Tomorrow will be sixty three days.
Sixty three days
Of wanting to breathe as deeply as I could.
Of enjoying the feeling
Of the sun on my skin.
Of knowing I'm not horrible.

Tomorrow I will still have
Thirty seven days to go,
Until I get to one hundred.

And now I'm counting down the days,
Until I get to see you.
I only have to go three nights,
Two days,
Until I see you again.

I am so glad
That I made it.
I am so glad
I didn't break.
I am so glad
To enjoy the sound of music again.
I am so happy
To be alive.

Right now I'm crying,
Because it's a beautiful feeling,
Wanting to live
And being in love.

If I can make it passed
All the torment I've made it through,
To get to this,
With you at my side,
I know I can do anything.

Actions speak louder than words.
Let me show you my gratitude and humble pride
Until the day after forever.

there was a time,
when dresses were taboo
and shorts stowed away in my closet,
afraid to expose myself.
i used to die in agony,
on a hot summer day,
just to keep covered and
away from prying eyes.
intentionally, sand would
cake my legs and arms,
while others laid in the vast openness
of the beach, begging for the sun
to touch their skin.
there were times i almost felt okay,
to show without barriers,
until i saw the eyes of my love
looking.
and for a split second, i saw
the sadness i caused and the
shifting eyes, wondering if anyone else
can see.
but you kiss each scar, you ask questions,
and you have a wonderlust to
dance over my past and to understand
my journey.
and now, skirts are my favorite things,
and i tell my story in hopes of shaping the lives
of those who have once been in my shoes.
and i'm no longer afraid, to wear my stripes.

October 19th
That's when I started to hate everything:
  My Boyfriend. School. My Family. Myself. My Life.
Things I really cared about before.
But that was before.
Before my schitzo boyfriend became a liar. A cheater.
Before he went from the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with  to the man I never wanted to see again.
Before I got to school one day, looked around, and got sick to my stomach.
I realized that the bright, white lights,
   cold, white walls
Reminded me of my second home:    The Hospital.
The other students resembled the slow "Beep, beep, beep" of the machines I am so familiar with.
The pain I go through everyday...
When I lost hope...
Stopped caring...
Oh, but BEFORE?!
I cared...
Before my mom announced that she was pregnant with my 5th brother, and 6th sibling,
I was excited!
...
Until I realized that I'd have another child to raise.
Well, ******, atleast I'd have help this time.
From the stepdad who doesn't seem to want to stay.
And the brother who refuses to take his medication.
Hard to believe, but BEFORE,...
I cared.
But that was before.
Before everything.
NOW?
I'm done caring.
Because now is now.
Before was just...
                                         Before.

To this day I smoke cigarettes in their names
a collection of men
admittedly women
that after settling too long
sit somewhere between memories and strain.
I don't burden myself with the weight of their names
though a few of their impressions have become deepening stains
bruising, blemishing the favorite spots on my brain.
Earliest versions of the story have found personal inches on my skin
before I grew up I learned to let it leak in
sluicing through veins
burning the moments of where I had been
in attempts to remind myself of what remains.

Sleeves of scars
and a garter of silver lines and burns
oh the hurt I've endured
Seated by the fire as a child
Lord knows I've had thoughts like this for a while
I'd dwell on the discretion I took
brooding over every hook that snagged my flesh
made a mess
of the little girl I never was
and they who shook me
pet me from the inside out
must have forgotten to what degree
their consumptive hands made me bleed
God how I wish they could see
every stain left with or without cause
was provoked by their nostalgic applause
but I don't even blame them
It was a conscious disease
perniciously eating
still chewing at me.

Tell me how your storm goes.
Have you ever suffered?
If so have you gotten better?
Or haven't you recovered.

Everyday you raise a hand to my face
These scars are something I cannot erase
My body colored from purple to brown
You beat the soul right out of me, it can no longer be found
I flinch when you raise your arm
This fear you’ve created because of your harm

I can’t just get up and walk away
You told me you’ll **** me if I didn’t stay
Blood has been drawn several times before
That didn’t stop you, it made you want more
I cry every night because of you
For all the pain you’ve put me through
It’s made me into who I am today
For I have recovered from your violent ways

(A. Moreno)