countless were the minutes we spent apart,
and long were the nights i swam in my own regret.
you opened my eyes the day you came
back in my life,
and it was the easiest thing in the world
to tell you i love you like nothing had changed,
even though mountains separate us,
rivers and canyons that i can’t leap across.
it hit me like a punch to the stomach,
and i could see what i couldn’t before,
tears in the rain that had finally let up.
i hope you know that you awaken parts of me
that have lain dormant for too long,
an indescribable feeling that travels up my spine
and back down again.
the turn of the tide,
the changing of the seasons,
our own aging,
all of these things are inevitable in life,
and i want you and me to be one of them.
i could swear that yesterday was september,
and now it’s suddenly october,
and i can’t waste another minute drowning
without you there to save me,
so i’ll take my thoughts and false preconceptions
and wash them down the drain,
and this time i won’t let another opportunity pass by.
we all have demons that live inside us,
but you help me to forget mine.

i dream of the day that i become
the girl people do double-takes on,
the day that i’ll have smooth thighs
and a flat stomach
and slim arms.

i’ve learned to take in my father’s
criticisms (“you shouldn’t eat that,”
he tells me) and how to ignore
the hunger in the deepest parts of me,
the sharp pain clawing at my inside.

every word seeps under my skin,
into my blood,
poisons my thoughts until the day
i become just skin and bones,
angles of a girl who used to be.

i’ve always been told to not listen
to what anyone else thinks,
only to my own thoughts,
so what happens when i’m the one
who has turned against me?

the only thing i’m eating anymore
is myself, from the inside out.

i’m not a boomerang,
or a ping pong ball,
some toy that will return to you
by principle.
i don’t need to see
your drunken lips
stumbling over themselves
trying to find pretty words
that you think
will make me give in.
i’m not some prize
to be won.
i don’t want to be
the second option
when you’re feeling lonely
in the middle of the night,
and i can’t stay
based on empty promises.
(every day i am stronger.)

i met someone today
who reminded me of you:
his voice was soft and slow,
and he looked at me
with the look you once had
in your eyes,
and amidst our conversation
i realized that you have been
drained from my life
like water through a sink,
and this should have made
me fall to my knees,
cry out in desperation,
but somehow,
i was okay with it.
(every day i am stronger.)

there’s a principle in science that says
if you don’t use it, you lose it,
if a part of your brain goes untouched,
is in no way beneficial to you,
it ceases to exist.

so tell me why i haven’t been able
to shake you out of my mind
when i haven’t seen you in two months,
when you were never really mine
in the first place.
why do you insist on resurfacing
when i’m sure i’ve become
just an afterthought to you.

the home i built for you
should have burned to the ground,
should have remained vacant
after you left,
but instead it continues to overflow
and seems to breathe underneath
its own sagging weight.

my days have been numbered by
the piece of papers holding meaningless words
that i crumple up and toss in the trash,
by the books i’ve gotten my hands on,
by the many coffee cups i’ve held to my lips,
and i can finally dive into prufrock’s words,
feel them encapsulate me,
roll around in my brain and
make themselves at home.
i crave the timelessness that even dickinson
couldn’t have possibly tasted,
the ability to have people to feel something
and connect with my words,
the chance to not feel alone in this world.
my words enter the blank page
without any rhyme or reason
but they help me embody my feelings,
and i pour my heart into my work
with the hope that someone, somewhere is thinking,
i understand what she’s saying.
that’s truly what it’s all about.

i thought that if i did everything i could,
you would no longer occupy a corner
in the garden of my heart,
but now i see that it’s not my decision.

love is a two-way highway,
and you keep emerging like forget-me-nots
in the spring.

i tried digging my fingers into the soil
and ripping you out by your roots,
but all i accomplished was
dirtying my hands
and making even more of a mess
of myself.

this love is programmed to be perennial,
but trust me when i say
that i don’t need you or any other flower
to make my life more beautiful.

cornerstone (noun):
an important quality or feature
on which a particular thing depends
or is based.

you gave me the resolve
that i needed
and the strength
to believe i was worth it.
now my foundation
is crumbling in the spot
you once occupied.
slowly
my rock has turned
to dust
and i’m falling down
to the ground,
back to the place where
you found me
before you built me up,
made me taller than
the other buildings
surrounding me.

i don’t think anyone else
has the right tools
to make me solid again.

there are secrets wrapped up in the blankets
that are thrown haphazardly onto my bed,
all the lies that i’ve told,
all the wrongs i haven’t righted,
those people who i tried out
and then discarded just as easily
as if they were an empty wrapper
i had no use for anymore.

if i keep them bundled up,
the secrets will stay at the foot of my bed,
forever locked up.

but at night they fall over my body,
covering, enveloping me in a warmth
that soon becomes suffocation,
an endless drowning that i can’t escape.

i’m a broken vase,
consisting of several pieces of jagged glass,
clumsily glued back together,
the fragments not fitting as well as they used to.
you can see the cracks,
the empty gaps,
and it seems as though
i could easily be tipped over
and shattered altogether again.
most people wouldn’t try to piece me up
and make me complete,
but you dare to defy odds,
and even insist on placing inside me
flowers that tangle in my hair
and fill in these gaps,
and then setting me out in the warm sun.
darling, i've never felt more whole
in my life.

i know that lying with him
isn’t what you expected,
that when you kiss,
the only thing you feel is his lips
against yours,
that you feel like
all the fairytales,
all the movies lied
about what true love entails,
that you’re going to keep seeing him,
a small what if tucked there
in the back of your mind,
but you can trust that
your secret is safe with me.

