i never noticed the pimples placed around my cheeks and the roughness of my hands intertwined around soft ones. i never batted an eye at my failed attempt at wing eyeliner until i saw girls my age’s eyelashes were longer than mine and their eye makeup sparkled with the L.E.D lights at parties. then i made it my mission to pump three pumps of lotion onto my hands and wash my face religiously and spend thirty minutes in the mirror before school, even if it meant i’d be late. i never knew the standards i set for myself until i realized the pedestal was too high for me to climb. i always told myself i wasn’t afraid of heights but broke down in tears when i got back my test and saw my teacher’s red-inked mark ups. faults of mine swallowed me whole and spat me out into a more flawed version of myself with tears smearing down my cheeks and smudged eyeliner covering my eyes and pimple patches peppered on my face and dry skin all up my arms. i wrote perfectionist in big, bold red letters but was too perfect to notice. i always told myself i wasn’t afraid of heights so i went above and beyond my ambitions, too consumed to realize my high standards were too high for me to reach.

you call me
your princess
but i haven’t been
to your kingdom
in a while.

i tend to set my expectations low and let fate decide if i’m good enough for them. i never really liked the boy in 6th grade, but i really loved the one that got away. i wear pants a lot because i hate shaving my legs. my dad made me uncomfortable throughout my childhood, but i was too afraid to say anything because i thought his actions were normal. i trick myself into thinking i’m lazy but i think i’m just too tired to try. my family is falling apart and no one cares enough to fix it. when you come over, i shove all of my clothes (clean and *****, i didn’t have time to check (i had time to check but didn’t care enough to use it)) under my bed and hope you don’t notice. i feel like i’m not a good daughter but i don’t think i’m a failure just yet. i’m too tired of searching for a boyfriend but i really want one. i know he’s the problem but i wish things were the way they used to be. i’m lonely and i think i’m the reason why. i want to change my identity and i want to escape life and explore another world.

maybe if life moved forward (if i moved forward) then i would find someone better than the boy before. mercury comes with misunderstandings - at least that’s what google is telling me - so maybe you couldn’t tell how much i really liked you (maybe the signs i was giving you weren’t enough and maybe the signs you were giving me were too much.) how much i thought you were the one. how much i dreamed about you (ashamedly, still do). how you could have asked me to prom with a big sign and how i would jump into your arms and scream "yes! of course i’ll go with you." and i even imagined us breaking up and me storming into my room while my mom tried to comfort me and how i cried to olivia rodrigo because i want to relate to breakup songs. i want to feel the heartbreak and see if it's as bad as everyone says it is. that’s not selfish, right? the want (the need, if we’re being real) for you to rip my heart out of my body and shatter my insides until all that’s left of me is broken glass and blood that spells out "see, mom? i like boys afterall." i would look down at the proof that i am lovable and turn my sobs into smiles because i survived the war and am left standing (just without a heart, the will to live, and the haunting realization that you will never love me the way you never did).

Every note, every key is played off the piano so gently as your fingers caress the keys so freely, like the words that slip off your tongue.

The words comfort me, entrance me, engulf me in all that I am.

You feel like the sun glistening on my skin in the summer,
like the wind that whispers against me,
like the thunder that rumbles through my soul.

The one that longs for you,
wanting you, needing you—
an unknown feeling, a thought that resembles your being.

The one that keeps me close,
the one that keeps me safe,
the one that keeps me burning like flames—
Until all that remains is the warmth of you.

I woke with too much purpose this morning.
I swear it was me
who split the dark sky open
like pointed steel through wood.

The sharp hack of existence hit
when I visualized my wallet
on the kitchen counter,
leaning against that vase
with the snake on it.

Second in line
at the grocery store,
cart overflowing.

People can be pure,
They can be kind,
Or narcissistic,
And blind,
To pain,
And strife.
They can betray you,
And twist the knife.
People can be empathetic,
Hold you close.
Be there for you,
When you need it the most,
Or break your heart,
Snap it in two,
Lie and say they’re sorry,
Like they always do.
They can nurture,
They can praise,
Or they can hurt,
And manipulate,
Depends on the person,
And their heart,
Where they are,
And where they started from.
People are people,
That’s who we are,
Imperfectly perfect,
Gazing at the stars,
Wondering our purpose,
Wondering the worth of this.
Not everyone is evil,
Not everyone is kind,
People are people,
All of the time…

Live your lie
with the f
but still remember
the truth you hold is no longer yours
spare the air as it hits your face
scar the trees that do no harm
cut the plants that give you life
eat the meat that makes you smile
no longer a lie
a truth untold
still a lump in your throat
until you let go
remember the f that you spare

Though today wasn’t the best,
Perhaps tomorrow will be better.
A commonplace belief.
Founded upon a simple ray of hope,
Sometimes, that’s all we need.
I’ll dream about a peaceful tomorrow,
One without the strife of today,
Tomorrow’s a new day,
At least, that’s what they say.
I guess I’ll find out tomorrow.
I’ll hope and pray,
That tomorrow’s better than today.