I wish that i could take back the kindest i shared
You are  so closed  mind   and stuck in the past
I can't  live in world  where its  one way
I have take step back look see the world from outside looking in
I am nothing to then  you then just another step
My heart is too kind for you
I wish i could walk and slam door in your face
You never see how u are  blind by your own self
It  is time to remove this cancer out of my life
And  stop being the hammer to the nail

when he asked if I wanted to drive deep into the mountains
if I wanted to go down back roads and across forgotten trails
if I wanted to drive past every lost monument that wasn't littered with the names of children who let go of themselves, etched into the cool pavement with black ink,
I said no,
because those names,
those monuments,
spark of a memory I don't share a psychological bond with
it brings me back to days I didn't walk through
the smell of the paint almost dry
carries me on a breeze that's cold as ice from the lack of my touch.

I didn't live in those memories.
but the stain they leave behind,
the valleys I walked through were covered limb to limb in the acrylic drippings of time
and I am here just moments later
moments after the show began
the finale lingers in the leaves
covering each berry in hues of gray

I didn't live there.
but I won't go further from this spot till it returns.
so when you ask me to run away with you,
I only wish you could hear the sound my nails make, the scraping and scratching,
clawing at years I didn't live to see.
air I wasn't there to breath
footprints that were walked over many times before my arrival.

when you ask me to let go,
I only wish you could hear the earth telling me to stay.

you hold sparkly things like they are candles burning a timid flame
you held me like I was the flame
too hot to hold
and no not like I was some goddess you found in good faith but more like my passion was too strong for you
didn't you know that shiny new things all break the same
my flame may be the size of a cosmic flare but it burns out just as the small match you let go of years ago did
we let our ashes tell our stories for us
we promise to burn and burn and burn
but we are all burned out so what's left
what's so special in the rubble that brought you to your hands and knees?
what made you dig in the ashes?
would it hurt if I told you it was nothing at all?

There are too many things I regret telling you, darling. I regret telling you about how when I was little I nearly died in the accident that totaled my parents' Jetta. I regret mentioning that I felt like your Halloween costume was more important to you than I was. I regret that you let me convince you to help you clean your ******* room so I could feel important. I regret every tear I've made you shed and your pain is carved into my brittle bones so I know just how much I've hurt you. Honestly, I've started to realize how much of a miracle it is that you haven't changed your mind about loving a broken and battered shell of a human being wearing a smiling mask that comes off so slowly it peels away what's left of my pale, flaking skin. I'm surprised you're still interested in my thinning body and tattered soul. My name falling from your lips in ecstasy still sounds so foreign, like hearing a language you never even knew existed. You look at me like I hang the moon in your night sky, making me feel unworthy of the way you treat me, not like a broken toy but rather an ancient heirloom to be treasured and mended. I find myself tossing and turning at night wondering and worrying and whittling away at the fragile self confidence I build when I'm with you and I ******* regret. I regret not opening up and I regret the indisputable fact you could do so much better than me. There are still so many things I regret and letting you read this is one of them but these are all things you need to know and my heart is still in pieces beneath our feet. Yes, there will always be things I regret, but loving you will never be one of them.

I would like to apologize for my very **** outfit
I mean who wouldn't be turned on by my button up shirt, tights, skirt, and boat shoes
Clearly I was asking for you to grab it
I mean I was basically wearing a sign saying grab it
I deserved the anxiety attack it caused me
I 100% deserved showering for an hour to feel clean
I hope you're happy
I mean I won't forget it
If you ever need a reminder check the notes you carved into my wrist

"You can fly here"
He said with a smile.
"Oh yeah and also,
There is no Fear."
"Excuse me did I hear
You correctly?"
"Uh huh he's dead,
in this country!"
I ******* bled for this country.
If I bleed, then its country.
In the Country we in now B.
Blood is mud **** its awful G!
Remind me who is
Hermianey!?
Capture your thoughts for a spell,
We're ******* headed to hell.
Lest we turn and recant.
This little horn isn't decadent.
Given a false-precedent,
You ventured excellent
My magnificent
Molevolent "movie" makers
Do we have any takers?!
...
Earthquakes now break
with
Our
fists
And shakers

