All I could ask for
Is a tight hug when I cry
A light kiss on the cheek,
Saying everything will be alright.
All I could ask for is your sweaty hand in mine
as we walk the town aimlessly.
All I could ask for is your love,
True and complete.
All I could ask for is kind words
When I'm sad.
All I could ask for is for you
to fight for me
To want me
to love me
to want to keep me by your side.
To kiss me
to hug me
to miss me when I'm gone
To hold me close when i'm with you
All I could ask for is to know you love me back.

Being with you is having a best friend.
Giggles and belches and pillow fights.
We scream out in joy, rolling and tumbling
Across the room.

Rummaging through the fridge,
returning with armfuls of food.
The mess spreads over the whole kitchen,
Eggs cook underneath the pan.

Meals fit for giants scarfed down in seconds,
our bellies grow three times their size.
We sit, and groan, unable to move.
Smiles splashed across our faces.

Legs tangled, heads in odd angles,
Your snore like a baby bear.
We toss and turn as we pull closer,
dreaming of our future plans.

Passionate kisses, soft touches,
We exercise in the one way we know how.
As close to each other as physically possible,
"I love you" 's whispered in ears.

I talk endlessly, and you listen.
You repeat things you've told me time and again,
But I listen.  Happily, for the way your eyes light up
bring happiness to my life, if only for the moment.

I know I am not alone,
I have a best friend,
A lover,
I have you.

The monster takes me under,
once again.
He tears away at my logic,
turning me an awful shade of green.
The monster takes me under,
to play with all my thoughts.
Injecting me with poison,
to make me lose control.
The monster takes me under,
makes me see things that aren't there.
The monster takes me under,
into a state of udder despair.
The monster knows how to control me,
to make me his lovely puppet.
He knows what makes me happy,
He knows what makes me sad.
But most of all the Monster knows,
What makes me jealous and oh so mad.
The monster has the power,
to turn me against my friends.
The monster knows what he wants,
and won't stop until the end.
The monster knows my pains,
and how I will react.
The monster also knows,
just when he should attack.
The monster takes me under,
he makes me turn away
from all the love I'll leave behind,
When I really want to stay.

Broken and bruised
I sit and wait for you to arrive.
I wait for you to save me,
though you never do.
It should not be a surprise,
yet somehow I am shocked.
I sit and wait for you.

I am broken,
my pieces lay about the floor.
I try to collect them
but I am blind.
I wait for you to arrive,
to help me pick up the pieces,
but you never do.
Somehow, I am shocked.

I am bruised and torn,
by my own hands.
I wait for you to arrive,
sew my skin together,
kiss my bruises,
wipe my tears.

I wait for you,
but you never arrive.
Somehow,
I am not surprised.

I am cold.
Cold from the inside, out.
My hands are cold,
my feet are cold,
my legs are cold,
my ******* are cold,
my nose, my lips, my toes,
my ankles, my stomach, my back.
my insides.
My heart, mind.
Everything,
is cold.
The days fluctuate between freezing,
cold, chilled,
and very rarely, warm.
Yesterday was warm.  Warm,
all day long and it
was amazing.  I could feel
myself again,
I existed
as more than just a ghost,
an invisible girl.
I was warm.
Happy, warm.
There are good days and
there are bad days and
there are average days, leaning
to either good or bad.
Yesterday was a good day.  A good day
that i have not experienced in a very,
very long time.
too long.
Oddly long.
It was lovely.
Though the warmth and the good
could not last.  Of course,
nothing ever can last.
Today is cold and
uncomfortable.
Cold.

My soul is a vast
terrifying wasteland.
It has always been this way.

Then you came to fill
the void in my heart
and I truly believed you were here to stay.

As a lover or friend
I felt the connection.
One I thought would never fray.

Now suddenly I am empty
a void once again.
I don't know how it came to be this way.

In a few short hours
I lost the one friend
I was sure would never stray.

It is okay if your feelings
have seeped from your heart,
But why must you leave me this way?

I gave you a chance
I gave you more and more.
But suddenly you have nothing to say.

When we parted last night,
you were my night dressed in armor.
Now you have drifted away.

I don't know what I did,
Or what I may have said
To make you want to throw me away.

From this I cannot recover.
This time it's too far.
I've lost you, you've gone far away.

You make me burst out in tears.
Joy, sadness, and love.
I am overwhelmed
each and every time
I see you.

The Butterflies return
Time after time.

Your chin so prominent,
Your smile so bright,
Your eyes so entrancing.

An embrace like no other,
Warm, filled with love.
Awkward and uncomfortable.

Kisses soft, hard, slow, fast.
Intense.

You pretend to be, things you are not,
But inside I see your love, compassion,
Fear, sorrow, joy.

Giggles like a child ring true from your mouth,
as I softly tickle your tanned, speckled belly.

Wrapped in your arms,
a caterpillar in a cocoon.
Safe, sound, secure.

We yell and we cry.
We kiss and we smile.
We hurt and we heal.

You are mine,
I am yours.
No matter who has loved you,
or who will love you when we part,
The love that pours from my heart,
for you,
Will continue until I cease to.

You make me laugh,
cry,
scream,
shudder,
in joy, anger, despair, love.

You lift me from the abyss that is my mind.
You remind me why I want to be alive.

I cannot write a love poem
to make you come back to the door.
I cannot write a love poem
to change what is and always was.
I cannot write a love poem
to make my tears subside.
I cannot write a love poem
to make us meant to be.
I cannot write a love poem
to end all of the fights.
I cannot write a love poem
to change the way you see me.
I cannot write a love poem
to make me seem more sane.
I cannot write a love poem
to be what you want me to become.
I cannot write a love poem
to make you see my way.
I cannot write a love poem
to gain back all your love.
I cannot write a love poem
to change who i am to you.
I cannot write a love poem,
though I truly wish i could.
I cannot write a love poem,
it wouldn't do me any good.

