i wonder, did it ever cross your mind
to wonder how it felt to give my heart to you?
how it felt to break down my walls and bare my soul?

yeah, okay.
i admit that may have been a bit dramatic.
but i think that's just how it was with you.
i felt every word, every laugh, every smile
[and, truthfully, every carefully platonic touch.]
just a little too much to suit my cowardly self.

the thing is, everything you came from
[and everything you brought me, too]
was always just a little too much for me.
oh, but you know how much i like it when it hurts.

so, i let those walls fall down and i bared my soul.
i asked for nothing more than you could give,
and i gave you everything i could give in return.

but now, i suppose you never told me one thing.
you felt i wanted something more from you,
enough to take away the thing that made you smile.

but god, you know me better than the things you accused me of.
how many times and in how many words had i wished not for you,
but for the happiness i knew you deserved?

there is only so much i can say,
and even little that i can do,
to make things different.

and i have nothing left to give, anyway.
my heart is tired of beating, and my soul?
it's just tired of being pushed around.

so i'll back myself in a corner,
and watch the world pass by.
pray for you to forgive me and, maybe,
stop by and say hi.

so i'm sitting.
[it seemed fitting, and…
well, life is different now.]
just sitting, nothing more.
i'm falling asleep; i'm sinking into my sheets.

but i'm waiting for you, because i've got this thing.
where i want you to know, every night, that i care.
so i'm sitting, just sitting, nothing more.
waiting for that moment he walks out your door,
so i can hear from you, and let you know
whether or not i'm doing just fine, tonight.

it's your birthday tomorrow, yes, that's right.
it's midnight now. twenty four hours.
what'll your eighteenth year bring you? hm?
will you dream sweetly every night? you deserve it.
at this point, i'm not even coherent, so who knows why
who knows why i'm even bothering doing this now.

but i couldn't let the 14th go by with nothing.
so i'll paint you a picture of me, right now.
my phone is in my lap, i've just sent you a text.
my legs are bare, crossed together underneath a sheet.
my tv is off, brand new is playing [of course] and
my desk lamp is on; it probably won't go out tonight.
my window is safely closed, locked tight, and so is my closet.
you know how scared i am of all my monsters.

my room's a mess; i couldn't find anything to sleep in.
[so i'm not, i have on a tank top and no shorts.]
and i've just gotten an idea. i like it, i think.
i think you will too.

i think i'm going to call it...

i don't know which birds sing in the mornings.
i like sunrises, but only if i haven't been to bed yet.
i like to emerge from my sheets and pillows when the sun is high
and the shadows are gone.
before then, the sun is too young and exuberant
and i have such an old and heartbreakingly tired soul.
the sun was barely over the old church outside your bedroom,
painting the bare walls of your room with the colors of the last supper.
you woke me up, soft and sweet,
like i know you can be, when you put to rest your premature bitterness and apathy.
i don't know how long you lay beside me, the ***** of your feet pressed against my shins,
your pinky finger tracing the freckles on my arm in the same pattern, countless times.
but it was the softest way i've ever woken up, and it reminds me of summer.
it reminds me that bruised does not mean broken,
and even shattered pieces can be reassembled.
it reminds me that there is love everywhere,
and we once had it in the most morning-sun way.

i really don't understand why i am this way.
why every day is a struggle, why i have to dredge up
every single ******* positive thought from the parts of my heart
that continue to beat and bleed.

i really don't understand why i can do this.
why i can sling excuses and *******, why i can talk away
every single ******* positive thing that could happen to me when
all i want is something to smile at.

i really don't understand what keeps me here.
what keeps me holding on to you, what makes me think of
every single ******* positive thing you did for me
when there was so much negative.

i really, really don't understand why everything i write
is so angry, so sad, so ******* angsty,
even when i've had a wonderful day and i could swear to you,
i could swear it doesn't hurt anymore.

nothing hurts anymore, and nothing makes me angry.
walk away from everything i felt for you
and everything i did for you
and all the tears i ******* cried for you,
and it won't hurt me, not this time.

i see you.

once:
in the way the light filters through the blinds.

twice:
at sunrise, soft and gray and tired, fingertipped conversations.
at sunset, languid and creaking, bones and skin and heavy eyelids.

three times:
in cemeteries, reading between the lines of nervous laughter and laced fingers.
in passenger seats, spinning tires while we spun out the sun with conversation.
on empty pages, aching for a way to get rid of a year’s worth of words.

you may not like this,
but i'm done pleasing you.
i don't owe you anything,
when i'd already given you everything.

for years and years,
[maybe three, maybe four;
it depends on who you ask.]
i've respected your opinions and wants.

but now, when all that's left is nothing,
i refuse to do that anymore.
so i'm writing this for me,
and to hell with how it makes you feel.

