i think that doughnut is speaking to me
excuse me
i must go hear
what it has to say

i saved all the tea my grandmother sent me
in her vacant-expression birthday
easter
christmas
thinking of you
cards.
thinking of you -
that is all
happy easter -
that is all
happy birthday -
that is all
not even an automated smile
a pre-written well-wish
the most primal of cards
full of tea.
i open the tea
smell it
hold it
look at it
decipher it
grandmother,
you send me a blank card
with your and grandfather's name
and a little baggy of tea
could you not at least say
i am sorry
is this tea an apology?
you always spoke through tea
but this tea i cannot decrypt
i saw you just the other day
i didn't say a word to you
hardly looked at you
i watched you sneak a picture of me with your old camera
laughing with my friends
is this tea
i miss you tea?

grandma,
it's ok.
this wasn't your fault,
it was your daughter's
i do miss you
i will save the tea you sent me.

i try very hard not to fall in love with certain boys
boys that think i am a ball of yarn they can string along
care free
i get snarled
too easily
might be
the ginger in me

i especially avoid all boys with guitars
my heart is a six string
and they've got the pick
i don't like that

never fall for trumpet players, either
the myth about them being good kissers is false

i like rough and ready boys
with dirt under their fingernails
and autumn breezes in their hair
they catch up those green fields
in their eyes
look at me with them
and i
can't resist
that one
for some ******* reason

everyone says
"get a boyfriend, red"
but there aren't any boys in this small town
that are like that
and dad says
don't fall in love with southern boys
...sorry dad, these northern boys won't do

You were always the last bus home
As though
If I didn’t catch you I’d be stuck waiting for a lift I’m not sure would come
I missed you often.
Always went to the wrong station
I read your numbers wrong
You were vivid, neon flashing
But I wasn’t wearing my glasses
I couldn’t see you properly
I thought I deserved the long walks home
As if chalky hills and borrowed books torn up into pieces were the only things I could hold onto
I always managed to lose my return ticket
Some days I did it in the hope that you would let me on for free
Let me in
Do not close the doors automatically
As if I am not worth the wait
I am worth the wait
Don’t drive away from me again
I am not begging
I am not praying
I am asking you to come back for me
Reverse to a time when we discussed frame sizes and half flamed dreams under fairy lights
Come back to a time when you thought I was something special
I met you in gold and black shadows
Like we were sweeping statements of colour
Thrown together
Into a palette
Paint with me
Do not separate me like ink and oil
Do not separate yourself anymore
We are not cheap materials
We are quality
Treat us like it
Treat us softly
Take my hand and follow me across the canvas because honestly, it’s all I am good at doing
Making a rough pattern of a future I was never sure I’d have
I can find the destination but I need the petrol of your spirit
I need your headlights, your windows into things I don’t understand, your compass into things I am not brave enough to dive into
Guide me
And once you have finished
Please. Take me home.

The sun touches my skin
Days like this are fleeting
And make me feel happy just because
Days like this feel like dreams
That make everything seem a little bit better than before
I search as I wander
Singing hopes along my metaphysical journey
The dirt looks bronze and my clothes feel heavy
The dreaming begins again
And my eyes seem to glow with the sun
Forcing me to write
Making my gift shine like the light
Covered in emotion
My vision slightly blurred
Sweat lingers on my back like the taste of wine does on my tongue
The page is filling up
As deeper casts of sunlight lock down onto my frantically moving hand
I quietly forgive myself for all of those things
Over and over and over again
Just so I can hear it one more time
My shoes come off

I listen to the distant sounds
Thinking about the battle my own mind created
A magic flame burns on my arms
And in the garden a stranger bids an early hello as pleasure swirls like the scent of flowers around my nose
I think about how much I have grown since the screams that used to drown me and the tears that used to suffocate me
I suppose the worst is over
Because the pride has started and what I fully deserve is not that far ahead

