I was a princess once
It was long before I was sad
I was daddy's little girl and mommy's little angel
I used to twirl in my dresses and bows
happily singing my songs
then I grew up
I lost myself
I shattered
I tried to pick up the pieces
just  for one day
one day, my birthday, to be whole again
I only had enough glue and tape to piece myself together for one day
I was queen for that day
I was turning 15, my quinceañera, I was queen for a day
My dress, my makeup, my hair was perfect
I was queen for the day
but once the party was over, and my dress was taken off
my makeup washed off, my hair back to its messy oily self
I look into the mirror and I'm no longer queen
it's 2:21 am the day after my birthday and I'm still broken
I'm still me and that *****
My demons screamed, my nails clawing, trying to get out of my skin
Sure, I was queen for a day, but I'm not a queen
I don't rule, I'm not majestic, nor radiant nor elegant
I was like a little kid for a while
playing pretend
playing dress up
although I was beautiful, I was beautiful for one day
one day and one day only.
I wish I was beautiful for more than just one day
but there is only so much glue and so much tape
those aren't permanent fixes, those are temporary
just like my reign

stitches.
a stab taken for healing purposes
proof my being is but dangling on a string.
mental scarring turns out to be more permanent than the ones I gave my wrist.

self-hate, self-doubt, self-destruction
I'm a snake that bites its own tail
donating a venom transfusion into my bloodstream.

staples.
shards of metal punched through my life
in a sad attempt of composure.
running from myself as my life runs away from me
emotional damage runs deeper than any blade could.

self-medicated by the pain
and mistaking poison for a sweet elixir
my world turns upside down in a matter of minutes.

sutures.
a single strand of fiber
responsible for keeping everything sewn together.

I'm a pretty little cross-stitch
patterned to perfection but laced with nightmares and a handful of bad memories.

In the alphabet, there are 26 letters: 5 vowels and 21 consonants.
In the English language alone, there are over 600,000 words all made up of these consonants and vowels.
So many words.
So many things already said too many times and too little.
Originality is something to be desired;
Because I won't be the hundredth person that day to tell you that everything will be okay.
It will all work out.
You're fine.
You'll get over it.

No.

600,000 words in the English language and I'm left stumbling for the right ones just to try to make you smile again.
There's not more fish in the sea because they were your ocean.
You won't be with them again soon because you need to live a long life! even if they couldn't.
The sun won't be brighter tomorrow; it will shine just the same.
And I'm sorry.
When you shot for the moon you couldn't reach the stars, but maybe next time if you shoot for the stars you'll be caught by the moon.

This world is full of things unspoken and words not said even when they need to be poured out like alphabet soup we leave them in the can.
Because it's taboo or rude, there are times when "you just don't say those things" no matter how true they may be.
I could write you a novel of the things that I believe to be correct but that won't make the pain go away.

A picture is worth a thousand words and heartbreak is worth a million.
I just don't have anything useful to fill in those spaces where the words are supposed to go.

In the alphabet, there are 26 letters: 5 vowels and 21 consonants.
In the English language alone, there are over 600,000 words all made up of these consonants and vowels.
And I can't think of a single one to say to you.

I have
   big dreams

        and a  
            realistic mind.

You
     can
  only
         imagine
               the
  frustration.

i don't think anyone will understand
the pain
of being completely abandoned
by the people who are supposed to love you the most.

there was a boy, with a name like a superhero
and hair like the ocean
i think he knew he was special,
from the way he dressed to how he didn't give half a ****,
he knew he wasn't like the rest of us
he's out of this world,
alienated, quick, loud
he was floating on clouds
and he never came down.
don't ask me if i loved him,
because i didn't.
don't ask me if i thought he was perfect,
because you know i did.
and his eyes are deep as the sea,
begging me to come out to shore, come out to play
in the depths of the waters
and i stared into his eyes in the middle of the crowds
and watched the tears appear in his eyes
and disappear just as quickly, because he can cry on demand.
his brother is gay and his father is on the board
and his hugs make me feel warm.
i know this boy
and he colors outside of the lines
and he breaks the crayon in half,
and finds another way to express himself.

if you were the sun and he were the moon
he'd die every day just to let you breathe
and if you're in need of a home for your broken heart
he'd make a house out of sticks on the beach, where you could live happy ever after
he'd live for you, he'd die for you, he'd do it all over again for you
he'd study the way your eyes roll back when he said something cliche
just as you'd watch the cigarette hang off his lips like a circus show in an artificially lit gas station
he'd rub little circles on your hand when introducing you to his friends because you were nervous
he'd fight off all the little demons dancing in your head by spinning you around his room like a ballroom floor
he'd say 'i love you' even if he knew those words couldn't hold you together forever
he'd say them for him, for you, for the nights ahead where you're miles away thinking of laying on his bedroom floor
you'd say 'don't' and he'd kiss you in the middle of your sentence to lengthen the limit of your forevers
he'd hold on to your wrists when you tried to slam his door, he'd let you hit him when you were angry
he'd climb up in the sky and hang off the edge of the crescent moon, and he'd reach up to grab a star to bring back down for you
he'd rearrange the constellations and align the planets to be just like you'd always dreamt about
he'd feel a pain in his stomach when the sun caught the tint of your hair the first day you said goodbye
he'd call you just to hear your voice on the answering machine, because you would never pick up
he'd stay with old friends just to ask how you've been, and feel an emptiness when he found out you were doing just fine
a boyfriend, an apartment, and a disease called growing up that you'd whispered you'd never catch one summer night
he'd do it all for you
if you just
let him in