for someone who talks a lot of **** about dying,
i don't wanna die.
if anything i am absolutely terrified of the future but i am even more so afraid of death.
i want to be able to live my life, more so than i am right now. i want to be able to say "wow i really did that huh" or "wow, i really did that?".
no regrets for things left undone.
no, im quite content with shaking hands with death on my terms, not his.
but
when i do finally ******* die, i want my body to be laid to rest in the forest. i want moss to reclaim my skin, and seeds to burrow themselves deep within my chest, my organs fodder for the local wildlife. i want something pure and good to inhabit my heart, purge it of the impurities forced upon it. i want my decaying flesh to blossom once more into something beautiful, letting me give back to the earth even in death

Let me begin by saying that
this is not me asking you out.

This is me telling you,
and countless others on the internet,
that I think you're a really great person.

You are an incredibly kind person,
and honestly, I'm surprised that my *******-ish
ways haven't scared you off by now.

Now see, the thing is that
when I first saw you
I asked my friend who you were and
she called you "Reddit Man"
to which I scoffed,
because it sounded like you were a off brand superhero.

On the next day I saw you again,
I did that stupid thing
where I slid up to where you were sitting
and the words
"So I hear you like Dungeons and Dragons."
fell clumsily out of my mouth and I
I turned red because that is not what I wanted to say.

It has been approximately forty-three days
since those stupid words clumsily fell out of my mouth
and we haven't talked about DnD since.
We have, however, talked about Reddit,
Jake Hill,
suicide,
alcoholism,
stalkerish 14-year-old girls,
crazy exes,
waluigi not being in smash,
and dogs vs cats,
among other things.


Its been about two months
and somehow,
even when I stole courage
from the burning sensation in my throat when I sip on liquid fire,
I still have not said a word to you about how I feel.

I wonder if maybe it was obvious,
in the way I talked to you,
about you.
or in the way I blushed when I so much as brushed up against you in line during lunch, or in the way I laughed at all your jokes, as if everything you say is humorous.

Let me reiterate the fact that
I am not writing this to ask you out.

But to instead let you in on how I feel about things other than my own death and the possibility of me flying to a foreign country and not coming back for a few years.

And, yeah, this is a bit childish,
writing an awkward sort of love letter,
in hopes of you never seeing it,
or if you do see it, I'll mostly likely be moved on to other things.

But in all honesty I probably won't even mention this to you, until I'm in college and I message you out of curiosity to how that open heart surgery went.

and now, that its been over a year,
I'm finally in college, and
I'd still like to ask
how that operation went,
and if when they opened up your chest
if your heart was as broken as you told me it was.

if walls could talk, college dorms would sound faintly of soft cries, and loud screams of joy.
church halls would beckon you closer and whisper secrets that no one wants to hear.
if walls could talk, parking garages would echo with screams from fights of broken lovers and the awful screeching of tires
therapy offices would gently hum lullabies slightly off tune and out of key.
if walls could talk, the corners of my bedroom would surround you and tell you things about me that i should've said years ago but
if walls could talk,
id never want to listen

I'm not one for conventional
stereotypes.
But when someone says
"That's not lady-like."
I start to take offense.
See, for years women were shamed
and had to be humble servants to men
We were hanged for "witchcraft"
or merely looking at our neighbors the wrong way.
We were told we would never get to vote or
be in a position of power.
We are asked "Well, what were you wearing?"
Like it's our fault, like the men couldn't control themselves
So when you say to me
that my dress should go past my knees
that I shouldn't curse
that my hair is too short, my waist is too big
that I am "unladylike"
what I hear is "go back to the servant woman who didn't speak, didn't vote, didn't do anything besides what she was told."
And that to me
is unladylike.

to a father who showed up too late
im grateful that you were in my life at all, but why were you eight years late? do you know what kind of damage that did to me? or were you too drunk to care? i love you though, always. next time, call when im drunk too.

to the boy with a broken image of himself
you are not what you see in that mirror. that is not you, and one day what you see will be right. trust me, it will get better soon and everything will be okay. with love, that boy you know you are.

to the woman who single-handedly raised me
i know im a ******* *****, but thank you for doing your best to get me to where i needed to be. im sorry i didn't value you as much as i should have. thanks for putting up with my ****. also, next time you call me, id appreciate it if you would call me by my name. thanks, the son you didn't want but got stuck with anyways.

to the former lover with the broken wings and scars from falling from heaven
*******, you don't ******* miss me. you were bad for me and im glad i left when i had the chance.

to the boy with long hair who i love dearly, mostly platonically
im sorry i put you through hell. thank you for staying by my side through everything. you don't know how much i love you, or appreciate you. and hey, don't forget to smile.