[it's not meant for you to read, anyway.
and if you do, well. curiosity killed the cat.
you won't find any satisfaction here.
don't come back.]

so *******, honestly. because until tonight i thought i felt okay, but i think i’m lonely.

my heart sticks to the walls of my chest and i’m thankful for the cold because it means i can wear mittens and have an excuse for the spaces between my fingers to be empty.

it’s a quarter after three in the morning, and i miss you.
and i don’t even know who i’m talking to, really.

but that’s kind of the problem, too. i’m not talking to anyone.
everyone’s sleeping, and i’d be sad but i don’t want to be sad anymore.
so i sing to my dog for an hour and do some laundry, and wonder where my words went.

and soon i’ll take a shower, and soon i’ll go to bed,
and soon you’ll wake up and not think of me.
and that’s okay, because as strangers, i have no place in your life.

and as strangers, you have no place in my heart or in my head.
but you, you are everywhere else. and that’s kind of the problem, too.

but i guess i understand why they say lonely people are always up in the middle of the night, because i am. because until tonight i thought i felt okay, but i think i’m lonely.

they say we accept the love we think we deserve
and you need to know that i have spent three years
thinking of your smile, and your laugh, and the touch of your hand, and being held as i sleep
and living for little signs, vague promises,
wasting afternoons, mornings, evenings on you
and i couldn't ever help but feel it was building up to something
but now i know that it was nothing i can really count on
because you could never tell me how you really felt
and i have to admit that now, finally
i am ever so much closer to accepting the love i think i truly deserve
and it isn't yours.

nothing feels any different and nothing has changed
but i feel husked out and full of echoes.
nothing inside me makes any sense
and i can’t bring myself to talk about it
because i don’t understand it,
i can’t make the words make sense in my head and
even if i could i don’t think i’d want to say anything out loud.

i want to crumble collar bones in my hands while i shake from the inside out
and tell my story to a fresh pair of ears, i want to talk but i want to be prompted,
i want someone to know what questions to ask or at least fake it.
i want someone to love me, to just plain old-fashioned love me
and i want to love them in return.

i want to be able to at least entertain the notion that one day i can be somebody’s and.
me and, she came over and, we went out last weekend and,
i just want to be somebody’s and.
i want to be somebody’s distraction.

someone told me once that i was an all or nothing type of girl.
and they meant it as a compliment, or rather an insult
draped and disguised to look like one.
but it's true, i know this.

and i have locked onto that phrase for years and years.
because i am so afraid to love someone wrong
that i love everyone too much, maybe.
or maybe not ever at all.

i can tell you what a crush feels like, list symptoms and
cross things off on a list one by exciting, miserable
one. but i cannot write on the excitement
of the brush of someone's fingers

or the bone-rattling nerves of an across-the-room glance.
i can't remember what rejection feels like and if
you asked me, i could not properly say
that i care about that anyway.

but i am familiar with this, the anxiety and this yearning.
to talk and laugh and say out loud what was said
to me and oh, however shall i respond?
that's what i'd say.

if i had a crush, anyway. but i am a girl who just...
does things all at once or not at all, and so
i find myself terribly frightened
to feel anything at all.

i have nothing to offer you but the words on my lips.
i'm not funny or witty.
i don't paint or take pictures.
i can't sing you a song from center stage.

there is tragedy written across my thighs,
and much of the same can be reflected in my eyes.
there is pessimism and irrationality in much of what i say,
and most of the good things get pushed away.

i'm nothing special, but i'm far from average.
i'm difficult and take things to the extreme.
but i would love you until the ends of the earth.
my bite is so much worse than my bark,
and lately both have come into play.
i complicate everything i do;
i feel like nothing is ever as easy as it seems.

i constantly trade one addiction for another.
my vices are what keep me grounded.
you are my favorite vice, my favorite addiction.
for you there will never be a replacement.

every word you say makes something in my heart sing.
you are the only one i'd ever break my rules for.
you are the only one who would ever understand what i say,
especially when i don't say anything.

but nothing this extraordinary lasts forever.
and something this strangling has to end.
so i did what i did and when i knew what i did,
you knew. that's all that matter.

i tell myself, one day.
one day you'll see.
by then, it'll be too late for me.
but i sleep just fine,
and meet my own eyes in the mirror.

if you knew me at all, you'd see.
see that the last thing i was thinking of was me.

but i think for now, we'll call this chronically unfinished.
maybe when i'm dead, i'll know how this ends.

all i have left are frayed nerves,
a flattened frame from being the doormat,
fingers worn to bone from writing it all out,
and a bunch of angsty poems.

but here's another angsty poem
from pitiful, insignifigant me.
i'll shout this one from the rooftop
and make you see me for who i am.
**** and vinegar and revenge,
sugar and spice and nothing nice.