I opened my eyes and taught myself to not romanticize the idea of loss
And the clock sent a cloud of thoughts that barely covered the entrance to the abyss I call my mind
The path of pain and destruction is ending and theres a fork in the road
No more wandering down the wrong trails anymore
I always thought, someday things will be better and I will be better and the ***** bliss that comes with my love of loneliness will subside
It will no longer be shared with its dear friend named sadness
But maybe the longing will forever be felt upon my shoulders
But maybe that is enough

Everyone wins at some point or another
I guess you just have to enjoy it while it lasts
And when it subsides
You'll board the train and watch the ghosts through the foggy windows as you sit there alone
Looking upon a seemingly fake reflection
You'll slip through the doors just in time and find that you're holding the key in your hand
Christmas time will come and you won't be held back by the bottle
And things will be complete and you'll probably find yourself constantly missing the gray lady who used to whisper horrible things in your head as she sat upon each of your shoulders and smiled a crooked smile that spread to each side of her face
You'll imagine her blowing life's pain in rings like cigarette smoke around your neck
Drowning your thoughts
Making your ears bleed
And the ink remains

But each week is a step forward
It's okay not to be grounded
But you have to be sure you're not floating too far away
Waste is not desired
Especially when you find your youth diminishing faster and faster with each measly year

Let it all sink in
But never forget the frozen winds that used to beckon to you and call you darling
And remember what happens when you lose yourself
Promising to never let yourself get that deep into the forest
Without admitting how lost you are
Ever again

when he said, "this is
my note, after all, thats
what people do, right?
leave a note?" my heart
completely caved
      >     in.    <

when my teacher said
that a lot of people
commit suicide due to
bullying or because they
feel unaccepted,
i raised my hand to
speak up about the
facts.


the true facts.

how more than half of the
homeless teenage population
are gay. they were kicked out
by their mums and dads.

how its not just the
bullying, how its
them too.

they feel so alone and
we always wonder why
there is a new name in
the paper saying,
"Suicide--Age --"
and yet because of
someone being p    u s h  e       d
to                                                      far

it made them take
their own life.

i wish i could stop
suicides,
i wish for once
i could be the one who
closed the door on
death.

but im no rolemodel,
i always let death
back in.

but that doesnt mean i
wont help you take
him out.

i dont exactly have
anything to complain
about today.

the sun is shining
the music is nice,
my cat is fluffy,
hell,

today is ******* fantastic

im studying in my room,
im watching my nephew,
im drinking some tea,
and scrolling through
tumblr.

im messaging my friend(s)
im eating some pancakes
painted my nails earlier,
today is awesome.

ive started to think a
lot about myself lately
because all i do is
think about others and
its not fair to me at all.

when i go to homecoming
this week i will
smile and kiss my date and
be happy because hey,
im alive.

i wont show the pain
im feeling when i see
the man i love and
ill dance all night cause
i look ******* hot and
nobody can tell me i dont.

i wont let him get into my
thoughts and i wont let that
fabulous tuxedo he'll be wearing
distract me from the good things
in life.

like his smile or his
eyes or his 5 o'clock shadow or
his hands or his
height or the way
he bites his lip and
looks down or
how he says my
name.

no. i wont allow him
to get to me,
i have a dance to
attend.

What is Love?
is it the way you
get nervous and
pace with your
hands (not) on
your hips?
the way you
purse your
lips together
when you
get angry?
the way you
can't help but
smile when
someone makes
a ***** joke?
is it the way your
eyes light up when
you talk about her?
Is it the way you
cared for me so
unconditionally?
the way you make
butterflies flit and
flit in my stomach
even when i was
asleep?
even when tears
consumed my
eyes to the point
where i couldn't
even see you in
front of me
anymore?
the deepness of your
voice consumes my
thoughts and i
cant swim out.

Love is the way you
say my name.
Love is that knowing
glance you give me.
Love is when you
wrapped your arms
around me tightly
because you knew i
was fighting my
demons.
Love is when i stifled back
tears when as I told you
I was happy for
you.

my heart is on fire
from the poison you
left over and im
burning a whole
hell of a lot,
dear.