to everyone who ever doubted me
i feel bad for you, because you've got to be a sad bunch of people to try and put down other people. you almost got me, almost. better luck next time.

to myself, ten years ago
i love you, so much. you are gonna do great things. keep your head up and reach for the stars. you've got this, kid

remember when a simple dandelion was the most beautiful and rare flower.

and when if you fell you didn't go to the hospital for a broken bone, your mom just put some Neosporin and a bandage on your knee.

and when you could pluck the petals of a daisy to determine if your crush liked you back.

now it's more like utility bills piling up on the counter and bouquets of dead roses sitting on a kitchen table long forgotten by the moved on couple.

it's wars televised for all to see and pills to help you sleep and alcohol for when that doesn't help.

it's more like drowning your sorrow in the whole carton of chocolate ice cream and Friends reruns on tv interrupted only by the occasional commercial and your tears

it's competing for likes on an app that only exists on your phone and being **** when it comes to real life conversations.


        in these times it's not about who you are, it's about who you pretend to be on the internet.

I fell in love with you the moment I heard my best friend say your name.

Today I read your palm and wanted to see myself in your future but I couldn't see anything.

I asked would you **** me if I paid you and you offered to do it for free, jokingly.

See the thing is I was serious, but you didn't believe me.

list of things that keep me up at night:

one, her

i think about all the times i just wanted to grab her face and kiss her and i didn't. i was scared to.

i think about what ifs and could've beens that keep me tossing and turning like the insomniac i am.

but the love i felt for her was something different, something that was real. i loved her. no. i love her now, even some odd two hundred miles apart from her, i still love her.

my heart skips a beat when i say her name out loud to myself, so i say it often, and proudly, because what we had was real and nobody can or will take it away from me.

i think about how i heard one time in a movie that the skin on your lips regenerates every two weeks and though i dont know if its true, its been more than two weeks and maybe my lips have forgotten her but i sure as hell havent.

i don't want to.

and its been said before in an obscure poem that if [she] spoke that insomnia might loosen its wholesome grip on my throat, and honestly i feel the same about her.

but maybe it is time to move on now

two, other things
i constantly say i'm okay with dying when in reality i am very afraid to die. mostly because i'm not sure i've done everything in this life that i can.
maybe what i really want is to just not exist for a while.

and i think about how i have these memories of running into rose bushes on bicycles and staying up all night talking to strangers in houses not my own.

i can still feel the pain from the first time my heart broke. it healed and left a scar, and was ripped apart at the seams when i moved.

and then that one memory resurfaces and i want to break down and cry and all i can think or say is "i'm sorry" repeated like a broken record.

imsorryimsorryimsorryimsorryimstillinlovewithyouandiamso­sorry

and then, sometimes when i cant bear my own thoughts any longer,

i call up a friend and when our fading voices and last bits of laughter pull the sun up high

high into the sky and i

i breathe.
i lay my head down and close my eyes,

and finally,

               i sleep.

we are the kings and queens of this earth,
the ones who shall inherit what is rightfully ours.
we have waited patiently for thousands of years,
seedlings nestled away to sprout when the time was right.
now is the time, dear brothers and sisters,
to take it back from the ones who possess it now.
this world is ours,
now and forevermore.

i had a girl crush.
she was sweet and kind,
understanding and funny.
she made me feel like, for the first time,
i fit in. and she made my heart flutter
and race. of course it was hard to tell her
how i felt exactly, because
i didn’t even know how i felt.
but when i did know, i felt so happy.
and then anxiety set in, paranoia accompanying
it. it felt like my world would crumble
at a moment’s notice. I worked through it,
built up my self esteem, and prayed to any
deity I though would listen.
when I finally built it up enough, I did
the unthinkable: I asked her out.
and she said yes.
instantly, the paranoia, fear and anxiety
all faded from existence. it was if everything that
felt about to crumble was set right.
everything was good again.

you’re killing yourself,
          slowly and surely
          just wondering about the
    what ifs
    
                           couldve beens
                                                          ­            almosts.
because none of it will ever happen.

its silly you won’t love me
because i promise to hold your hand.

but if i cannot love you as a
l   o  v  e  r
then i will love you as a
friend


but it’s all okay

i’ll be okay
i swear.

because if you’re happy
even if i’m not
that’s all that even
*m a t t e r s

everything was fine
and then, it wasnt

it started slowly
a sort of madness that no one expects
or sees

you kept to yourself more
wore black and grey
and something inside of you just wanted to scream

for no reason, either

and you slipped away,
silently and slowly
with nobody even noticing
until you were gone.

nobody said anything about you
for days, weeks
because we didn't know either

it felt bad for us to see you go
like something was ripped from us
and as slowly as you went

you came back.

you weren't the same though. ever.

