You took my light away

And let me stumble in the darkness

Why do you do this to me

I asked you to stop

But you dragged me back

Kicking and screaming all the while

I’m drowning in the flood

That you created

Said something dense
Breathe in, breathe out
Face crossroads with thoughts

But eyes don't lie

Frown like a fiery pulse
Cold turns hot

Eyes don't blink
Through winds
A straight gaze
Not obstructed

In rain
Still unbreakable
Five minutes of fierceness

Till exit
Deadly thoughts calm down
Glare to glow
Stiff lessens

Else around
On best behavior

When you ask what just happened
Don't know the answer

Apple, berry, and honey.
A giving tree,
a vine’d bush,
and a killer bee.
Fulfillment underneath,
my ice cream.
All in the home,
of the outer layer.
Warm desserts off,
passed down family notes.
Holed out memories,
forgotten the smiles.
One day beyond,
I’ll finally see,
what was left behind,
for you and me.

I want to be something great,
But according to everyone else,
That's well beyond my years.

Why is it only my youth they comment on?
Are they admitting I'd be better off than them,
If I was aging on 41?

A poet is somebody who writes poem,
Not someone, old, who writes a poem.
So call me a poet, or that is what you are not.

Back in school I submitted my poem for an English assignment.
I got bad marks, so I vowed never to use my poems again.
But now all I want to do, is shove my poems in front of you.

Have your opinions about whom a poet should be,
Just don't use them to disrespect me,
And my stupid poem about olivine.

If it’s not love it’s poison,
If it’s not good, then it’s evil.
If you’re not warm, you’re freezing.
And if you leave you’re cruel,
And if you stay clinging on for too long, you are nothing.
So, if it’s not love, it’s poison,
And if you’re not surrounded you’re alone,
And if you're not full you're starved.
If you break you’re nothing,
You’re alone,
So if it’s not love, then it is poison.

It’s said that the human body replaces itself
With entirely new cells every seven years.

In seven years, I will be free from your touch.

In seven years your fingerprints will
No longer be burned into my skin.
In seven years I will be able to
Wash my body and finally feel clean.

In seven years I will be able to kiss
Without getting sick in a cold toilet,
Sobbing sobbing sobbing,
Because my tongue tastes of you.

In seven years, maybe I won’t
Lock my bedroom doors,
Fearing a monster that lives
Not under the bed.

In seven years, one more woman
Will pretend to feel free.

I cried again last night,
I just hate doing that.
I hate how uncontrollably my tears fall,
How they just roll off my eyes, smash my pillow at free will,
While I try with all my might to not let the sounds of cry escape my lips.

I hate feeling so helpless,
I hate the dampness of my pillow in the morning,
I hate that I have to wake up before everyone else so I can fix my eyes,
I hate that I made this my norm.

Honestly I'm tired...
I'm tired of hiding my pain,
I'm tired of hiding my sadness,
I'm tired of hiding my anger,
I'm tired of hiding my breakdowns.

I don't want to be the strong one anymore.
No one checks up on the strong one.
I don't want to live under these assumptions of being a fighter,
I can't even hold up a fist.
I don't want to be dealt these cards anymore and be told to just make it work.

I'm tired,
I am so so tired.
I'm exhausted.
Just... depleted.