looking back, you never wanted me.
you said you wanted a good democrat to take home to mama.
you wanted a trophy.

i sped all the way to campus.
i'm sure i went over the speed limit.
you couldn't wait one more hour.

i wouldn't say yes.
we had a date, but i couldn't say yes.
you need the answer, don't you?

i have never let another see me naked.
others have taken my clothes, but you took my shield.
i trusted you with my vulnerability.

in the afterglow, i wrapped my arms around you, a hand on your chest.
you made big promises and big plans that we both know you couldn't keep.
i trusted you and told you i'd see you after work.

you said you were so tired.
i offered up a bed, but you said you needed to think.
you always need to think.

i woke up three hours early so i could stop by your room before class.
i wanted to cuddle, you told me to stop it.
i thought you were joking.

the text still lives in my phone.
i didn't want to make it official.
so you didn't want to make it work.

you never wanted me.
you just wanted a status update.
you didn't care who you dated.

you were gonna use me.
i was gonna be the girl you could show mama.
i was gonna be your prize.

it's better that it happened this way.
you are not who i thought you were.
i am not who you wanted me to be.

-hm.

this is my fourth day 10.
my fourth recovery run.
but this time, it'll work.
I know it will work.

I know that the clo-
ser I get to you, the hard-
er I fall apart.

you left a massive impact on me.
i have scars of both the mental and physical variety from you.
i fell too hard and too fast.

why am i falling again?
why do i want to see you?
why do i want to apologize?

i hate that i miss you.
i hate that i think you're a monster.
i hate that you hate me.

I have this little pink composition notebook with that title written across it.
After feverishly writing in it while I was in Europe, a ******* our trip asked what I meant by that title.
I made up some excuse,
because when you are stuck in a room with three girls, the last thing you want to admit is that you aren't quite a girl.
This notebook is full of prose and poetry about gender and binaries and prefixes that a national merit scholar has trouble understanding.
Most people on that trip would not need a notebook on why they don't belong.
Because they do,
and I do not.

i have no idea what to do.
i am so lost.
last time i was in this situation,
i pulled away and realized how little she cared.
i do not want to realize the same about you.
but i can't make it work for both of us.
-
i told him.
i know that i said i wouldn't.
i had to get his advice.
he said to break it off and pull away.
he said you'd snap back.
but i can't believe him for a second.
-
im sorry.
i am torn between hoping you see this
and hoping you never do.
this has to be done and i hate this so much.
im sorry.
but i know i will be sorry.
-
when she started giving me resistance,
when i was clearly more in it that she was,
i pulled away.
i tried getting close to her again and she was stuck.
i had changed so much.
but the part of me that loved her stayed the same.
-
this isn't you and her fighting each other.
it's you and me.

maybe not today,
but in our hearts,
we are one.

him-                                                                                her-
smug                                                                              content
artist                                                                               writer
excited                                                                            lazy
music maker                                                                  music listener
caring                                                                             apathetic
midnight kisses                                                              midnight calls
skipped practices                                                           skipped dates
large appetite                                                                 large body
small body                                                                     small appetite
the nbhd                                                                        the neighbourhood
instagram                                                                      youtube
mine                                                                               hers

oh darling, even
the strongest shelters collapse.
even you will break.

its getting harder
to even breathe
without you.
without air.

I don't know if I am the writer
or the character.

I don't know who has control.

Am I the mun?
The writer?
The one who makes decisions?

Or am I the muse?
The character?
The puppet?

If I am the muse,
what mun would **** up
a character this bad?

a poets sin may be the words they create,
but when you said poetry isn't pretty
you forgot about your own.
and in violet,
you have truly succeeded
in speaking the language.
your words are concise in a way that mine will never be.
but you are amazing.

this is me saying
that i don't care how i am
treated, i love you.

the sun beats on my shoulders.
the autumn breeze ruffles my hair.
i walk happily.
the path is laid clearly.
the destination is near.

i near your location.
the house is in front of me.
the siding and roofing is deteriorating.
i knock on the weakened door.
the door blows down.

the house is too worn down.
i barely recognize it.
the color is different.
the memories are gone.
i am without a childhood home.