I opened up to you,
and yet, it seems, through my vulnerabilities
you cracked down that wall I hid so well.
stone by stone, brick by brick
you tore it down, bringing down the only protection I had.
I worried for so long, about the simple things,
and you brought other things to my attention
making me see things in a better light.
you built my self esteem up,
little by little, bit by bit
until I almost felt proud of myself.
and then, you left.
and I was built more walls
brick by brick, stone by stone
to keep people like you out.

You were a snake,
but you made me believe you were beautiful
and it was terrible because I believed all your lies.
you spoke words made of milk and honey,
thawed my stone cold heart, and made it melt.
you eventually became cold and distant,
spewing venom in each word you threw against me.
and silly me, I believed all your lies anyways.
I guess it was a stupid mistake,
but one I’ll never forget.

to hell with this eternal longing to be loved,
engraved in our souls.
too long have i confused my waning lust
for love.
it ruins me and has ****** me to an entirety
of suffering.

Sometimes I stay up and ponder
      
              *does he ever lie awake and think about the what-ifs
                                                        ­                                     too?

There is not enough soap in the world
to clean away the impurities that have
disgraced my body.

But I will learn to love this
hollow shell containing my soul.

I will love every inch of it,
every smooth curve and every
rough edge.

And even though I am envious
of the girls with long hair and skinny bodies,
I will love myself.

I will love my shaved head,
my unproportionate torso,
my lack of *******, too.

My brash and brutally honest mouth,
every weird mark or stray hair,
I will love it all.

bloodied knuckles,
clenched fists,
black eyes and bruised cheeks.
The aftermath of a drunken fight,
of a tussle with an ex-lover,
of fights long past.

Knuckled turning white
from a fist held too tight.
He says I have fighting hands,
but a pacifist spirit.
And I laugh because,
it's true actually.

It's almost funny
that I want to fight.
I don't know how to,
and I'd probably lose.
It'll be okay though,
the urge will soon pass.

Some of us have hearts so big,
that we don't know what to do with them.
Other people take advantage of this,
and use those people.
Some people will open their hearts,
and stay up all night for some pitiful soul,
trying to talk them out of something that most don't even consider.

Our hearts get us into the greatest troubles, for we look at them like adventures.
Out on quest,
To make our cold print into the world,
We lost.
And quite frank
Our dreams were lost with us.
Some of us weren't made to be dangled and wished on....

Do not forget what we had,
do not brush it off as something that happened once.
What we had was special,
you know this is true.
But what you did to me,
is unforgivable.

I never believed much in a god,
after my dad's death especially.
But then I found her,
and it was like I saw God in her face.
She took me to church,
on Wednesdays, sometimes Sundays.
And we held hands through the service,
so tight, I thought, the angels would have to tear us apart.
I loved her so much,
and I started to believe again.
Then her pastor started to shout,
words of negativity about our kind of love.
My heart fell,
for I could not believe a loving god would hate us just for that.
I slowly drifted further from believing,
and found something new.
But I still went to church,
and sat through the fire and brimstone services.
Then one Sunday, as I got up to leave,
she chased me into the bathroom.
And what happened there,
led me to never again go to church, as a believer.

I had a foster parent who was
Active duty, military recruiter, Army branch.
I remember him distinctly because of one thing:
His tattoo, which stated a morosely true fact,
"Only the dead have seen the end of war."
I questioned him on it, one day,
To be answered with a gruff response containing,
"You'll learn when you get in the service."
And now that I have left them,
Left his house, and been placed in a group home,
I've only thought about one thing:
Serving my country like my foster father does.
And to do that, albeit in a completely different branch,
I would be truly honored.

awakened at 2 am again,
and depression starts to seep in.
you toss in your bed,
having those nightmares once more.
it's 3 am again,
and i'm so sad.
my favorite picture lays next to the shattered glass,
and they tell me i'm not a poet.
but it's **** near 4 am again,
and the sun will rise.
you're awoken by the sound of tears hitting the broken glass,
and i tell you to go back to bed.
it's 5 am again,
and we can see glimmers of light through the windows.
so i crack open two eggs,
scramble them and make toast.
now it's already 6 am again,
and as we're munching on breakfast we watch the sunrise.
i say i love you,
and clamber back into bed shakily.

pt. 3
i know i can’t handle anything without losing my mind, and i can’t wait till i see his face without feeling anything. but until then, i have to handle everything and not to lose my mind, and if i can’t ill just go back to that place that has helped me in the past. this time i will stay longer, and be nicer. and i WILL smile.
m.s.

pt. 2
oh god im scared about the future.
i don’t want to go off to college without my friends and then have to make new friends. and im scared to leave my mom. she needs me now more than ever, and im barely here. but i have to grow up. i have to move on.
with or without my friends i must go forth into the future. and they will do the same. we’ll all go our separate ways and be sad for a while. then, just then, we might discover someone new.
m.s.