this is all i have to give, so listen hard.
listen hard because i will never be
this honest again when i say,
oh my god, just tell me you don't care
about me and just want to
use me and get it over with because
i am sick of this *******.

you can tell me you care over
and over again until you are
blue in the face and it's not going
to matter because your actions say
otherwise and words are cheap.

and while you're at it, would you mind,
would you really ******* mind, if i
understood your motives? i was doing
just fine, i really was, i was getting along.
building my walls, brick by cemented brick.

but one word halts construction.
one phrase postpones completion.
and i'm doing it the same way
all over again.

i'm sick of giving myself to something
only to have it snatched away from me.
i'm sick of being the friend who's always there
only have no one be there for me when i need them.
i'm sick of being taken advantage of, i'm sick of...
i'm sick of being second rate.

i'm just sick.

words are cheap and talk is cheaper.
and that is all i've got from you.
actions are worth so, so much more.
straighten up, or i'm out.
thanks.

this was going to be a poem of epic proportions.
but not even poetry stands up to you and i anymore.
and every year it gets harder to explain this to you.
because i love you for everything you are, have been,
will be, cannot be, refuse to be, and try to be.

and that's really all there is to it.

we're still tragic and all wrong and we feel it, sometimes.
but i hope that no matter where you go next year,
i am with you somehow, even if you just remember me.
because whatever we are is not meant to die, fizzle, or explode.
it is meant to reassure and to be patient and to hold hands.

and that's really all there is to it.

there will always be somewhere that you can call collect.
i solemnly swear to accept any and all charges billed to me.
i would follow you until the ends of the earth, but only for us.
not for me or for you or poetry's sake, only if we needed it.
this is my "i'll see you soon," when you go away from me.

i will never be farther than you would like me to be.

it's been four years,
give or take.

i still drive down streets at night,
see one [or many] go out,
smile, and think of you.

i remember you telling me,
"when i die, i want to have control...
over something mundane, over a
small thing no one would notice."

i said you were crazy for planning
that kind of futuristic *******.
"you'll change your mind,
by the time you die."
that's what i said.

you died two years later, and ****.
**** if you didn't have control.
two years after that, i saw it.
a streetlight clicked off right as i drove beneath it.
it happened at the next one, the next one...
and at the next one? only a flicker.

you always loved ******* with me.

it's been two years since the first light,
but four years since you took control,
and didn't even say goodbye.

it's been four years, and i've lost track.
i've lost track of sips and blinks and tears.
all i can seem to keep track of now...
is how many streetlights go out in a row.

five.

i love it when you say
chrysanthemum, pedestrian
aminals, spectacles, nudist and crotch.

i hate it when you say
motherboard, adrenaline
angry, soaking, wrinkles, and rights.

it’s been too long since I heard you say
anything.

but i bet you don't know how hard it is.
and i bet you don't know how much i want to run.
because i can't tell you everything and
i can't talk about my past
and the things that were important to me, well.
you don't want to hear about them.
and all my special memories are ruined and
i can't share them with you because
you don't want to hear about them.

and all i want to do is to pretend that
we didn't meet the way we did and
we aren't tied together the way we are and
that i don't cry myself to sleep a few nights a week and
i don't ******* love you as much as i do and

you just can't understand.

i used to live another life.
i use to wake up from not sleeping every morning,
look in the mirror, and crave a blade.
i use to cross my eyes when my eyes were closed,
just to feel the world tilt and slide, because then,
maybe,
my brain will catch up and stop tilting and sliding around in my own head.

i used to scream and cry at night, silenced by my own fist in my mouth.
i used to wake up from not sleeping to cuts,
indents in my thigh from my own fingernails.
i use to close my eyes when someone passed me by,
just so they couldn’t see how empty mine felt.

i used to smile and laugh and not feel a ******* thing.
i use to wake up from falling asleep next to somebody,
anybody,
and wonder when the next time i’d get normal sleep would be.
i use to hold my eyelids closed with my hands,
because i was too scared to close them myself.

i used to live another life; i used to be another person.
when i wake up at night, and all i need is someone,
anyone,
i want to turn away from you.
i want you to know me as i am now.
i don’t want to be the shattered one, the one that needs fixing.
i want the chance to be whole.
i want you to not know everything you know.

i realize, though, that it doesn’t matter.
i’ll hide it all from you, the big stuff,
how i’m afraid to sleep,
afraid to walk by myself,
afraid i will lose myself-
in the effort to move away from my old self.
i’ll hide all of that from you, the important stuff,
because who has time for another person, anyway?
in the end, we’re all concerned with i.

i’m sad,
i’m scared,
i’m lonely,
i’m hungry,
i’m angry,
i’m tired,
i’m drunk,
i’m sober,
i’m high.
i’m low.