But did i?
I'm not so sure,
Though I cannot tell whether I did this to myself or
if I was placed here by genetics or
if it was outside influences or
a little of each.
All I know
is this is where
I am and I
Want to
need to
have to
must leave.
What will I do if
I can't?
How can I stay in this dark place
where I have been stuck,
forced to live in silence
and pain
and struggle
each day?
Every.
Day.
I do not know
How I became this way,
So severely ****** up.
I am cold,
because of my problems.
I am gray,
because of my problems.
I do not glow.
I am yellow.
I am red.
I am striped
like a brown zebra.
That is my fault.
It is all
my fault.
I let myself become this monster and now
I am under the bed, socializing with
the other monsters and
I cannot leave, they won't
let me leave.
I am stuck.
Stuck in the dark
under the bed
with the other monsters.
They tear me apart and
I help them.
Slowly, slowly, ever so slowly,
I **** myself.
Which is worse?
killing yourself in one swift move,
or doing it ever so slowly
over a lifetime?

They say their goodbyes
as I sit back and watch,
silently wishing
I was doing the same.

They will begin new lives,
happy and scared.
Meeting new people,
making life-long friends.

They are building
their future.
Educationally and
emotionally.

I pretend to be happy,
for them, again and again.
But envy engulfs me,
as I clench my fists.

I am stuck here alone,
with the old and forgotten.
Not to experience new things,
new people, new life.

I will remain the same,
neither growing nor changing.
More so, reverting
Back to the horrors I've grown to love.

I am jealous and sad,
lonely and depressed.
I pretend to be happy,
But for what good?

I will sit here alone.

An ode to my father,
for whatever reason.
The father who seems to find
great joy in the fights.
The father who never
tells me goodnight.
To the father who loves,
to the father who hates.
To the father who stands there
guarding the gates.
To the father who's sweet,
to the father who's sour.
To the father whose glare
makes me sink down and cower.
To the years of the silence,
to the years of crushed dreams,
the years of good memories
ripped down the seams.
To the years of the love
you showed to my sisters,
while I annoy you
like a pestering blister.
To all the time crying
spent alone in my bed.
To the feelings of loneliness
you've ingrained in my head.
An ode to you, Father,
For whatever reason.

Mi fai scoppiare in lacrime.
Gioia, tristezza, e l'amore.
Sono sopraffatto
ogni volta
Ti vedo.

Le Farfalle ritorno
Di volta in volta.

Il mento così prominente,
Il tuo sorriso così luminoso,
I tuoi occhi così incantevole.

Un abbraccio come nessun altro,
Caldo, pieno d'amore.
Imbarazzante e scomodo.

Baci soffici, duro, lento, veloce.
Intenso.

Fai finta di essere, cose che non sono,
Ma dentro di me vedere il tuo amore, la compassione,
La paura, il dolore, la gioia.

ride piccoli come un anello vero figlio dalla bocca,
come ** dolcemente solleticare la vostra abbronzato, ventre maculato.

Avvolto tra le tue braccia,
un bruco in un bozzolo.
Cassetta di sicurezza, suono, sicuro.

Abbiamo urlare e piangere.
Ci baciamo e ci sorridiamo.
Abbiamo fatto male e guarire.

Tu sei mia,
Io sono tuo.
Non importa chi ti ha amato,
o che vi piace quando ci separiamo,
L'amore che sgorga dal mio cuore,
per te,
Continuerà fino a che non cessa di.

Mi fai ridere,
piangere,
urlo,
brivido,
nella gioia, la rabbia, la disperazione, l'amore.

Voi mi levate dal baratro che è la mia mente.
Mi ricordi per questo che voglio essere vivo.

One hundred and five days
wasted.
Down the drain
along with the crimson and
I tried.

Pushed to the limit, I
Could not control
that which my skin
begged for.

Crawling like a thousand
ants.  Screaming, wretching,
Pleading. Give me
More.

And I gave in, weak in my
Pain.  I could not control,
Myself, my mind, my
Hands.

They say relapse,
Is necessary in recovery but
I say it's
Failure.

Failure and weakness,
Reminding me that I cannot
Overcome the
Monsters.

I begin the count again,
One two three,
Waiting to see how long it will
Take.

One Hundred and Five days
Gone to waste, and I
Tried, and I
Failed.

You sit down with a pen and
expect words to flow out
effortlessly,
like butterflies exploding from your fingertips.
You expect them to be beautiful,
filled with crystals and blue eyes.

They come out like anvils, heavy and gray.
Devoid of emotion.

“Really Skinny” he says.
That’s how he likes his girls.
He says this to the size six,
ex-bulimic, who has been having a hard time
eating this week.
“really skinny”
And so, a sandwich a day becomes
enough.
Because if he wants “really skinny”
everyone else must too.
And if he doesn’t want you,
no one will.

He says he is unworthy of love-
incapable of being loved.
But, it is you he is describing.
It is you.

Because you are good for kissing
and you are good for licking.
You are good for cuddling,
particularly senza clothing.

You are good for rubbing backs
and running painted fingers through
hair.

You are good for passing time.
You are good for comforting.
You are good for *******.

But you are not good for love.
You will never be good for love.

You don’t know how to be good for love
until it charges onto your doorstep
like a raging bull;
until it is intrusive and you have
no choice
but to be
good for love.

Then, you are only good for so long
Only until someone else is better.

And then, you are good for *******.

I wish I had a better answer
for your questions every night.
I wish I could tell you,
that I'm really not alright.
But how does one bring up,
the fact that even I
don't really know the answer,
so instead I blankly lie.