pt. 1
sometimes, when i want to think about things
i look up at the stars and wonder
if im ever on anyone's mind.
then i think about how insignificant we in the universe, and how significant we are to one another. as i lay on my roof top
i think about other things too.
the universe, life, existence itself, you.
i think about how we become friends with people to help them, and they help us.
and how when we no longer need each other's help we will move on.
but i don't want to move on. i don't want to lose those amazing people ive become friends with.
i have a friend who's going off to college soon. and im scared. im so scared to lose him. to lose you. and you won't ever even see this, but i want to say that i love you.
platonically now. but romantically then.
im so scared to lose you. im so scared. and im such a bad friend. im sorry. i burden you with all my problems and rarely listen to yours. i feel terrible and im sorry. im so sorry.
but sometimes, when i want to think about things
i look up at the stars and wonder
if im ever on your mind.
m.s.

you told me about all your favorite bands.
and i fell in love immediately.
you and the songs.
watching cigarettes light in the dark was your favorite
thing to do,
and because you liked it,
so did i.
you watched the stars at night,
on the rooftop while you were high,
so i broke my leg trying to get on my roof while i was high.
and you tried to teach me to skate
because you wanted me to hang out
with your friends too.
Pop Punk was your favorite genre
and i wanted you to love me,
so i made it my favorite too.
i really love you and everything you do,
and i honestly don't care if you do too.
But one thing will last forever,
Pop Punk will always remind me of you.

I hate my body.
I am a walking embodiment of disappointment.
I pick at my face and my hair.
The girl beside me is beautiful
And she hates her body.
She is very meticulous when it comes to her image
but when she stops and looks in the mirror
She is disgusted by what she sees.
Why does she hate her perfect body?
her peers scrutinize her appearance daily
and tell her she is not beautiful.
Her friends hate their bodies too,
for reasons just the same.
It's a vicious cycle that I wish to break.
I will learn to love my body some day
but for now,
I do not like my body.
at least that's what my friends want me to think.

The sun's last light guides him home tonight.
He's weak and weary, in desperate need of a break.
The light on his porch is comforting and bright,
Reminding him that maybe everything will be alright.
When he gets inside there is a bunch of flowers,
Sitting in the windowsill like someone had just tossed them there.
The light from the moon illuminates them,
Guiding him towards the note carefully tied to the flowers.
The note is from the light of his life, the one who was to be his wife.
Shes leaving him for another, draining the light from his life.
He picks up the flowers, smelling each one slowly.
The flowers go flying in rage, his tired body hitting the ground.
The starlight is all he can see, apart from tears in his eyes.
When morning comes he is drunk and cannot bear the sunlight.
He closes the curtains, turning his once bright room into dark.

"Je t'aime."
She told you.
But you couldn't understand her
So you left and never came back.


"Je t'aime."
She said to him.
This time he understood her.
"Au revoir."*
Because he didn't love her back.

A gentle breeze blows through
and I sway in it.
The seasons are changing
and so will I.
As time passes by
I will grow and decay
I do not last forever.
I am not here to stay.

A gentle breeze may blow through
But I do not sway.
The seasons may change
But it will not change me.
Time passed by
And I grew and grew.
I will not decay
I am forever
I am here to stay.

I am made of stars.
They cover my skin,
creating galaxies that traverse my body.
I am beautiful.
Every breath I take creates something new,
like a world full of beauty.
I am a good person.
Though I occasionally do bad,
I am wonderful and nobody hates me.
I am made of stars.
And I am learning to love myself.

I want to write, but can't think of something
I want to speak but the words don't come out right.
it ***** to live with my mind sometimes
my brain feels like static when something goes wrong.
I'm scatterbrained and can't think a lot
when I can think, I'm usually drowning in my thoughts.
I don't really like my brain most of the time
it tells me to do awful things and sometimes I listen.
I do horrible things to myself occasionally
I don't like to hurt myself but it feels good in a twisted way.
it ***** to live with my mind all the time
I'm just a puppet, and my brain, the puppeteer, is hellbent on my destruction.

"Run away with me."*
There was a pause
I was speechless, breathless
a question like that, how could I answer it?
I took a moment
and looked at my love.
I loved her for more than looks
but in her looks
she was a god, and I, a peasant.
Her eyes were beautifully brown
and her skin silky soft.
When she held me, I felt safe
when she kissed me, I felt like a goddess.
She made me feel so special
she made me feel whole
and I hoped she did the same.
She snapped me back to reality
asking again that unanswered question
       *"Run away with me."
I finally had an answer
               "Anytime you want."