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did you think you could just take
the most vulnerable parts of me
and then leave without saying a word,
like i wouldn't rage a storm on you?
like it hasn't happened to me before?
did you think you would be so special
that i would let you ruin me?
because you got the one girl that your teammates couldn't stop talking about.
because you used her.
because she told you about the things
that made her bones ache?
and then you left,
without saying one word.
did it make you feel good?
and now you can't even pick up
the phone and answer when she asks
why.
because you are that weak.
honey, let's be real here:
you could never handle this storm
and we both knew that.
 Oct 2017 Alaska Young
Mya
Mix drinks
Not emotions
I hope
at least one versions of you
will fall for
one versions of me.
 Jun 2017 Alaska Young
Sandoval
I was not born a

poet.

I was broken into

one.


*Sandoval
Do not be afraid to write
poetry,
do not be afraid to let parts
of your soul take form
in word and verse
and do not be afraid to crush the mountains
of doubt from the ones you love
and show them that what you have
to say is worthwhile and permanent
and show them that you are not afraid
of your scars and your thoughts
and your mistakes
and do not be afraid of the pain
of reopening old wounds
and letting the gush splash across
the page in witty diatribes
that make you feel a little better
about the fact that you let a relationship
nearly **** you
and do not be afraid to line up all the painful
memories and conversations you'll never be able to have
and one by one
write them into poetry
and get them out of your soul
where they've been rotting
and turning you inside out.
If we'd lived like normal people-
All of this could have been avoided.
But we didn't.
We were nuts and desperate.
We couldn't help but create this
nothingness that drove us completely crazy,
sad,
empty.
Still, no one's desperation came close
to matching mine.
They all seemed to be able to go back to their lives.
They got scuffed up and they got on with it,
Only I seemed to be left behind,
crying and screaming,
wanting some satisfaction,
wanting to feel something.
I always sought solace in places
where I know, absolutely,
that it did not exist.

Is this what insanity feels like?
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