massacring mood for jokes
little bells during months
symbolize the whims
the bed displayed
he decided the last thing
he would ever do for her
he reached the limits of his patience
within a few hours that bed
dedicated a second time
he insisted on photographing
imagined hypocrisy
and loose women

I cannot say I don't miss you  
in hushed tones of violet  
I cannot say I don't miss your  
rapid hands that wrapped  
around my fragile neck  
I cannot say I don't miss  
Your yellow mark bruises  
That washed against my skin
I cannot say I don't miss the  
violence that escaped your mouth
and found your way to your fists  
that brushed against my skin
on my legs, on my arms
on my face it found its place
Everywhere on my fragile body
that consisted of the words  
“she belongs to me”
I do not miss the hits that  
found their way to my once  
Unscratched face  
but somehow, I let you into  
my fragile life and you made  
a bruise out of me

I could write a
thousand poems
about you and me
but they'll never
bring you back

why don't you weigh less
why aren't you pretty enough
why do you look so manly
why aren't you looking like a girl
thoughts like these run through our heads
we tear the foundations are bodies have built
peel back the cement that holds our walls
so that were naked to a vulnerable state
of wanting more than what our bodies can offer
to the home I stand on that I've learned not to love
to the home I've broken windows to
to prevent home invasion from words that I say
to myself
I hate you
to have this body that seeks the comfort of me
only to get betrayal from the person she seeks
the very comfort of
I'm sorry I don't call you home enough
I'm sorry I'm not the person to obtain a body of such
I love you even though sometimes
I dont show that you are home

I had long hair
I cut it so you
wouldn't stare
at the sight you
had me cut

I regret being with you
and I can't wait to look
you in those ugly blue eyes
and tell you how worthless
you are to me

where is the sunset
and when did it come