a small girl sits alone in a crowded room.
she watches groups of people have fun
and laugh
and forget about her.
she replays the thought that has haunted her for a while.
**** yourself, you're rather worthless.
she feels worthless.
she has a list of people she could talk to, but none of them are helping her.
she doesn't wanna ask for help, that makes her feel small and needy.
so she waits.
the girl is so busy looking for suicide that she never looks at the people who want to help her.
if she truly looked around, she'd see that suicide would not just hurt her.
but she's too busy looking for suicide to look for reasons to live.

he doesn't like me for me.

he doesn't like me for my poetry.
he doesn't like me for my thoughts.
he doesn't like me for how i look.
he doesn't like me for how i act.
he doesn't like me for how i am.

he looks at me and sees not a person.

he looks at me and sees not a girl.
he looks at me and sees not a poet.
he looks at me and sees not a smart girl.

he sees a wasteland.

he sees a girl without love.
he sees broken skin and flaws.

he loves ruins.
he loves fixing people.

you can't fix everyone.
you can't fix a heart that has so many bandages on it that you can't tell what's latex and what's muscle.
you can't fix me unless i break even more.

do you want me to break more?
you love seeing me break.
that's kind of sad.
pathetic.
you love when i hate myself.
and i hate myself so you won't go away.

you told me i was a creative light in a colourless world.
you told me i was resilient.
you told me i was beautiful.

and now, even though it's been hard,
i believe you.

I cannot make this work without your help.
it's a whole lot like a school project; I'm the straight a valedictorian 4.0 and you're the sports star only in school so you can wear a jersey I am not a jersey to be worn.
when the project takes a turn towards sports you're interested but I do everyone else and I picked you as my partner after seeing what you can do I bring up the project you pale away you ignore me.
I cannot make this work without help and it hurts me that I can't have you.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.

I want to hate you.
I want to love you.

I throw you away
and then pick you back up

falling in love with you was like making tea on a hot summer day; useless but kinda okay because tea makes everything better.

you were like a massive piece of cake that was drizzled with arsenic because once someone could peel away the poisonous parts you were pretty **** tasty.

you didn't understand my disorders and I helped you with yours, and that's the worst.

**** Emma. really, **** Emma because she's the one who got you addicted.

you're a *** addict and a drug addict and I do not want you and I do not need you and I do not love you.

but I miss you.

I have this really bad habit of not getting angry.
I don't allow myself to.
I shut down all human emotions.
Like when a friend treats me like a backup plan, a just-in-case friend,
I just shut down.
I begin yelling at myself in the mirror, imagining that it's my friend I'm looking at and not me and really if they were here there'd be no problem,
but before I get done with the first sentence,
I stop.
Breathe.
Feel nothing again.
Maybe it's because I think so little of myself.
Even expressing negative reactions toward a friend makes me less of a person and a super ****** friend.
Maybe, I've always lined up with my friend's favorite person in believing
"No one can make you feel inferior without your consent."
Because if they try,
I get back at them by not feeling at all.

did you really like me?*
you left me. you left

if this ship will sink,
i would rather you be at
fault than it be mine.
i would rather you be on
board with me than sat
at the docks with some other
lady trying to
sell her body to you. but
with you i feel that
we are capable of great
things; babe, we'll never go down.

he doesn't add up.
he's like a nice problem with a twist.
like √-25.
it's perfect.
just too negative.
sadly, someone already tried to figure him out.
to add him up.
so they took imagination out and made him perfect.
and although at this part in my academic career I can properly reduce √-25,
i'd much rather leave you imperfect.

nearly 2 years later,
i am gracious that you were my first love.
if i hadn't have fallen so hard,
everything would be different.
so thank you.
thank you for ******* me up.

he is the sun in
a world covered in darkness

he had gray vans
and khakis
and a gray jumper
and brown eyes
and brown hair
and tan skin.
but all I wanted
to see on him
were those
dark blue hanes.

our highs are like the
himalayas and our lows;
death valley. but all
i want is to be at sea
level with you.