i will hide it all from you, because i don't want you to see me broken.
i don't want you to see me as the person i was.
i want to be new, and whole, and lovable,
and i want to be the one who helps,
not the one who needs help.
no one lets me be her.
won't you?

i think it was the kind of love
that alternates heartbeats
and steadies breathing.

i think it was the kind of love
that yearns and wants and
pleads for some kind of cure.

i think it was the kind of love
that soothes the heart and soul,
but still destroys your mind.

i think it was the kind of love
that scratches and gouges and
spits on you when you're down.

i think it was the kind of love
that smiles at you and holds
you close, at the end of the day.

i think it was the kind of love
that changes you and hurts
but leaves you so breathless.

what do you say to someone
to tell them everything you feel
when they were the reason behind
your words for years?

how do you say i love you
and happy birthday
and please don't leave me
and you mean everything to me
and you are still the reason behind my words
without it sounding trite or desperate?

it's been four years and i still don't know.
but i love you, please don't leave me.
you mean everything to me.
happy birthday.

my throat dries out and
my lungs cramp up.
my hands start to shake and
my heart beats too fast.

you cross your legs and
lean in close, and i
can feel your corpse breath
on
my
skin.

i close my eyes and
pray you'll leave.
you remind me i
always begged for you
to stick around, for just
one
more
night.

you and i both know this
is not what i had in mind.
your bludgeoned thigh and
your massacred wrists
are not what i had in mind.
your starry-eyed gaze and
your ***** crusted mouth
are not what i had in mind.

why do you insist on
reminding me of a night
i didn't witness?
my imagination has created
a video that is all too real.

i see you and
i hear you
like i was there.
like it was all my
*******
fault.

i'm sorry i let you bleed
to death in your
own bed.
i'm sorry i let you take
one bottle of pills
too many.
i'm sorry i let you
asphyxiate on your
own *****.

but please, please,
you've got to let me
turn this movie off.
you've got to rest in
peace. [or in pieces.]

otherwise, i'll be joining you shortly.
but i guess you'd like that,
wouldn't you?

you did always think death was
so very, very ******* glamorous.

i don't think i love you right,
and maybe i don't even love you at all.
because there's something in you so sick
and all-consuming that there's no room for anything else.
you are an all-seasons grinch,
ready with a bitter wit and a heart three sizes too small.
and that's supposed to be funny and timely
because in three hours it will be christmas
(and all i want for christmas is never having had you)
but it falls so flatly from my fingertips onto these keys.
and i don't even know what season it was when
you kissed me but i remember it didn't matter
and if i could do it again, i'd kiss you back.
but i don't love you and you sure as hell
don't love me and i can live with that
and i will always wonder why?
i've made a terrible mistake with you,
and i will always wonder what it was.

and if i close my eyes tonight,
just to see your face,
it certainly won't be the first.
and it certainly won't be the last.

and if i slow my breathing,
if i calm my pounding heart,
i promise i will listen to you,
to all your *******, start to stop.

and you'll tell me everything,
everything i know and don't.
but i've heard it all before;
tonight is no different from the last.

i swear to god i love you more in death,
i love you more as this fictional corpse,
than i could have ever loved you alive.

and i swear to god you're beautiful.
and i swear to god you're all mine.
but you had a face your mother didn't even love.
i'd have loved you enough for the both of us.

three years is a long time.
a long time for anything.
three years of pain, fear,
more than a bit of shame?
a ******* lifetime.
three years of breathing
freely being a chore and
dreading being alone and
wishing for dreamless sleep?
a ******* lifetime.
hell never gets any colder,
and it never gets any easier.
some days you wish for it to
stop, for it to be your last.
and how do you explain it?
not wanting to be alive and
not wanting to die, not yet?
how do you tell yourself, one
more minute, one more breath?
one more hour, day, week?
you don't, and you can't.
you just keep doing it anyway.
in and out, step by step, on and on.

forever.

he snarls, she sobs
tears really can fall
and they fall like rain

her tender skin
brutalized
her blueblue eyes
close again

same scene
difference nightmare
she’s screaming louder
so hit me, i dare you to

i’ve been down and out
seen the worst, worse than you
hit me, I dare you to
a simple punch, a vicious word
can’t pierce these scars
can’t close these eyes

these broken eyes

kept wide shut
keep the monster away

you're an ***.
and you deserve to be lonely.
and i hate you.
and i  love you.
and i hate to love you.
and i ******* love to hate you.

but you're just a boy.
and i'm just a girl.
and we're just something that never happened.
and we're just a big, ****** up, mistake.
and we're nothing special at all, really.
and we're going to be forgotten.