(because i’ve been there too.)

i prepared for the worst,
protected myself from the future storm
that no one else could see but me.
it never came,
and i sat in my shelter,
alone with my thoughts.
i wish i was a prizefighter of words,
wish i was able to express to you
how i truly feel,
but instead i spend my days
shadow boxing myself,
without you.
there’s a battle raging inside my mind,
a constant push and pull
between what’s real
and what i feel,
and i lost you,
but i don’t have anyone to blame
but myself.

you leave me hopeless and empty,
withered, weak, wilted.
you leave my fingernails chewed-up,
destroyed like the rest of me.
you leave me clawing at the surface
of what i could be
but unable to break through.
you leave me swearing to resist you
but wanting even more.
you leave me loving you
and hating myself,
an unfair trade-off,
an addiction that i can’t seem to break.
i look at what’s left of myself
and see that you’ve left nothing.

more than four thousand teenagers
succumb to suicide each year,
so if you’re reading this,
that means you’ve made it through
all of the things that
were supposed to bring you down
but didn’t,
all of the people who
told you that you’d be nothing
and were wrong,
all of the times when
were kicked down
and almost stopped believing in yourself
but brushed yourself off,
stronger than ever before,
and sure,
sometimes tomorrow will be harder
than today is,
but you’ve come too far
to just give up now.

i don’t think
my fingers belong anywhere else
than in between yours:
when we interlace hands,
click,
they fit right into place
like a key into a lock.

i don’t think
my lips belong anywhere else
than pressed against yours:
when we kiss,
click,
it’s like they were built for each other,
and sparks  go flying.

i don’t think
you belong anywhere else
than by my side:
if you take on the world with me,
click,
everything will be
as it should.

my thoughts of you
are clouded with things
i wish i would have said
and done
when i had the chance.

like that time
you looked me in the eye
and said
you know you could really ruin my life,
i almost did just that;
i almost took that leap
and kissed you,
and i hope you’d have said
that sure, your life is ruined,
but at least i’m in it.

every single moment
we spent talking for hours,
lying next to each other,
i wasted each one,
because i never said
what was on my mind
and i never did
what i wanted to do.

and now it’s too late.

some might see the ocean and how
he refuses to stop returning to the shore
no matter how many times
he’s pushed away.

i can only see the shore inviting the ocean
back in a countless number of times
despite how much she pushes him away,
despite his water washing away
bits and pieces of who she is,
giving her back things that don’t belong.

i understand that the ocean and shore
were created side by side for a reason,
but what i can’t seem to grasp
is why god created waves:
why did he make the shore immobile,
but allowed the sea to move freely,
and do as he pleases?

i’ll always hate myself for letting you
come rushing back in,
for how much you overwhelm me,
your waves crashing down on me,
when i know every day
you change as the tide does.

be wary of the boy whose smile
doesn’t reach his eyes;
of the boy who touches your body
before he touches any other part of you;
of the boy who’d rather stay in
than take you out
and show you off.
don’t fall for the boy who swears
up and down that he’s changed,
that he’s going to put your first,
that those other girls don’t mean a thing.
stay away from the boy who doesn’t
write you love letters
and slip them into your bag,
the boy who doesn’t lay
beneath the starlit sky with you,
the boy who doesn’t compliment
you when you’re at your worst,
the boy who doesn’t keep you on your toes
because these are the kinds
of things you deserve, plus more,
and you’re way too young to feel
heartbreak.

it’s nights like these i feel the loneliest,
when my house is cold
and silent
and i start thinking about the nights
we spent together,
your breath and arms warming me up,
your voice soft against my hair;
darling, when i was with you,
you made both the cold
and the silence feel unwelcome.

other girls always get the guys who
take the stars out of the sky for them;
guys who wrap their arms
and their love around their shoulders,
keeping them warm at night;
guys who kiss all their bruises better;
guys who’d go anywhere, do anything they ask.

i get the guys whose
rough mouths taste like cigarettes;
guys who only say they love me after ***;
guys who don’t touch any other part of me
besides my body;
guys who keep in their shirt pockets a list of girls
and i’m always next to be crossed off.

and every day, i ask myself
why i’m not worthy enough.

i watched the sun glisten
off the top of the water
as it made small ripples
the size of locks of my hair,
and i thought of you.

you too, like the sun,
are only an illusion;
the sun is a million miles away
but still seems to affect
the water in such a beautifully
tragic manner,
just as you are never here
but can still keep me
yearning for your warmth.

tell me why you left me alone
when i needed you the most.

