Maybe a car will drive by
throwing out some light
onto my face in the dark
catching on my tears there
revealing my vulnerabilities

Maybe a car will drive by
then when I leave the house
they'll think of me tomorrow
as a story on the morning news
or maybe they won't remember

Maybe a car will drive by
as I walk alone in the dark
the driver won't even glance at me
the headlights flickering across
without ever noticing my figure

Maybe a car will drive by
and it will bless me tonight
it will drive along the bridge
I will look at it from the ledge
and it could hit me on accident

i write out my feelings.
are they true? are the words i put out true?

hell, i don’t even know.


reading your poems about her, god

*******.


****.

yknow?


i don’t know if i can do this.


i’ve gotten better, honestly,



but now the scent of food makes me gag,


the sight of you makes me warm.


and she glares, making me stop.



i want to hug you.

to call you mine.


BUT GOD I ALWAYS KEEP QUIET FOR TOO LONG AND I DONT EVEN KNOW IF THE THINGS YOU TELL ME ARE TRUE BECAUSE IM SURE YOU WOULDNT TELL MY **** BUT-

but-

but it’s okay.


i’m a bit jealous, is all.


oh well.



at least your happy with the person who took you away

"Where is my child?
Where have you taken her?"
She lays her head across the floor
the carpet oddly cold.
She calls out for help
from the only person
who sees and
understands her completely.
But she herself, the seer,
is crying in a pain of her own

And the woman realized that
the Seer
Was  her reflection

The smell of a cigarette
The glow of the ashes
The flick of such dust
Fluttering down
You saw me standing
still as a tree
standing beneath the
parking lot's lamp.
Panting.
Sobbing.
Illuminated by gold.
You saw the scar.
My scar.
How did it get there?
I see you thinking.
But I hate that.
"You know it's impolite to stare."