but i'm just a girl.
and you're just a boy.
and i'm still in love with you.
and i'm hellbent on hating you.
and i'm looking for another you.
and i'm convinced i won't find him.

so you're still an ***.
and i'm still in love.
but i'm heading out.
and i'll find someone.

i woke up this morning with my heart in my chest,
only half-awake, and reached for the phone.
"morning, gawgeous, you awake?"
it's sending.

somewhere between being awake and asleep,
i remembered that's not allowed.
more panic set my arms on fire, i fumbled for the phone.
cancel, jesus. cancel.

i drop the phone, close my eyes, bite my tongue.
try to breathe.
i'm panicking still. i don't even know why anymore.
it certainly couldn't be any worse.

what do you do when you give someone everything,
they take it all, and give it back to you in pieces?
what do you do when you trust someone and they you,
but you find out they kept their own secrets and ideas too?

how do you say, i know what you thought,
when you can't say anything?
how do you say, i'm sorry, please,
when you can't make them hear you?

when do you say, i'm done trusting people,
they always run away?
when do you say, if you came back,
i'd never push you away?

i've made my mistakes, but you knew how i was.
you've made your mistakes, and i forgave you at once.
understanding doesn't mean **** on this side of the fence.
what happened to forever?

i never would've left.
so don't play the line everyone leaves.
because not everyone does.
the rest you push aside.

it's sunday morning,
and i would **** for a chance to drive.
get so far away from here, with you my dear,
that i'll never leave your side.

No matter what I say to you, hear this:
I will never go farther than arm's reach,
I will never go farther than you can push me.
And girls like us, well, our arms only reach so far.
Boys like them, though, their arms never let go.
It feels so right but baby, it's so wrong.
Learn to stand alone,
let him go and find your path,
his open arms will be waiting for you
when you come home.
And so will mine.

No matter what you say, know this:
I can only forget so much, but I can forgive anything.
My resolve weakens under your gaze, I falter at your words.
My kryptonite is none other than your own brand of special poison.
And everyone knows, after all, that the trouble with poison...
Is that it tastes so ******* sweet.

No matter where this goes, know this:
I let you in, you pushed me out, but open doors never close the same again.
You let me in, I walked away, and I know neither of us will be the same again.
Whenever you decide to erase me, I'll still be with you,
in the airwaves we came to love so much.

it was tracks left by fingernails that started it.
teasing moans, broken and hushed.
a slip of skin between shirt and shorts.
a flippant, "you know you want me."
that's what started it.

i pressed a kiss to that special place,
where neck and shoulder meet.
you left your own mark,
nestled between the lines i carved.

it was the twists of our hands that ended it.
it was a whiplash of a cry when it was over.
high and reedy and out of control,
sharp and gorgeous.

it echoed through my blood,
reverberated into my veins.
[in fact, i think it still does.]
my heart pumped in time with yours,
our hips rose and fell,
that's what ended it.
left us both boneless,
left us both shaking,
left the eight ball rolling across the table,
colliding with the last stripe, orange.
[your favorite color.]

"i win," you breathed.
"you spoke to soon," i whispered,
"the eight ball fell first."

oh, and we were so close, too.

Hush, don’t speak.
Pretty far fall, isn’t it?
It’s the risk you take, though.
Common knowledge, that.
I mean it when I said don’t speak.
Don’t ask questions.
Just inhale, exhale.
Rinse and repeated.
Anyway, as I was saying.
That’s the risk you take.
When you throw your self into something, I mean.
When you throw yourself into something so far you can only fall.
Unless someone’s there to catch you.
Because then I suppose it’s a trip.
Why do you look so scared?
I’m not gonna push you.
Not gonna make you do anything you don’t want to do, anyway.
Yeah, once you start falling, there’s no stopping it.
No no no, you can’t back away.
Oh please, we both know you don’t want to.
Because if I don’t want to, you certainly do.
Don’t you?
I knew it.
See?
I’m too smart for you, probably because I am you.
Yeah, you’ve been listening to yourself talk this whole time.
The entire time you’ve been looking over the side of this bridge.
It’s awfully foggy today, but then again, when is it not?
No one would see you if you fell.
No one to chase after you and scream as you fall.
No one to see me nudge you just…a little…closer.
Ha, I saw that.
I got you.
Scared you.
Don’t be scared, really.
You want this as much as I do.
So do it.
Jump.

"with endless love, i left you sleeping."
tonight will be the last night of this.
i will not call out to you again.
this isn't giving up, promise.
this is simply moving on.

"now i'm sleeping with you."
it's a fight to let you go.
but, you must leave.
it's different, now.
am i sorry?

