupid flowers,
fancy dinners,
heartfelt things.
He just wants
to go play pool
where all the drunken people sing.

You expected romance from a punker.
You learned this lesson once.
They attempt to write you poetry
not knowing how to rhyme with 'love.'
They won't send you sweet songs
Cause they'd rather faces melt.

Really
the fall
you experience now
is from wanting something else.

Where are the strings I can cut?
Where are the embers I can smother?

How can I put this in a jar
and put it on the shelf
like you can?

I know I pulled the trigger
and I must eat the bullet
but how are you able to drag
your own dead body through it?

I had the worst dream about you last night.
I hope you're doing alright.
I wish I could ask
but that would cross
the uncrossable line.

Just know
I think about you all the time.

At what point is this
regular behavior
instead of just a funk?
Where is the line between
giving support
and being taken advantage of?

It's a sneaky addiction.
I think I'm fine, then
A few words spoken
and I'm down on my knees again.

I think I've evolved
but as it turns out
I'm the same little girl
desperate for love,
only willing to draw lines in the sand.
A wave of your words
can erase them.

Mold me into
whatever fits best with you.
I'll stay in position
'til the pain is unbearable.

Maybe longer.

I wish I had a friend
who would come and sit
who could listen to my stories
instead of talking a mile a minute
too consumed in her own drama
born from someone else's pain
to even hear me scream.

I'm walking towards
a thin red line.
The only thing
slowing me down
is there's
nowhere
to
hide.
All of the pain's on the surface.
Nothing to drown it out now.
I try to pull strands
to hold it together
they unravel from use
in my hands

broken legs
cannot stand

empty hearts
cannot pretend.

ever since the end
of the longest thing I've ever known
I can't help but find myself
looking around for clues,
little pieces of thread
that hint at an unwraveling.
If I learn not to pick at them
can I keep it all in tact?
Can I keep you close to me?

When you seperate our books
into 'yours' and 'mine' shelves
I'm wondering
if it's so they're easier to pack.
When I'm not home
are you going through our pen drawer
to make your own portable ink?
Creating divisions in your mind,
color-coded cabinets
you can quickly grab and leave?

I have to wonder
if you'll like the sober
version of me.
I wonder if I will.

But
the answer to the first question
is more important.
Because I'm stuck with me
and you aren't.

Always showing you my hand
and all my papercuts.
Asking you to cauterize
the ones that bleed too much.

But approach with caution
dogs on sidewalks
can be taught in
the art of biting people
who pet us not too often.

My words will keep on swinging
while my spine is strong.
And after that performance
it won't be too long
before you're gone.

'Til I won't find your legs in bed
no matter how far I'm reaching
And I won't learn a single thing
regardless who is teaching
Scrubbing all my skin away,
not clean unless it's bleeding.

Where would be the ceiling?
Cause I've cert'nly found the floor.
My chips are always all in
'til it's more than I'll afford.
Only willing to be vulnerable
once you've slammed the door.

What's more?

Is I haven't bled out yet.

A lifetime of fragile bones
taught me to put away
all sharp objects.

It's hard to be clever
when sometimes I wonder
if we should still be together.

It's hard to make a ****** pun
when I know
later in bed, there will be none.

It's hard to find rhymes
in the midst of my apathetic mind
when I know I have to beg,
when I'm feeling left behind.

All I can find at this time
are words with pieces
of my rotting heart,
words that only serve
at pushing us apart.

How about an empty card?

I spent this morning
giving myself a beating
about my face
            my hair
            my body
pinching pieces of fat
to find the one
that makes you not want me
then
I could take forbidden blades
and cut myself down
to the size
You wanted to feel inside
Your hands
to become the molded object
You would like to hold
again.

Most nights I still dream about you
About a face that I know
better than my own
Or used to.
I remember how you said you rarely dream
And I hope that's still true,
That you are granted the small mercy
of not seeing me
when you sleep.
Of not waking haunted
by your dreams.

