pins start to tingle the edges of my fingertips
whispering to me
advising me to give in
the urge is stronger than me
razors
pills
alcohol
drugs
***

all of these things i have learned to be dependent on in the past year

none of them have been my home

I had fallen in love with the one self destructive home I had

and he left

I've been keeping my hair short
Because you liked it long,
And I'm not strong enough
To relive the feeling I got
When you ran your hands through it.

So I'll continue to cut off
The ends that are dead
Because you are too
And it makes me feel closer to you
Somehow.

You never used to inspire me to write.
When I met you, I wished so badly that my writer's block would disappear and I could compose a poem of all the feelings I had for you.
But you know what they say,
Be careful what you wish for.
Because now I can't stop.

Now, the thought of you is so inspiring that all I want to do is write and write and write and write and write and write and write.
Your gorgeous tan skin and bright blue-green eyes force my fingers on the keys to keep going, until my nails are broken and my fingertips are raw.

You never used to make me feel creative.
What happened?

I fell in love.
I dove into the lake of love, heart first,
not realizing that I would never escape it.
I didn't want to escape the canal boat floating down the river of devotion so smoothly.

I should've gotten out when I could.

Little did I know that a shark lingered in that river.
A Great White Shark, ready to lunge at my exposed heart, that rested on my sleeve.
Although what I realize now is,
Sharks only live in the ocean.
The stinging pain in my chest isn't an aquatic beast.
It's love itself,
Trying to rip my heart from my chest and tear it to pieces, before my very eyes.

Love.
The destructive force that tricked me into falling for its lies.
Its promises of joy and happiness,
devotion and fondness.
The infatuation and lust that love guaranteed was all a ploy.
A ploy to catch me in its web, waiting for the spider itself to eat me alive.

You never used to inspire me to write.
But now you're my muse.
I wish I was smarter than this.
I wish I didn't fall in love with your kind heart and your gentle soul.
But remember, be careful what you wish for.
Because maybe, if I hadn't wished in the first place,
My heart wouldn't be so heavy,
And my hands wouldn't be numb from writing endless insignificant love letters to you.

I once met a boy who put his hand on my thigh as he asked for my name. and upon learning it, pressed his lips to mine. naive and foolish, I believed this to be what the people called "love." and I went willingly.

I once met a boy who told me he loved me the day he met me. he swore it was true. realizing that this must be what the people called "love"
I went willingly

I once met a boy who sang songs out of tune and danced with me in the rain. he played music with dandelion fingers. I was awe-struck. disregarding future pain, I closed my eyes and the door.
and I went willingly.

I once met a boy with broken hands who smelled of cigarettes and regret. he plucked his guitar strings and I imagined them to be straps and ties of my clothing. with each note he played, more of my skin touched the cold air. by the end of his song, I'd written this poem.

(e.s.s.)