the female adolescent is beautiful
in black and white
colour loses depth
we see everything like a small puppy
isn't the what you want?
innocence?
naive little girls who can't hold their own?
who can barely stand on their own two feet?
the female is a miraculous creature
she carries herself like a feather on a cool breeze
maybe because she's so frail & the wind is so loud
oh the feeling of hunger pains on a cold winter morning
wondering if maybe im small enough now to feel the wind in my bones
freezing my enamel
wondering how many calories are in toothpaste
or the bleach we swish around in our mouths to whiten our teeth
we eat pills for breakfast
anti-depressant
Prozac
laxatives
Xanax
and hair & nail supplements
so we can look beautiful while dying
dabbling in hobbies like
shopping
buying makeup
fainting while walking to the bus stop
hunching over the toilet while top model plays in the background
shaming our metabolisms for not being able to burn through a tic tac fast enough
yelling at our doctors for claiming that our
"hearts are too big for such a small body"
boys think we dumb ourselves down to make ourselves more appealing
little do they know the number of times we bang on our heads to knock out the unclean thoughts like
food or
sleep
how our brain cells die each time we slap away our frowns & replace them with painted smiles
small dumb Barbie dolls
plastic
easily ripped apart
we hide our pain with concealer
bruised from bumping into counters
purple knees
carrying a rubber band for months till that rubber band is carrying us
slapping our wrists to warrant authority
because beauty has power over everything
measuring the space between our thighs
yanking at the skin that will never leave
measuring the space between the blade and our wrists
remembering that scars will only make it worse
measuring the space between now and never
realizing life is a thing
realizing life would be better without you
realizing you haven't weighed yourself today
gathering your fears in mason jars
collecting your tears & mailing them to places far, far away
the female adolescent is beautiful
but only in black and white

a letter came for a dead man today

and i was certain, if i looked down, i'd see a ******, mangled mess beneath me where my heart sputtered and dropped right out of my chest cavity
as  i watched, through a stranger's eyes, the pad of my thumb smear the ink of your name

the serrated p's and t's slicing open the makeshift stitches i used in vain to yank close the gaping hole left by your gravestone

five hundred and eleven sunrises I have seen without you

counting each one like I counted the letters you never wrote me

because I wrote you letters, but they never left the sweaty lines of my palms.

& i wrote you sonnets, couplets, painstaking metaphors like how my heart living inside your hands was like a telescope reaching for moons.

but that's the thing. you left mine unwound, dangling towards the ground and all that my lips held never reached your sky.

all ever i wanted was to make my stars and moons live inside your eyelids.

but my wishes were like flowers left next to tombstones, and you never brought me daisies.

five hundred and eleven mornings I’ve awoken
and found my hands disgusted with the way my body moves beneath me

and it wasn’t until you took your last breath that I started being grateful for mine

I hurt, do you see?

i could write you more than one poem about suffering, as routine as a heartbeat

the things i've done, the mistakes and places and the ways i've lost my pride and grace for the sake of sanity

i've spent too many hours weaving windflowers between my fingertips
hoping the stinging vines stealing circulation will bleed safety
hoping if I say your name enough times it’ll lose its incantation

but you were a magician
and I’ve still got too much pride to admit that I thought I could get rich on the lies you pulled from behind my ears

you told me that you loved me
you told me that you understood me
you told me that you needed me
you told me that you wouldn’t leave me

five hundred and eleven days ago I learned that the things you told me were as worthless as the promise you made to keep breathing

and now I’m second-guessing myself on the corner, begging strangers to tell me i’m worth something more than the words you imprinted on my lips

all this time I’ve spent trying to make the pieces of my shattered self fit together in the same way they did before your eyes became the reason that I opened mine

I don’t care what they say
They can’t tell me I’m wise for my age when I let you redefine the truths of my own existence

But I’ve had 511 days to rewrite this one, and I’ve got enough modesty now to tell you the truth.

when you died, you stole all the ways I ever felt validated
you had my secrets in your pockets, my innocence like an offering on your altar
when you took your own life, you did me a favor

A letter came for you today.

i ripped it up.

There will come a day
When all of the colors fade
to grey
When all of the flowers
In the garden start to wilt
When everyday is cloudy.
The headlines hold names
Of kids you grew up playing kickball with
Being killed by people who thought
That one more drink wouldn’t do any harm.
People who thought that a party
Was more important than
Everyone else on the road.

Now,
We have a four year old boy whose mama
Won’t see him graduate preschool
We have an eighteen year old girl whose daddy
Won’t see her graduate high school.
We have teachers
Who don’t know how to educate
To a classroom full of students
Who have so many questions.

But the legal limit isn’t taught in textbooks.

This isn’t whether or not you feel
That the law applies to you.
This is life or death.
This is Russian Roulette with a bottle.
This is driving blindfolded
With the music on too loud.
This is a four year old boy
Who still doesn’t understand
What Heaven is.
This is an eighteen year old girl
Who’s wearing her graduation dress
To her father’s funeral.
The dress that her father helped her pick out.
He said,
“You know, sweetheart, I always loved you in black.”


This is crying for someone
You never met.
This is military homecomings or
Babies smiling for the first time.

Except in reverse.

This is military homecomings in a box.
This is babies crying for a mother
Who cannot comfort them.
This is empty spaces in a poem
Where words should be.
This is “I just saw them yesterday.”
This is “I’m sorry for your loss.”
This is...
not knowing what the right thing to say is.
She still had clothes in the washing machine.
He had a T-Time for next Thursday.
We had a dinner reservation next Friday.
This is knowing that he will never have a birthday again.
This was not something I was expecting
I mean, who would?
Photographs can’t capture a lifetime.
They may be worth a thousand words,
But you my dear are worth so much more.