i am different, so you prescribe me with pills to make me feel aye-okay but now I'm that girl who takes pills. you know the girl who's ****** up in the head. the girl who had scars covering her wrists and who talks to the counselors once a week. you know who I'm talking about everyone knows her. i don't want to be that girl. that girl who's known for being sad, the one who's just never really there. the girl who you went to school with for 5 years and you still don't know her name.

The covers cried out
as I break free of their greedy,
jealous grasp. First small victory…
I’m supposed to count those you know?
To remind myself to keep moving.
I still cut out my heart today
and sat it on the kitchen table.

The knife smiled at me,
small victory for it I guess.
I felt the air slaloming
between my ribs
on its way to my spine,
where it grabbed hold.
Cold, unforgiving.

I should be used to the cold,
it’s the same every today.
My needle pierces the scars
as I sew the thick flesh back in place,
to keep the cold out, of course.
Reminding me of the days
the victories weren’t enough.

I stand and put on my sweater,
grab the heart, and throw it in the trash
on my way to the covers
to ask their forgiveness for thinking
I would be strong enough today.
The victories can wait until tomorrow
after all.

I wanted you
to  s p r e a d  me
like butter.

I wanted your
knife's cold surface
to warm me up.

I wanted you
to ******* saltiness
as if it was sweetness.

you trail blood with you ..
wherever you
go —

leaking from holes i made
inside your
                   chest ,,

so tell me //

why
am i the one crying ,
when i know
i’ll break your heart ?

i pray that you will end me ,
with a knife plunged in my gut —

for
death is better than
any pain
that
i will ever cause
                           you .
                                    .

the knife i held in my hand
the blood that poured from my chest
both crimson red, just like the blood that drips from my worn down finger tips when i clutched the thorns on the roses you gave to me, valentine’s curse
an open wound, cut in the shape of a heart
the doorway to my now empty rib cages that once housed the heart that beat solely for me

hand dyed crimson
is that my blood? or is that now your blood too?
vertigo symptoms
i can feel the heart beating in my palm
i place it on the gilded platter
i hand the platter to you
here is my heart
it beats only for you
it will love you for as long as you let it
please cherish it, treat it kindly
it is yours now, do with it what you wish

you took the knife from my hand and stabbed it
the room became silent, the beating had died out
with the disappearance of the beat, i disappeared with it.