A poem about ****** abuse.
I don’t know how to write
this poem yet.
But when I do,
You’ll be the first I tell.

Sincerely,
It was hell.

I want my Grandmother,
to be at my college graduation.
I want my Grandmother,
to write me letters while I'm away.
And if you won't let her,
Take me back to when I was a child.
Sitting in the sun on Grandmas lap.
Catching fire flies while she sat,
around a campfire with my Grandfather.
Telling stories of how they first met.
I want my grandmother.
Dear Cancer,
I want my grandmother.

I had a night terror again.
The one where I’m
trapped in my house and
there are giant bugs crawling
in through the walls.
I can’t escape.
The doors and windows
are locked,
so I set the house on fire.
With me in it.
And we all burn out.

I wake up,
drenched in sweat.
My white sheets,
now stained yellow.
I can’t sleep.
I have to go back to bed
on the floor.
I can’t stop crying,
my room is muggy,
no longer my sanctuary.
This is not a dream anymore.

This is real life.
The nightmare I fall asleep to.
The soundtrack of
my sleep schedule.
Wake me when it’s over.

10/1/2015
2:56 AM

Sorry for my heart.
The way It feels deep.
The way my head spins when
I think about thinking.
The way my scars stick out
For the whole world to see
That I ****** up.
The way I used to listen to those
monsters under my bed.
Telling me I **** because I'm Me.
Then I realized it was all in my head.
Tie a rock to my foot
And throw me in the ocean.
Because That rocks gonna sink ya!
I said," No way, man."
Because this rock, this rock
Is a diamond.
Tied to my foot so our hands are free
To reach up and Tear down the moon
And leave a hole in the sky,
So heaven can shine through.
Sitting on a bench in a park
didn't teach me the art of hearts,
It taught me,
That spiders aren't so scary in the dark.

The promises I made,
I had to break
to save myself from
this destruction wake.
Waking up, in a bed.
That isn't your's or mine,
It's like time stopped
So I could count every line.
Every sentence that came
out of my mind.
They say feelings can't be wrong,
which is why it felt so right.
For a drunken night,
and a beautiful good morning.
And my, was it a beautiful morning.
For a second I smiled.
For a second I was happy.
But it wasn't you,
So I feel,
guilty.

Consent.
What does that even mean?
***?
What is that?
If we’re both drunk does it count?
Because I am the definition
of awkward.
So a drink in me might
do her a favor.
But just for the first time.
So I’m comfortable enough
to draw my line,
Or the line of hickeys
I left on your neck.
Consent.
Because you’re awkward, too.
A lovely Shade of shy.
But all I could do was look you
in the eyes 
and say you’re beautiful.
Then a tear streamed down your face.
And all that came out was
Are you sure this is okay?
Consent.
Because I’m not comfortable,
the way you’re comfortable.
The way taking off my shirt
feels like letting the sea inside me.
So I’ll keep my pants on,
until the lights are off.
And even then,
my scars are screaming.
It’s ringing in my ear,
my biggest fear.
When she stops and whispers,
are you sure this is okay?
The first time I’ve ever heard
those words.
Was the first time I felt free.
For the first time,
I didn’t feel *****.
When you whisper in my ear.
I thought, Baby!
I love it when you talk
consent to me.

I like dating a poet.
Every time you talk
you write a poem in my heart.
Words that I can't speak.
Thats called being speechless.
My biggest fear.
Not knowing what to say
when she tells me
she had a bad day.
Like I'd give you a hug,
but I know you don't like to be touched.
So I'd wipe your tears,
but whats wrong with crying a river?
So I can float on my back
to your out breath's.
So you can breathe me in
on your in breath's.
Can you tell me again,
what step it was?
To just tell you it's okay,
Because even on my worst days,
that's all I can come up with.

I'm just sad.
I'm just me.
And me is sad,
so deal with it.

You waltz around like
everything is okay.
But it's
Not.
Okay.

I don't want to pretend.
I love you.
For every mile that
it's worth.
I love you.

I make one comment.
Ten comments,
You say NO.
No, you don't get to say that.
You don't get to keep saying that,
and saying sorry.
Like
It's.
Okay.

Then NO.
You don't get to keep
breaking my heart
and coming back,
Like
It's.
Okay.

I'm trying to love you better,
and you're trying to be okay.
When we all know,
It's
Not.
Okay.

I'm trying to love you better.
And you.
you're trying to love her better.
The way you spent all those
years together.

Me.
I'm just me.
I'm ugly.
From the inside out.
I'm a beautiful disaster.
I'm a mess.
I'm a
"Can't hold it together"
Kind of girl.

