An amature artist paints on her face.
Each stroke of the brush is another mistake.
Her natural beauty's concealed away
beneath a thick mess of dark colored paint.

Masked and hidden,
Tucked away and unknown.
Her pain is unseen by the smile painted on.

The thoughts of suicide
and all of her fears
are displayed in a battle between paint and tears.

So she starts all over,
every day.
To try to forget all of her mistakes.
One pat for the failure.
One stroke for the ****.
One sweep for the talent she lets go to waste.

Blends it all together.
Pretends she's okay.
The piece is now ready to be displayed.

He finished the painting yesterday noon. Now
he studies it in detail. He has painted him in a
gray unbuttoned coat, a deep gray; without
any vest or any tie. With a rose-colored shirt;
open at the collar, so something might be seen
also of the beauty of his chest, of his neck.
The right temple is almost entirely
covered by his hair, his beautiful hair
(parted in the manner he perfers it this year).
There is the completely voluptuous tone
he wanted to put into it when he was doing the eyes,
when he was doing the lips.... His mouth, the lips
that are made for consummation, for choice love-making.

You were under my skin,
so i tried cutting You out;
now all i'm left with are
hand-me-down bandages
and something for the pain.

it has been seven months since my ****.
it has been seven months since my ****.

every day, it gets worse.
every day and those after, i am once again told,
“it’s your fault”
i know, every day,
that they are not wrong.

it has been seven months since my ****.
it has been seven months since my ****.

every day and those after,
i lose myself,
more and more.
i’m rotting and
disgusting.
i am lost
and i am scared.

it has been seven months since my ****.
it has been seven months since my ****.

every day and those after,
i am reminded.
“he felt more anxiety than you ever will,”
she says,
“they left him waiting, thinking his life was over,
for an entire weekend.”
a weekend? ha, amature.
i’ve been knowing.
my life is over, and has been
for seven months.
he got off free,
i got a life sentence.

it has been seven months since my ****.
it has been seven months since my ****.

be careful- don’t forget!!
he is not a ******,
you are not a victim.
he’s just a boy,
in the moment.
you know how they are.

it has been seven months since my ****.
it has been seven months since my ****.

maybe i’m just lying.
what if i’m wrong?
and i’m just
a product of what has already happened to me?
since it is my fault,
since i still don’t know how to take accountability,
maybe it’s not even real.

it has been seven months since my ****.
it has been seven months since my ****.

in church, they talk about ****** purity.
am i going to hell for this?

it has been seven months since my ****.
it has been seven months since my ****.

his hands are still all over me.
all
over
me.
i tried to scrub it all away,
the flesh came off my body.
he still found a way
to write his name
on
my bones.

it has been seven months since my ****.
it has been seven months since my ****.

i can’t look in the mirror anymore.
it’s never me.
every time i look,
it’s always someone new.
a grotesque figure.
i can’t stand to see myself.

it has been seven months since my ****.
it has been seven months since my ****.

my face often becomes numb.
i throw my hands under boiling water and still feel
nothing.

seven months.
that’s
212 days,
5088 hours.
i don’t know who i am
anymore.

Hey,
Do you see it?
I do..
I see my future flash before my eyes, as I look at you.
I feel my heart pound through my chest
As if it craves to be one with you
Hey, can you feel it?
Because I most certainly do.

Our pupils met at 90 degrees
We exchanged hands to shake
But before all that happened
You were just a rumor in my life
Later evolved to become a crush
Little did I know about "love at first sight"

An opportunity to meet you came
I wouldn't let it escape ,
I grasped it with my amature hands
Hoping for the best because
I hardly knew you
And disappointed was not the emotion I wanted to feel at the end

Our pupils met at 90 degrees
We exchanged hands to shake
But before all that happened
You were just a rumor in my life
Later evolved to become a crush
Little did I know about "love at first sight"

Your laughter promised so much to my heart
Promised to bring a smile to my face daily
Promised me that i'd be hearing it  more often
Promises don't last

But I realized that too late
Too little too late
It only took me 3 seconds to notice you
And 3 months to know that promises don't last that long

Guess we passed the friendship cycle
You know, "strangers - friends - lovers - break up -"
Now we are back to being strangers

Thought we'd be family soon
But guess I drove past too fast to the finish line  
I needed a reality check.  
Friends we were
Lovers we became
And Strangers we chose to be
After all its life right

It all started like this...

Our pupils meet at 90 degrees
We exchanged hands to shake
But before all that happened
You were just a rumor in my life
Later evolved to become a crush
Little did I know about "love at first sight"

You know you were abusive right?
Honestly worse than your father
You strangled me with words
And left me riddled with questions and scars
Now the scars I applied myself
I had to create some physical evidence
Of the torture you left
And speaking of leaving
You left me
Which I'm happy to say
No longer distresses me
Even though you still won't adress me
Apparently
You go mute when I try to speak
Nontheless
I am no longer obessesing
But sadly
You learned to obess over me
It's obvious you started watching me
Amature
Cover your trail
You're immaturity makes your frail
But you were abusive
Though not anymore more
I finally have picked myself up from the floor
You see
I found the good in goodbye
And I don't crave you anymore
So goodbye abuser
And Thank you
For leaving me once more

what does it mean?
what does it ever measure up to?
most of the time,
Nothing.

what have you done
in the name of love
it's name is *****
i dare not speak it
not worth the breath needed to say it

here comes the snake
slithering up your arm
waiting to sink its teeth into you
it's name?
love

so what would you do
in the name of love

its a sickness
i am the cure
we all are
it survives off of amature intentions
its all a lie

choke the snake
and let something real grow in its place
something real...
that would be nice

Shadows scurry past.
As the darkness attempts to engulf my small circle of light that surrounds me.
The light is warm, comforting, and fills my body with a soft peacefulness. A calming hum of energy.
I close my eyes and focus on the delicate feeling the light brings.
Trying to block out the movie that keeps skipping in my mind repeating the same worn out scenes over and over again.
The words have begun to jumble together.
And the collection of many different scenes begin to blend together crudely in this amature film of self torture.
Every little piece I had cut out of my life tape and shoved to the deepest crevice of my mind, shoved into a box, wrapped it in chains and threw away the key have now broken free of their confinement.
And trapped me in a similar cage.
I am now a prisoner to every sin I've commited and every horrid event I wasn't strong enough to stop.
Trapped in my conciousness my physical being paralyzed in fright and my soul slowly being shattered with each reminded of the past.
I'm unable to stop the tape but able to pause it for brief moments.
Only for a loud, sudden sound, the feeling of goosebumps on the back of my neck, my love grabbing my hand, whispering in my ear, or touching the skin under my clothes to hit the play button again. But maybe, just maybe, if I hold onto the light I can escape.

If it's even possible to escape ones own mind.

staring at the stars,
I've never felt so small.
I realize that the universe is so incredibly huge,
that nothing in it matters at all.

anything that I will ever do
will eventually be forgotten,
so it doesn't really matter
what sort of trouble I get caught in.

I know it matters to my parents
that I graduate this year,
but I'm starting what I want to do
by posting my amature poems here.

I'm sharing my thoughts with strangers,
and trying to make them rhyme,
but like I mentioned earlier,
my words will all be forgotten with time.

but that's not going to stop me
from trying to become a "writer",
I can do this from my bedroom,
it makes my heart feel a little lighter.

I'm just trying to find my place,
I'm trying to be happy.
I'm feeling a bit of grace
even if these poems are ****** :P