"don't wake up."
i don't know.
hi, jamie.

take me with you.

i'm sinking like a stone in the sea.
i'm burning like a bridge for your body.
it used to be the reason i breathed but now
it's choking me up.
[die young and save yourself.]
she hits the lights- this doesn't seem quite fair.

and we won't let you in.
we don't want what isn't ours.
we won't let you in.
you win,
you win,
you win.

this is the grace that only we can bestow.
this is the price you pay for loss of control.
this is the break in the bend,
this is the closest of calls.

gave up my body and bed, all for an empty hotel.
wasting words on lower cases and capitals.
i lie for only you, and i lie well.
you are second hand smoke; you are so fragile and thin.
standing trial for your sins, holding onto yourself.
[the best you can.]

you are the smell before rain.
you are the blood in my veins.
call me a safe bet. i'm betting I'm not.
i'm glad that you can forgive-
i'm only hoping as time goes, you can forget.

in a car outside, we stalk the idle kind.
if you're leaving, just let me know.
tobacco and peppermint, dusting for fingerprints.
a film in her eyes from the glow.
some rules are made with all intentions to break
[and she defends it with a warped rationale.]

i've got desperate desires and unadmirable plans, and
my tongue will taste of gin and malicious intent.
if i could i would shrink myself and
sink through your skin to your blood cells and
remove whatever makes you hurt but
i am too weak to be your cure.

i'll speak my mind whenever I feel slighted.
i am hellbent on extracting all of my revenge.
take heart, sweetheart, or i will take it from you.
i spoke the words but never gave a thought to what they all could mean.

i know that this is what you want; a funeral keeps both of us apart.
you know that you are not alone.
need you like water in my lungs.
this is the end.

i'm concentrating on falling apart.
we were contenders, but we're still throwing the fight.
but i just wanna believe, i just wanted to believe,
i just won't believe, in us.

because there's a lump in my throat,
and i'd rather it be cancer than tears.
because there are tears in my eyes,
but i'd rather go blind than cry for you.

and then there's this portion of my heart,
it beats faster than the others, you see.
but i'd rather it be a defect than be from you,
and all of our talked about, moonlit dreams.

there are walls around my heart,
locked doors inside my head.
i'd rather choke on the key,
than hand it over again.

oh, we're so c-c-c-c-c-controversial.
and i know we loved it, fed on it.
we would've bathed in it,
given the chance.

we are entirely smooth.
slick with tears, [and blood, too]
we admit to the truth.
we are the best at what we do.

tell me, what did we do?
what did we do to deserve such a mess?
thrown together and pulled apart,
we are the most vile of verbal arts.

after all, these are our words.
we wish we wrote them down,
but they'll have to do for awhile.
at least until we figure us out.

this is the way you wish your voice sounds,
at two in the morning, or hell, even six.
this is the way we wish we could say:
****, i love you. don't let us melt away.

we're the kids who keep on quitting.
we're the ones living our lives running.
we **** the threat of smoke with the smell of *** [on our breath].

we're the kids with the blinding smiles.
we're the ones on the late news at eleven.
we **** the threat of a future with the promise of tonight, tonight.

we're the kids who do it for love.
we're the ones making history tonight.
we **** the threat of growing up with the first and last sip of the night.

we're the kids with the pretty eyes.
we're the ones with the broken smiles.
we **** the threat of regret with the scars on our hands, faces, legs.

we're the kids with too-big pupils.
we're the ones with the hyena laughter.
we **** the threat of misunderstanding by not being able to speak.

we're the kids who'll make the difference.
we're the ones you'll remember.
we **** the threat of losing ourselves by giving it up [with one ****].

there will be a day
when the sky will darken and
the clouds will gather and
i will take your hand in mine and
the thunder will rumble and
the lighting will strike and
the clouds will open up and
the rain will pour down and
we will laugh together and
w will run together and
our hair will be ruined and
we won’t care and
we’ll play in the puddles and
we’ll forget we’re too old for that and
our hearts will open up together and
we will finally know who we are meant to be

yes, let’s.
let’s never.
never again.
again, please.
please, let’s.
let’s not.
not ever.
ever again.
again, yes.

Do you remember the late nights, street lights?
I remember- forever days, sun rays.
Feeling scared, acting brave, disregarding all the rules.
Fleeting glances, heartbeat trances, impromptu dances.
Every minute was a cherished gift- it’s pitiful, isn’t it?
Rarely have I felt, never have I felt, finally have I felt.
Ever after, nevermore, what was found has now been lost.
New girl? New feelings, new changes, no reasons.
Crying out to understand, that’s all I want- to understand.
Exceptions made to all the rules, where is my friend?
Silence makes friendships drown, so hurry up- rescue us now.

They are strangers now, swinging back and forth.
There are no fireworks, not of the romantic kind.
They are simply strangers, at a park.

One is a daredevil, one is shy;
One likes the merry-go-round, and the other? The swings.