And you laugh,
the way I cry,
So baby,
Let me go.
Let me let go.

Because I can't compare.
To someone who leaves you.
To someone who is not with you.
To someone who wants you,
but refuses to be with you.
I am not that.
I am not her.

And that is not good enough for you.
I will never be good enough for you.
Not because I'm not good enough.
But because,
I'm.
Not.
Her.

She hardly speaks,
but when she does.
Her words are bullets.

And instead
of being filled with tiny
pellets of metal.
They are filled with seeds.
Cause she is growing on me.
Grow me into a vine.
That stretches across
the whole garden.
So when you try to take me out,
I’ve touched every part of your life.
You can’t get rid of me.
I’ll be a pain in your ***.

Attached by my heart strings.
You’ll have a huge box of my things,
buried in your closet.
With all of your skeletons,
and your dresses, your jeans,
and shoes.
And when you blow the dust off of me.
Remember my guitar strings.

The way I used the stems of flowers
as tally marks,
for all the days I hadn’t blown it yet.
So when I do.
Shoot your bullets in my dirt.
So your seeds can grow.
Don’t worry about my garden,
being over grown by weeds.
Cause I quit sewing those seeds,
years ago.

I do not rely on your happy,
to make me happy.
I know I am weak,
at the knees.
Because everybody trips
over their own feet, sometimes.
How many people can say,
they’ve seen something
more beautiful than a sunset.
April Showers
didn’t bring the flowers, darling.
Your heart did.
Your heart did.

I'd be a butterfly,
For Heaven's sake.
The kind that Noah forgot to take.
But still survived The Flood...
In your eyes.
I'd build a boat.
Out of your ribcage,
To set the birds free.
You heard me!
Butterflies?
**** butterflies,
I got birds inside me.
No.
What I have to say,
comes from the rip chord
of my razor blades.
Waiting my whole life
for that rubber band
to snap back.

Thank God for my destruction.
Thank God for my ruble.
Because tree's
grow out of the sides
of stone cold mountains.
That have been blown up
by the rough hands
of people mining for gold.

And people set forest fires
on purpose.
To get rid of the dead stuff.
So new things can grow.
And Sometimes.
I pick the plants.
Just to see how much dead stuff
I can accumulate,
before I set myself on fire.
And when I do,
I swear to God.
I'll be an empty notebook.
So you can cover me with lines.
The good kind.
That come from your pencil.
Cause we don't have to roll up
dollar bills
to see the moon, anymore.

My name is Jaclyn,
and I have a drinking problem.
I am trying to find the courage,
to ask you to love me anyways.

My mom used to say,
Don't you dare put someone
through what you did to us.
You are not a good person
when you're drunk.

Yeah, I'll quit drinking..
Next weekend.
I swear, This is the last time.
But I'm sure you've heard that line.
I've worn out the meaning,
in the knees of my jeans.
Dry heaving.

She brings me a glass of water,
and all I gave her was a *******,
and a *******.
I just wanted to have fun.
At the expense of my love.

Here is my word:
I will never make
you be the girlfriend,
of a dead girlfriend.
Because we got too many
dead friends already.

This is my getting sober poem.
This is my "not passing out
in a parking lot" poem.
This is my "You gotta die
from something, but it will
not be an overdose" poem.

Please.

This is my,
"Please Love Me Through This"
poem.

Just because I wanted to die,
Doesn't mean I wasn't living.
I was Just barely scraping by.
But it was enough.
To chain me to a pipe.
Here's to hoping
That this was our last goodbye.
And To the days you couldn't get out of bed.
Here's To the days you were the monster under your own bed.
I am still writing.
In hopes that it's enough.
To let my words out.
They are screaming,
For the chance to be heard.
I am still here.
With a heart beat,
to make the waves
that your inner tube jumps to.
Like the lake wasn't deep enough,
So you added my hoop to jump through.
I am waiting,
for my life to begin,
but it has already started,
where there was once was an end.
I was adopted.
Thank god for those two,
people who fell in love for night.
Thank God,
For the wrongs who made a right.
Because I am still here.
And that is enough.
My God, that is enough,
There is a light,
that keep shining.
And I cannot sleep
when there are stars that are dying.
I look up,
to the sky that goes on forever,
because maybe you are looking there, too.
I was crying,
On the day that I met you.
Wondering if I would be enough.
Wondering If I was what you thought of.
Because for years,
I thought of a face that I could be.
Somebody who actually looks like me.
Like I look in a mirror,
and I saw you looking at me.
My Mom.
Wherever you are just know,
That I see you
in every,
Star.