I'm not your manic pixie dream girl
I'm not the one the rules don't apply to
I'm not the one you can listen to chew
Without needing to leave the room

I'm not your blonde *** goddess
I'm not the one you can't get enough of
I'm not the one you want to put your tongue on
Everytime I get out of the shower

I'm not the one you fell in love with
I'm not the easygoing rebel
I'm not the one with it all together
That you can turn to

I want to be her
More than I want to be myself
I want your undivided attention
More than I want anything else

But I have to decide
If the reality is worth living in
If I can give up all my fantasies
And expectations
Again.

Isn't this a different version
of the game you used to play?
'If I only did this
he'd want to sleep with me again?'

If I only,
If I only,
If I only,
He would.

But you should know better than most
That he won't.

The eggshells started in the sink
But wound up on the floor.
I walked into the room
And they flew at me once more.
Shrinking my provisions
To the ones within this door.
Even taking out the trash
Is not a safe thing anymore.

If I had known, would I have showed?
Or would I have opted to stay home
Where the dishes can be loaded
Anyway I please
And not at me.

substances won't solve your problems
all them start from where you got them
all them end from where you shy from
you're alone cause
you call no one

no spine
means no adequate help
you always fall
back on yourself
**** your health
you're the only one to die for

scrawl the words that say

NO MORE
NO MORE
NO MORE

you said
it makes a difference
that i give a ****
that i'm trying
to do something about it
that i'm aware

but it doesn't really matter does it?
the result is still the same
my sadness has slowed the pace

almost to a stop.

and all i really want
is to be that girl you wanted

but i turned out to be
just as haunted
just as flawed
just as much of a burden

as anyone else you had to hide blades from.

The last little glimmer of hope dies
The one I've been trying all day
not to keep alive.
And after it
comes a giant wave of disappointment.

This is why
I try to ****** my feelings.
Bury them alive,
Bury them deep.
I don't know how to deal
with the grief
when they die violently
in front of me.
Other than writing eulogies
that no one reads.
Creating gravestones
that no one visits
but me.

He's transfixed by the well-spoken lyrics
of a metaphorical girl
but too tired,
too disconnected
for the feelings
of the girl in the real world right next to him.
Maybe she could text it to him
get his attention for more
than 30 seconds,
Be more like one of those videos
he swipes through
So much
that his finger
twitches to a beat.
But he's beat,
tired,
doesn't have time.

She's no long a mystery he can solve.
He put all the puzzle pieces together
but the image doesn't change.
He's not interested in things
that remain the same
Only new ideas every few seconds,
only stories he can get through in one night.
Anything else
requires too much focus,
too much commitment.

So she swallows and accepts
the few moments in time.
Tries to sum it all up in a thesis statement
Instead of rambling it up in rhyme.
But it feels so ******* insufficient
Every
single
time.

When you touch my body
it's just a casual pass.
Lust is not the first thing on your mind,
it seems it's next to last.
A mindless passing squeeze,
a casual stick and poke.
Treating my desire
as if it were a joke.

I've never felt so much
like a bag of flesh and bones.
No beauty and
no mysticism,
No tempting burlesque show.
Only breast and hip,
only foot and toe.

I guess I'm the last one left
to caress and pry.
I wish I could kiss my collarbone
and fleshy inner thighs
just right.

But most of all I wish
your passion ate you
when I was nearby.

Started so explosive,
two planets colliding.
Now just bits and fragments
that orbit each other.
Music you once sent me:
now radio silence.
Bodies once explored:
now pecks of kisses.

How many more ways
can you say you're not interested?
How many more days
until I start listening?

and not go so far away
but I know that you must go
and I know that I must stay.
The noose I threaded for myself
was never built for two
and even if you wallowed with me,
what good would that do?

