In autumn I found a boy
Who asked me to love him
And said I love you
Only after a party and a few drinks
I was laying in bed
And told my friends about him
They said I hope you're happy
They knew I wasn't

In winter I kissed a boy
Who tasted like alcohol and said
I love you all the time but
He hurt himself whenever I made mistakes
He threatened to leave me if
I didn't do what he said
My friends watched me
They said stay away from him

In spring I spent time with a boy
Who told me it was his way or no way
And when I challenged that
He told me
I love you and that's why I'm doing this
My friends saw the cuts and bruises
They gripped my wrists while I said
I deserve him

In summer I wanted no one at all
And when he walked into my life
I didn't expect to fall
But he kisses like the devil
While keeping all my demons away
My friends held my gaze and told me
Keep him and
Stay

(m.w)

It’s been a year
The clock strikes midnight
And its been a year
But this isn’t Cinderella
Or another stupid fairytale
Because it’s been a year
Since anyone has loved you
Or at least pretended they did
There have been people
Who have itched to touch you
Feel your skin under their hands
Sure,
But in the end
You’re left without being desired
For anything more than your body
Maybe it’s easier to make-believe the passion
For romance
But all of the endings are the same
Crying yourself to sleep is your
Happily ever after

I don't need these stupid thoughts you've left littered in my head
I don't need the reminders that you're no longer in my bed
I don't need your love, things will never be the same,
I don't need you any more, so take it all right to the flame

I met a genius on the train
today
about 6 years old,
he sat beside me
and as the train
ran down along the coast
we came to the ocean
and then he looked at me
and said,
it's not pretty.

it was the first time I'd
realized
that.

We cannot take
a good, hard look
at ourselves
without help;
our own perception
a fun-house mirror,
twisting our foibles
into grotesques.
We become too big,
thinking we loom large
in the lives of others
who could not care less,
or we shrink into nothing,
disappearing from those
who miss us dearly.
Judge, jury and executioner,
we condemn ourselves
as not worthy of the air we breathe.
We cannot take
a good, hard look
at ourselves.
The look is rarely good,
and often far,
far too hard.

I carry a notepad:  
                                    Not to
                                    Bullet point
                                    Out
                                                            My existence.

But to document;     Resilience.

I feel jealous that I wasn't there to grow up with you, in the rain. The matchboxes I used to play doll house burst yesterday night and it rained my entire face, wet pillows weeping over my loss. You haven't seen those match boxes but did you feel the rain under the city?