I can still taste you.
I can still smell you.
Night falls, and I can feel you.
My throat closes and
I start to sweat.
I am in that house again.
The only light comes from
Ellen on the TV.
I pack you up, and
Breath you in.
She says slow down.
I say why.
She says I don't need you
Dying on my couch.

I Just feel a lot.
I told you I would write about it.
So here it is.
I am me.
And I have been hurt.
So I know what it feels like
to be someone's second choice.
but you will never be my second choice.
And I believe you.
When you say you don't believe me.
But I will do what I can
to ease the idea that someone else
is in my thoughts.
because it's just an idea.
And I don't know what I am saying
half of the time
but the other half
I am constantly.
trying to come up with a line
that will ease your mind.
like I **** up,
but I mean what I say.
Even on my drunkest day.
But you are always my first thought.
Like getting over the worst,
was just a thought.
because I can handle the worst.
I don't hope for the best,
I prepare for it.
Because my head,
doesn't allow me to feel,
Things that make me happy.
So when I fell like my heart will explode
I run.
Into myself,
Because me.
What ever I am,
Will be there.
And that's hard to explain.
So when I wish I had something better to say,
I will just tell you the truth.
How my heart was abandoned.
How I long to be felt.
How my heart feels so much,
It makes the grand canyon
Feel ashamed to be felt.
My heart melts.
Yes, My heart melts.
And i don't how to say it anymore.
Because I thought I could say it.
But when it comes to you,
I'm not joking.
Like the butterflies
were surprised
when you said " This is good."
It was like a breathe of fresh air,
That I could finally breath.
When you said,
This is good.

This is good.

My heart aches for your simplicity.
Your kiss on my cheek.
Absent.
It's only been a week.

Is this what it's like
to be dependable?
Depending on your
words and lips.

love is a nuisance.
Love is a new stance.
Love is your black pants.
They are old and worn out.
They fit your legs like a glove.

The garbage can
will never see our love.
The garbage can
is recreation.

Your filthy mouth,
the night we almost
had a three sum
with the black boy
down the street.

I am so glad,
it was only us between
your sheets.

you are a book,
even I would like to read.

I just want to cry.
I close my eyes.
The tears dried up three years ago.
My heart, the piece of gum on the bottom of your shoe.
I only say I love you
Because I know you won't say it back.
Maybe I just like the sound of that.
Nothing. Your silence,
Breaks through my fortress.
Pokes holes in the theories
of the should have's and maybe's.
It was never meant to be
she says as she walks away.

We have words in our hearts,
That will never be free.
Like my biggest secret
is that I gave my parents PTSD.
How ******.
That I hurt people who love me.
And I love them,
but did you really love them?
Yes.
Sometimes it's not like that.
See, we love people the best we know how.
And sometimes that doesn't feel good.
Like every time the house whispers,
my mom wakes from a dead sleep,
wondering if I'm still alive,
and why this is her life?
Or how she used to go to the grocery store,
an hour away from home.
in hopes she wouldn't run into some body
That maybe she'd know.
For the fear she'd have to explain,
her daughters in the loony bin,
but she's not insane.
Just off the deep end.
So I could dive.
Right into my life.
Head over feet,
So if I were a bed,
all you'd see were the sheets.
Like if I were a mirror,
I'd be a piece of glass.
So you could see right through
so I could show you my last cast,
with the fishing line of my life,
how all I could do was hold on tight.
And hope that my dad strung the pole right.
When I was 7, I caught a fish.
But he said to throw
it back so it could grow.
And little did I know,
that he just wanted it to get stronger.
So it could believe in itself,
that it could breathe above the water.
That just because I was sinking,
didn't mean that I would Drown.

I just have so much to say.
I was afraid.
That the words coming out,
were going to be worse than
the words coming in.
The way you and my anxiety
fit so well together.
Isn't it funny
how only the living
can tell you you're dead?
The greatest thing we can do
is live, Even though we're dying.
We'll never feel each moment the same.
Because every moment is a time capsule
burred in our brains.
So we can visit it on a later day.
On the days that we need sunshine,
for the flowers to grow.
So I can make you a crown.
And I can Say that the grass is growing,
The grass is still growing.
So I can use it as a pillow for the blanket
I used on our first date.
Our First date.
Was a mix of Grilled Cheese
And Lawn Mowers.
And you still came back.
When I thought picking the grass,
was the best way to pass the time.
But instead, my head is filled.
With every excuse to grab you,
and pull you in.
Like if she still talks to me tomorrow,
I'll be counting that as a win.
A win for the butterflies.
Because I'm afraid of them.