If stars could talk, they’d prophesize such a love story.

In the beginning, she was running, and he was chasing.
At the ending, he was laughing, but she was crying.

In the beginning, there aren’t many words.
Just tickles, and shouts, and blushing cheeks.
Rips in shorts, grass stains on shirts. Promises, too.
Promises of, “If you won’t tell my mom, I won’t tell yours.”

At the ending, close to the ending, she is tired.
So he pushes her on the swing, makes her laugh.
And then he makes her fall.

So she pushes him around and around,
around and around on the merry-go-round.
And when she doesn’t stop, when he falls,
he calls her a name she’s never heard of.

“You’re nothing but a bully,”
followed with, “Well, you’re…
you’re nothing but a *****.”

You’re nothing, she hears. You’re nothing but a *****.
You’re nothing, he hears. You’re nothing but a bully.
“How do you know that word?” As they walk, side by side.

“My dad calls my mom that on Saturday nights,”
as they walk, hand in dirt-covered hand.
“At least I didn’t swing a bottle at you.”

They are strangers now, separated by their worlds and walls.
There is no chemistry, no spark, nothing special.
They are simply strangers, sharing a couch.

One is autumn, one is spring;
one likes talking, and the other? Listening.

If walls could talk, they’d weave a tale so tragic.

In the beginning, he was sun, and she was moon.
At the ending, she was running, but he was leaving.

In the beginning, there are many things.
There is music, and laughter, and broken strings.
They have cooperation, and commitment, and promises.
Her mom gives them glasses, his mom gives them dishes.
She has her charcoals, he has his guitar.

At the ending, close to the ending-
There is his guitar, her laughter, they’ve broken things.
And that is all that is left.

Promises and glasses, dishes and hearts.
A year of trying and losing is written on the walls;
the wallpaper- peeling, the curtains- ripping.

He clears his throat, she stills- hoping.
“I’m sorry,” she hears, and it’s okay.
“I’m sorry,” she hears, “that it’s ended this way.”

I’m sorry, she hears. I’m sorry, that it’s ended this way.
I’m sorry, she hears. That it’s ended this way.

“It’s ended this way?”
“I’m ending it this way.”

The tears she cried beneath a twinkling blue-black
Sky shone with a light of hidden silver.

The blade of the knife he drew across her thigh
Instilled in her a fear, mixed in blood and silver.

Violence forces humility, she‘s guilty.
The big bad wolf has teeth of steel, of silver.

The March moon spills shadows tonight, no light.
Behind the clouds the moon will hide, tonight there is no light of silver.

After this, her every night will be spent in hiding.
She doesn’t trust the moon anymore, stays away from its light of silver.

Sarah knows these can’t be her golden years.
These years are at best a tarnished silver.

She asked me to tell her story for you all today.
I wanted to say no, but how do you say no to a dead girl?
I didn’t think you could, either.
So here I am.

But I've been thinking- we all know her story.
You’ve been fed her story by her caring, devoted parents.
So I’m going to tell you my story.

I was with her every step of the way.
[Except when it mattered, except for at the end.]
I was there when her caring, devoted parents called her a liar,
called her a thief, and called her a ****.
[Then lovingly announced it was a character building exercise. ]

I was there when instead of getting help for their daughter
as she repeatedly cut and destroyed her body,
they praised her, bought her new razorblades,
picked up her various painkillers.

Oh yes, her parents are real gems,
ladies and gentlemen.
They were very involved in Jamie’s life.
Always made sure she had
everything she wanted.

You know what?
They spoiled her to death.

Oh, too soon for suicide humor?
My apologies. I guess I’m bitter.
The last thing I need to say is,
Jamie wanted me to thank you all.

She wanted to thank you all for letting her go.

but i'm breathing better than i have in days.
and sleeping better than i have in weeks.

i know who my friends i are, and i know
who they certainly are not.

i carry no guilt, i carry no shame.
the mistakes i've made do not define me,
and i can sleep well at night knowing i live honestly.

i will dance badly whenever the mood strikes me,
because i've got people who will love me still.
i will sing loudly whenever the mood strikes me,
because i've got people who will love me still.

if this is happiness, i will carry it forever.
because this is having sadness, but not being sad,
having fear, but not being scared,
having shame, but not being ashamed.
this is having loved, being loved, loving in the future,
and loving in the past, all at the same time.

this is missing her, and missing her, too,
but not thinking about it unless i mean to.
this is grieving and being angry, but not so much
grief-stricken and furious.

this is losing, and having lost, and knowing i will lose,
but holding on and keeping it around,
because i know how i felt and how i feel,
and i know how you felt too.

this is how i feel, tonight, and i think
this might be what everyone looks for
when they peek around corners or
jump in front of closed elevator doors.