I hate that we're already in
the 'remember when' phase
the 'is he just tired
or does he not want me' days
Nights when I wait
to hear your soft sleeping breath
so I can let loose the tears
hours after their threat.
'Remember when' my face
was so chafed from your beard
and those hours of kissing?
Now it's a peck on the lips
You collapse on the couch
completely zone into a screen.

You say that you're grumpy
and you don't know why
I want to suggest that
it's cause you haven't had ***
but
I'm so scared of another
loving, quiet
rejection
the unreturned touches
leave me
as unsatisfied as unfinished phrases,
unturned pages
of the book
we no longer read together.

without him i feel so lonely
but maybe that makes me
my own victim
of the patriarchy
that i can't stand
and hold my own
without a man's validation

or maybe
that's just
a symptom of
my lack of self-esteem

maybe those are results
of my own
shortcomings

My initial thought
is
'how do i get him to come save me?'
even when i know
he's the one i'm mad at

i'm not strong enough
never have been
to stand on my own
to have my own back
i always need someone else's
reassurance
and i think they always
bet on that

when do i learn
to become my own person
and stand up even when
everyone else is
laying flat?

I'm learning what
       to learn to say
I'm tripping up
       along the way
I try my best to be okay
  for you

I'm learning not to compromise
       between my wants
       and all my lies
That all those things
       that I have done
       I truly wanted to.

My stumbling steps
       seem not enough
But weary legs
       can be so rough
When lying down
       waiting to drown
       has been what got me through

But with your rough
        and strengthened hands
I'll take each step
        after I stand
Each fall is easier to land
   with you
   to come back to.

We all like to paint ourselves
       as the victim
But you had a ******* museum.
I'm not saying you didn't
       have the currency
To hang all those paintings
But you loved to live there
       and stare at them.

You never showed me all your pictures,
Never purged yourself of paint.
You said I made you happy
But clung to pigments
                       and brushstrokes
Like they were the only thing
your arms could be full of.
Your primary lover:
the sadness you painted.

Well I guess I handed you
                                              every supply
To paint your biggest piece of all.
I'm sure the placard underneath reads:
The Marriage and the Downfall.
Today you must be staring at it
Just like me.

But tomorrow
I hope
you find your way outside
and breathe
                                                 fresh air.

My heart is filled with
   black clouds
                and thunderstorms
that won't blow through.
Is it not raining
        inside of you?

Am I the only one without sun?

I love to drink
Because it gets me
away
from my baseline.
The fact that I hate life,
existence.
Day
by day
by mediocre
day.
Is it better
closer
or farther away?
From the people with smiling faces,
conversations,
fully masked and exhausting.
What's the difference?
There is no revelation
being sober.
Just the same minute ticking
over and over.
I am so unimportant
and I don't know how
to stop the constant drowning.

Always writing about choking
and wishing to fly free;
where does it get me?
Chained to the same
sinking tree.
Trying to find
beauty
or ease
in the days that never cease,
the veins refuse to bleed
for me.
Who cares?
Nobody is a savior.
No flavor there to savor.

I want to be numb.

It hurts so much
I cannot bear
there's nowhere to run
And no way to share
I cannot tell you what's wrong
For I will be a broken record player
repeating the same sad song
until it's stuck in your head.
I want to protect you from this
So that we're not both dragged down
Maybe it would be better for you
To not wait for the anchor
to drag your boat underwater

I should be the only one who drowns.

Go on your adventures
Climb mountains
Swim rivers
Stroll along paths
we used to walk together
Howl at the moon
soak in its shine.

Traverse back down the mountain
To the tepid swamp
we call home.

Come back to my shackled sadness
I'll drown you in it.

