When I first crushed into this boy,
it was like walking in the breeze
a beam of sunshine on my desk
a hope of seeing something more
When I first crushed into this man,
There was no pain, but much of fear
I saw him wild and saw him tamed,
And thought I knew what was his core.
I didn't.

Much to his surprise,
I stood relentless by his side.
He pushed away, I didn't halt,
And now I'm broke,
And it's my fault.
When I first crushed into this man,
I had a thousand miles to go.
I'm walking still without a plan.
Above me cries ****** of crows.
It's killing me and I don't care,
I've promised not to turn away.
My soul's beginning to decay.
I'm scared as hell and it's not fair.
Right now, I write and realise.
It's not like walking in the breeze -
A storm that upside-downs my desk.
A pain, and fear that makes me freeze.
Right now, I write and realise -
Despite all this, I still don't care.
It's downright mad and it's unwise,
But to see you, I'll pay this fare.

He punched me last week
And told me that he was joking and that's between me and him
My friends saw and helped me break it off yesterday
Today is my eighteenth birthday
And I am nothing like my mother

there was always a darkness in him.
the light that she so easily shone,
disappeared in the black hole cut in the
middle of his chest.

he never gave it back

and when you complain
about the bite you receive
do not forget
who sharpened these teeth.

— you taught this dog to bite

i think i just wanted my innocence back.

i can't get my first kiss back.
i've been touched and approached and pursued in ways i didn't want.

i just wanted my first times to Anything to be special.
i wanted my first, real lover to stroke my cheek with their hand and i wanted to kiss them for the first time under the stars,
i want butterflies and no doubt.
no doubt, no fear,
just butterflies.

i can't unfeel his hand on my leg.
i wanted the first person to touch me in Any way to be someone who i love, who i trust.
not a ball and chain, not a push and pull.

growing up in a shaking, rumbling home,
i've seen people come and go.
i've heard the cries through closed doors and the yelling on the lawn.
this was love.

i prayed when i was young that maybe i could get something different.

I know some people
like to pour salt in the wound
but I'd never met anyone
who'd so carefully cut open old scars
just to clean them with saline
and delight so wildly in my pain
before you