You looked at me father, weren't my
eyes the reflection of yours, did I not
     smile in glazed view at the words
misunderstood but still a vibration
of what I heard in the womb of mother.

Yet, just because I'm not of male,
                        but female without my choosing
you want me to be just a memory.
Like a conception of love was voided
                         at the moment of my birth.

Woven in a blanket, angers voiced echoed
              I felt the taste of the air linger in
distasted tears as mother picked me up.
            kissing my lips, her tears of
                        pain and regret I could taste.

But father had me now, I was in the cold
             I felt his love dissipate.
             Silence was his voice now.
Not even a gentle goodbye,
but like yesterdays newspaper discarded.

Tears cradled my face, not understanding
             why this cold night grasped at me
more lovingly than fathers last embrace.
My expressions silenced as I ran out of tears.

I heard a mumbled voice,
                           not of father or mother.
But a gentle one of age, more secure in
the visible definition that I was a girl.
Holding me tightly, I heard others words.
I wasn't alone any longer, but what was my fate.

My daddy, told me the tale of my birth,
           and the implications of what back
then seemed like weakness.
But I have shown the world, that no matter
your gender it still has equal worth.

The past is a scar that still hurts,
        Never knowing my true family,
if they could ever have been called that.
But this family, this gentleman and my
        my loving mother, kept me warm.

Now I'm older, old mistakes of culture
        and religion are melding with modern
society, no longer are girls left to fend alone.
We are seen through eyes of love and compassion.
Not through the eyes of an abandonment of love.

I smiled,
All the while,
It was as false
As a dice.

The came my laughter,
It was bitter,
Uncontrollable  tears fell thereafter.

On the floor I sagged,
Within me a volcano raged,
Me,I, myself  ditched!!
When many I had dumped.

All  the wedding plans had been made,
All the time I was misled,
Not me, my best friend he wanted.

Suicide? Not my kind,
******? Was on my mind.

Then I realised,
The magma in me subsided,
With despair I smirked,
My eyebrows quirked,
Many I had jilted,
They must have been brokenhearted,
You reap what you sow,
In time, may be,I will find the right beau.

In the meantime I will rest,
Hot scented baths,soft music,
delicious food, the best.
Perhaps, a move to the countryside,
With family and old friends by my side.

The story goes: A sad poet sat
beside the unpolished fireplace
immersed in the dying fire
and began with would be heres.
Such tragedy choked me when you set off toward the horizon.
And I knelt gasping, gasping for breath.
Begging for a last look, before death.
I burned in depth.
You spat flowers, moving away
giving a shadowed smile
And an empty love letter.
I dearly wished for better.
There was no better.
There however, was an end
to the rise and fall of my chest
I bet you thought it was for the best.
Twenty years of solemn dysfunction
and morbid melancholy.
Darling! Listen to my ifs and buts
silly and dramatic cuts through my throat.
Believe! For a moment watch close
my insane heart would still beat
if you were here, by the fireplace now
I could make a perpetual vow
to speak your soft heart only.
I hate confessing I feel broken and lonely.
But I'd do anything
And I'd do everything for you.
to come back and do
all I thought impossible
but possible with you..

I open the wooden door to my derelict mind
To see myself crawling on the wet playground of dreams ,‎
Where I have dwelled in, ever since you left
I clutch to an old photo of you that broadly beams 
It seems, as though millions of years have passed 
The first furtive gaze into your almond eyes 
The piles of midnight letters I could never send
Oh darling! Love deep buried in your heart lies
Like a dying ember in the arms of an antique fireplace ! 
I trace back to my past, when I had you close at hand.
My foolish mind devoiding the agony of your absence 
As for this tyrannical solitude I had never planned
I stand on a deserted island fenced by a sea
Of swimming monsters, that aim at my very soul
They, in quest to bite a piece of me ‎
And I, in the depth of this dream,roll and roll...
~Tina RSH

i am...

A-bstractly addicted to absolute abuse
B-y basketcase boys with nothing better to be
C-autious when I caught chaos
D-riving me delutional day by day
E-ven when everyone echoed into my ear
F-uck this familiar fatal feeling
G-oing after guilty guys
H-ardly having healthy habits
I-njuring my inner innocence
J-ustifying jaded *******
K-indly killing all
L-ackluster lovers so they dont
M-ention me making mistakes
N-ever not nervous
O-ver obsolete oblivion
P-inky promising people to stay
Q-uietly questioning my
R-eason to resolve all emoitions ripping right from my
S-tomach snaking their way to satisfaction
T-hrough tounges I never even wanted to taste
U-nable to grasp unhappiness
V-isiously turning up the volume
W-aiting for any kind of wasted warmth
X-eric eyes
Y-et again teary
Z-oning through endless time

until i'm right back where i started...

I wanted so badly to cry,
Because it didn't feel right,
Since I should be seething with anger and drowning in melancholy,
But not a tear and not even the slightest fear,
Despite having chosen to disappear,
To let go of a good thing - one I hold dear,
Since distance I cannot bear,
For his absence is a cause of my despair,
Making me certain that love is a game where neither is playing fair;

So here I am at half an hour after midnight,
Trying to make sense of things in the only way I knew how,
Through words that bleed like ink of a broken penmanship,
From putting too much force,
When gentle strokes would've resulted in better flow,
Of thoughts and sense that says more,
About how feelings are not meant to be comprehended,
Through words that could easily be misconstrued,
Missing the mark with every character,
Because most only read what they want to hear;

Sometimes I kid myself into believing,
That perhaps I've always had it coming,
For I wear my heart on the sleeves of my favourite sweater,
As though it was the only way I know how to accessorise,
When fact of the matter is that I've other pieces worth showcasing,
That told more than just how I'm made up of feelings,
Too much in fact that I'm close to suffocating,
With hope that when I do there will always be someone ready to resuscitate me,
Taking me as his for all eternity,
Because I'm ready to jump rather than fall in,
Hoping to avoid the pain of breaking and entering,
A house I intend to make my home,
When there wasn't even room to rent in his listing.

