when i don’t have the right words to say,
or i choke them back in fear:
i flirt with you in german,
pretending you understand that:

“mir fehlen die worte.”
“ich mӧchte mit dir zusammen sein.”
“du machst mich so glücklich.”
“solang ich weiß, dass alles bei dir gut ist, ist es gut bei mir.”

i know you probably already assume
that i have feelings for you.
but, in german i know i can be honest with you.

and i think this about sums it up:

“ich mag dich wirklich: ich hoffe du kennst kein deutsch.”

How he tells her he loves her
Yet lies with another
Sad, sad lover
I see right through that cover

i used to be afraid of storm clouds and lightning strikes,
i used to hide away when the gray came along the edge of the horizon,
its gaping mouth eating the world below it;
a thunderstorm.
i used to fear the very weather that lived inside my head,
a constant brewing thunderstorm
that never left.
i'd fight with it,
pretending i was some kind of weatherman with a power to stop the incoming tragedy.

i was too slow.

and now the storm has taken all the things i thought were beautiful,
the storm swept love,
guilt,
empathy.
now i sit and feel empty,
because along with my emotions,
the storm took me.

i've been told some things about me are not right.
and i believe it.
i've been told i was not worthy of life.


and i believe it.

i've taken apart and put back together
the people who left me in life.
i keep their mistakes in a cage of my mind,
reminding myself to be weary of it.
i keep their positive thoughts in the spot of my heart
that regardless of how awful they were, they'll stay.
and i pray one day they notice they've always been with me;
that i will always listen.

i've written suicide notes on my birthdays.
i've calculated my best options and i've stressed myself out for it.
because i do not want to **** myself;
sometimes, i feel like i need to.
i've burnt the skin off of my body with a bar of soap,
and i've cut myself with plastic combs
do not tell me self harm is done with a razor or a cigarette,
because i've done far worse than that.
i don't tell anyone unless they ask.
and even then i keep the worst parts to myself.

i have done things i regret.
there isn't much to say about it without sounding selfish,
the things i've done were my fault,
they were never anybody else's.
i regret the things i did in the past,
though i wonder if i'm still worthy of friendship.
relationships never last.
we're hurting people, and calling it love, don't tell me the person you're with is your soulmate because someone better may come along
and take them away.
that's what i think to myself when i feel like i want someone.

i don't believe in love.
i grew up on not thinking anyone would ever love me.
when i was thirteen,
i was begging for the affection i wish i'd kept savory
from the man who held my hand, and taught me how to ride my bike.
they say your father is your soulmate,
but, i don't think he loves me.
my friends all had boyfriends in the fifth grade,
and i was admiring everyone else, wondering if there was a single person out there who thought of me the same way i thought of cold pasta at nine o'clock at night.
golden.

i've been told some things about me are not right.
and i believe it.
i've been told i was not worthy of life.


and i believe it.