i always knew you didn't trust me.
i knew you had a secret agenda,
you secret agent you.

i love[d] you more than anyone.
anyone.
i trusted you the most.
ever.

when january rolled around, he was obsolete.
it's you, it's you, it's always been you.
you never let me explain; you don't want to hear.
but it's got to go somewhere, so.
here it goes.

i walked into a life i wasn't welcome in.
i didn't want you to fight for me.
i didn't belong, all my prescence did was cause chaos.
i was always ******* something up for you.

you were his, not mine, and it tore me up inside.
but i didn't want to do a **** thing that could...
take you from him. from your happiness.
take you from being content without being lonely.

to never make you smile, laugh, everything, was...
more punishment i ever thought i could take.
even worse? being the cause of your unhappiness.
i was always ******* something up for you.

you see, without me? without you fighting for me?
there wouldn't have been the fighting, that shower scene.
i never wanted you to fight for me.

you know i did what i did because i was batshit in love with you.
you know i did it because i didn't care about him, i cared about you.
unfortunately, that came at a price.
the biggest price i've had to pay, really.
i did it to keep you happy.

i didn't want to do or say anything that would...
[make you see your boy in a different light]
**** something else up for you.

i risked everything for you.
i gave up everything,
i gave up you,
for you.

one day, i'll beg.
i'll beg every god i know,
especially the ones i don't believe in.

i'll wish on every dandelion, every star,
to not have done what i did,
to have a second chance.

i've never begged for anyone,
i've never wished for anyone.
not even him.

so you see? it was never him.
it was always you. it's you, it's you.
it's always been you.

honesty may be the best policy,
but you know i'm always looking for a better way.
you know i'm always looking out for you.
i tried, anyway. there wasn't anything i could do
that he hadn't already done.

i wish i could say this was over,
and i was done,
but i can't give you up like i gave him up.

my epitaph will always read,
"she was my only."

insomnia.
rapid heartbeat.
fever and chills.
breathlessness.
inability to concentrate.
loss of apetite.

i'm sure you knew what you did to me.
i'm sure you know i gave you all i had.
you made me sick, in all the best ways.
you were a disease worth dying from.
you did your job, tore me apart.
now stay the **** away and let me heal.

ah, sweet amnesia.

the lights are dim, the sun is setting
a glass of wine, half-empty
casts a lonely shadow on the wall

a clock is ticking
a solemn reminder
of how time keeps running
even if we think we’re running
out

i'm not sure i know your name yet.
and if i do, i probably won't realize it for awhile.
but thank you, whoever you are,
for giving me my favorite memory.

i'm sure it's beautiful.
and meaningful, too.
i wonder if it's sunset or midnight,
or maybe the day has just begun.

perhaps the sky is cloudless,
or maybe there's a storm rolling in.
maybe it's november, and the leaves are falling down.
or maybe august, when the air is heavy and the heat is solid.

maybe you're someone from my past,
or maybe you're someone from my future.
hell, you could even be someone from my present.
but i kind of refuse to really, truly believe that.

just like i kind of refuse to really, truly believe
that i'll run across the type of love i see in the eyes of my friends.
just like the type of love i used to see in the eyes of another,
just like the type of love i would like to see again.

i guess what i'm trying to say is i don't have a favorite memory.
my favorite memories have been stained and tainted.
i'm terrified to make more. so what i guess i'm saying is,
stay away from me, whoever you are. i don't want your memory.

nothing golden can shine forever.

invitation, then concession
it’s the same old song and dance
we’re playing it louder and faster
louder and faster than ever before
like moths to a flame
we’re cheek to cheek
chest to chest
skin on skin
with no room to breathe
but that’s how we like it

3 years is a long time. a long time for anything. 3 years of pain and fear and more than a touch of shame is a ******* lifetime. 3 years of breathing freely being a chore, dreading being alone, and wishing constantly for a dreamless sleep is hell. it never gets easy, only easier, and some days you wish for it to be your last. how do you explain not wanting to be alive, but not wanting to die? how do you tell yourself, one more breath? one more hour, one more day? you don't. you just keep going anyway. forever.

every single word you say weighs more than i can take.
every single phrase is laced with poison.
every question mark, exclamation point, semicolon? razor blades.

and i've never been the strong one.
that always fell on your shoulders.
and i've never been one to pick at scabs.
i hate the mess.

so i'll just lay here, and bleed all over your floor.
your favorite color is red,
and i know you like me dead.
so i'm doing you a favor, really.

you're welcome.

play them like a game
and very quickly you will find
that there's really nothing
to worry about.

so take a hand and lead
them into the dark.
where monsters hide and
the light does nothing
but make shadows dance.

then you'll be forced to remember
that you are nothing but bones
nothing but bones and dust.