why do i insist
on giving myself away to people
who push back
with everything they have,
who take what they want from me
and then toss me aside,
depriving me
of my lovely parts,
leaving me with
only my bitter ones?
(and i wonder why
i’m so sad all the time.)

when i was seven and i fell off my bike
and scraped up my knees,
daddy told me that pain is just
my brain telling my body what to feel.

so maybe if i put my mind to it
and try hard enough,
this sadness will leave my body,
this hurt i feel eating at my heart
will slowly ebb away,
the tears rolling down my cheek
will be dry.

and maybe you will
become just a memory.

i was sixteen when i stopped
believing in fairy tales
and all the magic, the mystique,
faded from my innocent eyes.
i was not a princess
and prince charming wasn’t standing
at the bottom of my tower,
calling my name,
beckoning for me to let down my hair.
there was no knight in shining armor
to save me from the grips of evil
or sadness
or heartbreak
or tears—
all of these things were inevitable,
unavoidable,
and nobody came to kiss me
out of my deep sleep or
sweep me off my glass-slippered feet.
happy endings only existed
between the pages of story books,
dreams that never came true.
real life was tangible,
it grabbed me by the hands
and refused to let go.
(so tell me why i’m still hopelessly
searching for my ever after.)

maybe if i was
planted in the ground,
given light
and enough water,
i could grow
and be beautiful too,
but i am a person,
not a flower.

the thing about you is that
you take, take, take,
and never give a single thing
in return.   i thought maybe
i could change you and
make you into the kind of guy
who loves girls unconditionally,
but it's always the same
thing: me picking up my clothes
and my pride off the floor
after you've gotten what
you wanted from me,
and trying to fill myself
with the slightest hope that
you might change your ways
next time.   and believe me,
no matter what i tell myself,
there will be a next time.
(i couldn't exactly tell you why
i keep coming back for more.)

just friends, he whispered
as he pulled me closer
pressing his lips to my forehead.
just friends, i repeated in my head
because i knew that
he loved her
and she loved him
and i didn't fit into the equation
no matter how much
it made my chest collapse on itself.
(i was fighting a war
i'd already lost.)

funny how
one person can go from
a stranger on the street
to the one
that hangs the stars
in your sky
and then back again.

(red rover red rover send billy right over)
it was that simple.
one tap on the shoulder
(tag you're it)
and he knew that he was mine,
two kids chasing each other
around the playground,
the most pure form of love.

i don't play those games anymore;
now i'm drinking until i can't see straight,
and he still doesn't know i love him;
now i'm smoking until my lungs burn,
and he still doesn't know i love him;
now i'm doing what he wants,
going where he wants,
pleasing him in any way he chooses,
and he still doesn't know that
i would do anything for him,
that i love him.

but the thing is,
he doesn't love me.

baby girl,
when are you going to realize
that love isn't hiding
between the seats of his beat-down car;
it isn't sitting on the tips of his fingers
as they trail down your skin,
begging for more;
and you give in,
because maybe if you allow him
this one small favor,
he'll give you the love you want;
but that's not how it goes:
he tells you he likes you
but he needs to take things slow,
and you can physically feel
your heart shattering inside your chest
and the sound of
the sweet lie rolling off his tongue,
and as much as you know
love doesn't work that way,
you keep coming back for more;
baby girl,
i know you want to feel beautiful,
but love isn't created by two mouths connecting
in the darkness
or bare skin meeting bare skin,
and love doesn't present itself
whenever it's convenient for him.

she loved him
more than she loved air
so she forgot how to breathe;
she loved him
more than she loved water
so she drowned in it;
she loved him
even more than she loved herself
so much so
that she let herself go.

i know it's late
and you've probably already
put down your book
turned off your bedside lamp
and fallen into a deep sleep
but for me it's not so easy
when you're my book
and my bedside lamp
and i can't put you down
or turn you off
because my thoughts can't move
one inch without bumping
into some memory of you
and i'd like to know
how you do it
how you so easily drift off
into a night filled with dreams
that aren't about me.

you can't quite seem
to put your finger on it.
and there doesn't seem to be
a name for it:

what do you call it when
he smiles
and you can physically feel
your heart dropping
into your stomach?

what do you call it when
he looks at you
and your breath catches
in your throat?

what do you call it when
he walks into a room
and nothing else
can draw your attention
away from the tall beautiful figure
making its way
through the door?

do you call it love?
or something else entirely?

i think i may love you
but i don't want you
seeing my chewed-up fingernails,
or my hair standing straight up
first thing in the morning,
or the way i cry
over everything,
or how i care way too little
and way too much
at the same time,
because i fear you may figure out
i'm not who i'm trying to be.

you know
when you find someone
who can make your hands
shake
who can make your heart
collapse
who makes you want
to scream
and cry
and laugh
because that someone
is who you've been searching for
all this time?
for me,
that's you.
for you,
that's her.

you could talk for hours,
until your last words
run into your first words,
until the sun
accidentally bumps into the moon,
until your eyelids
slowly drift down,
and i would still want to listen.