And now I've forced myself back
into a cage of my own making.
There is no escaping
no light
only tunnel.
I'm back to no adventure
                    no excitement
Can't even have my coping habits
Back inside my little box
with limited options.
**** this.
I hate myself.
I tasted freedom for such a brief second
And I ruined it.

when my birthfather messages.
the dread that he'll ask me to see him

when I tell him of my divorce
and he asks no questions
and offers
no condolences.
when I try to tell details
and he talks over me
             tells me
best to not speak ill of the past,
there's no reason.
when I must pay a stranger
to listen like he should
               like he didn't
all these years,
when the words were not something
he wanted to hear
or maybe
he's scared of my tears.
the ones he told me
solve nothing
while offering
           no solutions
           no protections
           no affection
unless he found it fit
between the cracks of his moods
within the space of his closet.

because he likes to keep peace
I must not trod upon it.

I've been keeping it at bay for so long
letting it loose
feels rusty,
unnatural.

I used to consume boys
like a wildfire.
Teeth and hands and hips.
No second thoughts,
no reservedness.
But I've had to be so gentle,
so plain,
so long

I've forgotten how it feels

like bliss,
like nervousness,
like does my body fit like this
with you

unrestrained action
and passion
and fun

I want to go on.

Pretty little bird,
Who created her own cage,
Who once hated her own wings
For being flighty.
Now stares outward
From behind her wooden bars,
That she picked so meticulously
For their comfort
            and safety.

And only now
           notices their restrictions.

There is safety
                but there are no skies.
        She loves to sing
                         but also to fly.

If she breaks some branches
    for a doorway
will the rest crumble
with her inside?

Or is it possible
      to have a nest to return to
    As well as the sky?

Should she try?

If I wrote you a note
would you sign it?
Would you add 'PS Me too'
At the bottom?
Leave them with two coffins?

someday you'll sleep through the morning
return this night owl to darkened trees
until then you are stuck
chasing dreams with broken feet

I don't mean to make you cry
But my own tears are rivers
This water breaking stone down
into canyons
Until there's nothing left,
just emptiness
Just a spectacle for others to stare at
And to tempt the other jumpers
Who feel just as empty inside.

Nowhere to hide
When the closet isn't big enough
The darkness doesn't last long enough
And you spend your whole days tired
Uninspired
Walking on the thinnest wire
That you try not to fall off of.
Why not jump?
One gust of wind will blow you over
Why wait?
Till then the torture's never over
The other side is never closer
The end always only in sight
Why fight?

I'm disintegrating
even hard rock's made into canyon
how long can you keep going
how long can you hold?
the village safe
from the avalanche?
-give it a few more days-
at what point is the break?
or is it like erosion
so slow that you don't notice
so gradual, there is no pain?
but you choose
each day
are you withering away?
Are you pushing yourself so hard
that the cliff is quickly nearing?
How much will it hurt
when you hit
the bottom?
you choose
you choose
you choose
But you can only think about
what you will lose.

How much is too much
and how little's enough?
If I reach for you
will you shy from my touch?
If I choke out the words
will they be enough?

Cause I don't want to push, love.
I don't want to shove.
I just need to know now
if I'm still the one.

Are you still having fun?

If I opened the front door
Would you try to run?
Have my little "quirks"
become just too much?
Do you despise setting timers
for laundry and lunch?

"How deep is your love?"

If I asked you for candles and wine
would you do it?
Would you begrudge me for asking
to see if the shoe fits?
Cause I know getting older
doesn't have to mean *******.
Proximity doesn't have to mean closeness.

I just want to know, love
If you'd still be concerned
Do I bring too much heat?

Does your fire still burn?

And now
after years of torment
with only brief reprise
I can hold your
damaged heart
throughout each night
I can keep it safely beating
right next to mine

I can keep the longest nights
and greet the
sun-filled sky

with you

Red lines running through my
       mind all day
I cannot make them


                go away
   cannot let the thoughts
                  sink in
Like a razor in my skin


Cannot let them win

The urge is more
     overwhelming
                       every day
I cannot make it
               go away.
I wake up with tears
           in my eyes
and go to bed
              just the same.


I know I am fighting
          a battle

that I will eventually
           lose.