when you hear your alarm go off the first time,
and then the second time,
and the third you finally open your eyes to
find yourself surrounded by the same four walls as yesterday -
it's okay if you press snooze again.
it's okay to go back to bed today.

but you don't.

when you're putting on your mascara,
and then your eyeliner,
and all the other crap that makes you feel pretty -
it's okay if you cry it all off.
it's okay to go back to bed today.

but you don't.

when you're putting on your favourite jeans,
and your comfy sweater,
and they just don't fit the same as they used to
because you're not the same as you once were -
it's okay to try something different.
it's also okay to just go back to bed today.

but you don't.

when you're walking down the hallway to your first class,
and then your second one and it's all just as dreadful,
and you can't concentrate on anything other than
just picking up one foot after the other, just getting there -
it's okay to just be present physically for today, if that's all you can manage.
but maybe, it would be okay if you just went back to bed today.

but you don't.

when you get home and your mom calls you for dinner,
once, twice, and three times,
but you're just not hungry and you're not sure you can
keep up the stone face you've been wearing all day -
it's okay to ask her to save some for you to have later.
just go back to bed, just give yourself some room to breathe.

but  you don't.

every day, you fight the same battle.
and if it feels like you're not making any progress,
just remember that you didn't go back to bed -
and you could have -

**but you didn't.

The first time a blade danced across my skin,
blood dripping from my open wounds like stagnant springwater,
a pain that I can mark as real, as consistent, as constant,
a promise of friendship stained a deep red,
I fell in love with self-mutilation.
The first time I skipped a meal,
first time I saw the thin frame of a girl all skin and bones,
all pointed curves and sharp edges,
I fell in love with self-destruction.
The first time I tasted nicotine on my teeth,
ash dropping to the floor and crumbling,
my demons lit up with my lighter
I fell in love with the taste of what I knew would **** me.
The first time I skipped my stomach meds,
later that night, I threw up everything good I thought about myself,
and I fell in love with self-hatred.
When I was taken off of Prozac,
I sobbed because he was my best friend who made me
so much ******* worse and I loved every second of it.
The first (and only) time I attempted suicide,
saw the innermost layers of my own skin
dripping with adrenaline and fear,
I fell in love with the bleak hospital walls
as I lied in a bed, watching this ****** poking and prodding at my arm,
stitching my pain silent-
no, no, don't- just let me die here, ******!
let me slice myself into oblivion,
it's not like anybody would miss me, anyway.
The first time I slept with a man,
a 27 year old,
the man who felt like a better father than the man I called "dad",
who was there when nothing else was but my razor,
I was 11, and I didn't realise what it meant
to give yourself to somebody so completely.
All I knew was that I was in love with him,
and that an experienced, older man
meant that *** felt really ******* good.
I presume that was when I fell in love
with the physical aspect of relationships
and for a long time, those physical aspects were all I saw.
The first time I penned my frustrations and hate,
raw and naked and painful,
in the form of an apologetic suicide letter,
I fell in love with the way I could romanticise pain.
I must have a notebook full of those by now.
but the first time I saw you...
I fell in love with the way you could silence my hate
without lifting a finger,
your stormy grey eyes that recognised I was seen and heard by everyone but myself,
your arm that I could grab onto so easily
because I knew in some way that it could stop me from falling to my demise,
your voice that could drown out all of my demons that swim around
in my mind,
that for the longest time have been trying to **** me,
I fell in love with you.
I fell in love with the honesty I found in you,
with the cold fingers that interlaced with mine perfectly,
the way my head fits on your shoulder.
I fell in love with the way you stood by my side
and pulled out your own rusted sword,
said, "I'll fight with you."
The suffering was definitely worth the reward
when it comes to what us being together put people through.
You've seen almost every side of me,
you've seen me consumed by hatred,
anger, rage, laughter, fear, joy, love,
slit wristless and bare skinned,
and yet, you stay.
You've got a few parts of a soul,
I've got a few pieces of a heart...
Let's make eachother whole.

Come dance with my ghost
Pull the trigger
And dance with me
I don’t want to haunt you
I don’t want to be alone anymore
I left you
Now don’t let me leave your mind
My life is ended
But yours is just beginning
Why

My beloved, believe me when I say you are beautiful
Like how I do whenever you whisper the same to me
We are beautiful, and our love is as beautiful as the word's best definition could ever be
There is beauty in the way our eyes resemble hopeful sunrises
As we gaze into the hollows of each other's soul
In the way our softest kisses spark the most brilliant fireworks in the firmament
In the way the intertwining of our fingers
Commence a massive stampede in the still jungles of our hearts
We are beautiful, my love, we truly are
But we are beautiful stars tremendously shining that cannot be in the same constellation
Our lips are the dulcet melody of an orchestra but the composer wrote us in different music sheets
We are both pieces of a magnificient puzzle but not adjacent ones; our edges do not coincide
Beautiful is how we worship the same sun and perform parallel rituals
Though I realized that we are but ethereal planets bound to our own inescapable orbits
Our corporal entities are home to various innumerable celestial bodies
I have enough proof to say we are galaxies with feet in this incessantly expanding universe
Listen to me love, when I say you are beautiful and so am I
Heed me when I say we are beautiful but we must face the reality
We are as beautiful as we could ever be but our proximity does not yield the same result
Remember that every sunrise will set at a certain time of a wonderful day
That no fireworks display are tattooed on the sky's flesh
That no explosion of resplendent colors remain, that it is a fireworks' nature to disintegrate
And the aftermath of stampedes is just unimaginable
I may not be an astronomer but I have witnessed each of us turn to neutron stars
And two neutron stars cannot occupy the same space, especially collide
The composer's judgment cannot be questioned
For the composer knows the best music shall be produced if we are not played simultaneously
There's a reason why the planets are crafted as they are, why galaxies must stand alone
So for the last time, I will tell you, that you are beautiful my love
You are beautiful as you are, and yes, the same applies to me
Our love is beautiful, as beautiful as its best definition could ever be
But there are things we cannot change, things that we cannot control
Perhaps we can be try to be beautiful together in the next eternity

Rise from smoldering ashes, bring forth new life in a outward burst of flame, and holy cleansing fire. Like the phoenix, I have been given another chance to live again; You to can rise from the ashes of a world that is too clouded to see, take my hand, and begin to fade until there is only an ember glowing among ash, and erupt into a fiery flash blinding all who witness becoming a new you rekindling the flame of life, and beginning again. You have done to me what I cannot thank you enough for. You have given me a reason to rise from these ashes, I will in turn give you a reason to rise from your own ashes, or I will burn out with you.

They say a full moon can make a person do crazy things. I still don’t know if that’s true; the full moon was last week and, though I can still see it’s shine in your stormy grey eyes, I know it can’t be the reason I have this feeling stuck in my gut telling me to (kiss you) just live.

If you ever go to war with me
just be aware that I'd
more likely run away
than confront my fears,
my anger,
or fight
{in any case, I would direct it on myself}.
I'm embittered by too much fighting,
I've been a veteran of too much
Tragedy.

So when you start a war,
please do not use bullet-coated words,
or arrows of logic,
or cold stone truths.

Only, look me in the eye,
smother me in love,
**** me with kindness,
And I will surrender
gladly.