@byizn

I’ve been sitting around wondering why I couldn’t be enough for you
And why you never wanted the love I was willing to give
But I know why
I am Manic Pixie Dream Girl to you
And when I became too human to admire
I was no longer enough for you
We all know what happens to any of John Green’s female characters
After we close the books
They either end up alone
Or dead
There’s only two options for a girl like me
Either I am manic pixie dream girl
Drinking some IPA my father would drink
And probably throwing up my lunch in the bathroom
Or I am nothing
I never asked to be Manic Pixie Dream Girl
I dreamed of being dream girl
The one in the movie with the long blonde hair
And the rich father
And the stay at home mom
And the trust fund
But I guess this is the next best thing
I promise you that you know exactly who I am
The girl in the movie with the dyed hair
and the love for some obscure random poet
or band
or artist
She's quirky
And wears flowers in her hair
She smokes too many cigarettes
Or does too many drugs
Or has some mental illness
She has something wrong with her that the audience loves
And she barely speaks
But when she does everyone stops to listen
And the protagonist loves me in his time of need
But once he gets what he needs from me
He’ll get to go back to dream girl
I give him his sense of self worth
And he gets the girl
But the author of this story never bothers to worry about me
He never wonders if I have feelings too
So overtime, through pain and heartbreak
I’ve learned better than to get attached
Manic Pixie Dream Girl knows she only gets a few moments
I did my job here
You learned your lessons
So I guess my time is up
It is time for me to move on
To some other ordinary guy
With an ordinary life
And I will come in, shaking the walls
And once he gets what he needs
He will find his dream girl
And fall for her instead
I will be back here
With this same silence
These same regrets
These same bags under my eyes
I will once again be too human to love
I will be a pile of hair dye and ***** and Bukowski books
And you will be so in love you never wonder about me ever again
But when you grow old
And you have your house in the suburbs
And your cubicle job
And you’re married to dream girl, who you never really loved
You’ll wake up and wonder how you got here
And you’ll remember me
The girl who changed you
And you will feel so nostalgic you will tell your children about me
And I know you’ll only call me manic pixie dream girl
Because you won’t bother to remember my name
anyway

You.
You were my shelter in the middle of my storm,
my shoulder to cry on when all felt forlorn.
I drew my strength from your love's warmth
But all that's past and alive no more.

You.
You’re a math expression with no solution,
an ingredient in the recipe of my confusion.
To my desperate pleas, you answered vaguely;
I just wanted to know how you’ve been doing lately,
after our love, after our loss.
after experiences we never thought would become fleeting memories
of a bond we hoped would last for centuries,
after long, late nights up spent envisioning a future with you and me,
of writing a book's last chapter that would end happily.
after broken promises that broke both our hearts.
Although words may break my heart
and sticks and stones may break my bones,
betrayal by someone who felt like home
makes me question myself and crushes my soul.
I thought I was your best friend, your dream girl, your ride-or-die,
but after you met her, that no longer mattered and you bade me goodbye,
while gravity gained on the tears that began to stream from my eyes,
nearly a year and a half of love cut short by the devil in disguise.

They say grief is a linear five-stage process,
which involves denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance,
but grief over him for me was a convoluted, confusing hodgepodge that muddled up all those feelings together.

Grief was denial over him loving me and leaving me all at once.

Grief was rage triggered by this sudden betrayal and loss of trust, by making out his love to be a lie,
by all my effort put into loving him unconditionally going down the drain in the blink of an eye.

Grief was wrestling between giving him liberty to fool around
and bargaining to salvage and kindle the embers of the fire
that once burned between us that could be redeemed.

Grief was depression over being taking for granted, depression over promises never kept,
depression over words that I fell for that broke my heart in the end.

Grief was struggling to accept the aftermath of it all, no matter how huge a hole it left in my heart.

Grief was accepting his departure one second, then reminiscing about the love we used to share and bargaining for it back.

Grief was struggling to be happy again, then remembering how he broke my heart and feeling either vexed or sad or both emotions at once.

Grief was loving him in the wake of my loss.

But grief wasn’t going to sting as much as it would if I had attached my self-worth onto the relationship. I already knew what love was before I met him.

I've found love in being saved by the blood of my Savior,

I've found love in friends and family who’ve seen me at my worst and chose to stay,

I've found love in education and learning more about the world around me outside of the classroom,

I've found love in my craft,

I've found love in other people's craft,

I've found love in many places where he isn't.

I will be fine.

I’ve found that love is not selfish; love is giving.
Love meant putting the needs of others before its own.
If one can’t understand that,
then they weren’t ready to commit themselves to a serious relationship with anyone,
nor can they maintain healthy, cordial relationships with other people in their life.

I already knew what love was before I met him; I just don’t
understand why people have such a hard time reciprocating it.

I thought he was my red string of fate.

I guess my eyes simply weren’t adjusted correctly to the light.

-a.l.