I first learned the definition of clingyness when I met you.

clingyness is when someone is too emotionally attached; when they just can't give it up; when they're too close to someone; when they can't just throw in the towel; they have too much money on the game.

but clingyness is something you show none of.

some how it is so easy for you to just give it up.

you are like a 911 operator; people call you; people ask you for help, you give them help; you stop caring.

when I first walked into the strange building with no red no white all gold; when I climbed the stairs for the third time that first day; when I finally found a familiar face and heard them say I was finally gonna meet; when I saw you, I was drawn.

your name had lingered once on my lips before I was desiring your lips on mine; your greeting had rolled off my tongue once before I poised it to speak paragraphs of your greatness; your image had sat in my temporal lobe once before my cerebellum was telling my fingers to pick up a pen and write things for you.

you were like the sun and I was a planet orbiting around you; I was pretty much like pluto; you had so many planets around you; your effects barely reached me; everyone forgot about me; I still orbited around you because I had no choice; even though she did receive benefits and no one forgot her your venus felt the same way; you were your own mercury.

you may be smart; you may be able to balance equation in your sleep; you may speak circles around a college professor but if you were truly smart you would know how a treat a women the way that they should be treated.

see you have this way of making women feel like the only way they'll be loved is by being broken; like there is some innate limit on the intake and output of love; like love works like a speed limit; this is so toxic; when I first got pushed away by you I thought it was perfectly okay to hurt myself to receive love from you; the joke was on me because you spent all your love on yourself; maybe that's why you push everyone away you can't give or receive love; so I gave all my love to you and it bounced back but didn't go to me it was just wasted in the air kind of like when I said I loved you as you walked away and ****** I know you heard me.

I was too close to you; when you chose her I cringed; it was my fault; I'm too clingy.

when i began drifting out of your arms and into hers I realized that wholeness is valuable; love doesn't have a limit; I shouldn't have clung to someone who treated me the way you did; I cling to her now but it's okay because things are reciprocated.

I am not so much mad.
it was my fault.
what was I to expect?
I'm not good enough.

I am not so much upset.
you still love her
oh god
love me instead.

I will not waste tears,
only ink.

he is my lawyer
because I can talk
to him about my
'illegal' activity, but why
should love be illegal?

he is my doctor
because he can fix
me when I need
it. but why should
a girl be broken?

he is my everything
because I always seem
to be needing his
help. but why should
I trust him so?

many times, when you run through someones thoughts, you know why you are there.
i know i am in my best friends thoughts because she worries about me.
i know i am in my grandmothers thoughts because she worries about everyone.
why am i in your thoughts?
what makes you hate me?
i have said a handful of words to you and now my crush and i are your favourite targets.
you barely know me, and yet i apparently disgust you.
well, maybe the repulsion you feel upon hearing my lower timbre voice, my lower timbre instrument, maybe the repulsion you feel upon seeing my too big waistline, my too big ***, my too big face with too little makeup on it, maybe all those awful feelings would vanish if you knew me.
i bet if you took time to dive into a lake, you could find gold at the bottom.
even if the top makes you wanna **** yourself.

the back of my neck.
my collarbone area.
the area between my ****.
the area under my ****.
my stomach.
my wrists.
my back.
my hips.
my thighs.
my calves.

shoot arrows with those hurtful words at me.
fire bullets with those laughs.
just know that the best marksmen never shoot at the biggest targets.

I hate rain on Tuesdays.
Wednesdays are my least favorite days and if Tuesday's dark and gloomy how will Wednesday be?
but I love rain because the sky reminds me of my eyes and the feeling of wet drops on my skin is equivalent to your rough hands pulling me on an adventure and I want to adventure with you and I want you to take me along with you and some people compare their boys to skies and seas and flowers and moons but I will compare you to rain on Tuesdays because it all kinda spirals down but I want to hit rock bottom with you.

you told me that God put you in my life,
and that knowing me was a blessing.
at the time, I thought that was a good thing.
but now, I know better.
I was your training for what was to come.
God put you in my life to **** me over.
and of the four people that I let in,
you were the only one that cared about my eating habits.
the other three didn't care,
and I honestly don't think you did either.

i will walk
away
and watch you crash
and burn.
you are nothing with out me.

she lives alone
and can't you tell?
it's never known;
her secret hell.
by day,
all seems alright
she'll never say
what haunts at night
various demons
that we'll never view
seem quite meaningless
to me and you
in the dark, secrets hide
for we all have a darker side.

when i met you the first time, i got chills.
i was suddenly cold.
i learned more about you and fell.
pretty hard.
the more i talked to you, the colder i felt.
i began seeing snowflakes in your eyes and flurries on your skin.
your snow buried me.
the white fluffy flakes that were directly from your heart entered my lungs and i drowned in you.
then, it began storming.
hard.
blizzards blew across the expanse of your sunken caves that laid between two sharp mountains.
i was snowed in for three months without love or hope or happiness.
the sun that i compare him to came out and melted you.
i'm still afraid of the cold.