When you first look her in the eyes and admire the way they shine in the moonlight,
look deeper than the iris and drown in her pupil
as it is dark and it is deep, and it is similar to that of the Marianas trench itself.
When you get deep inside her brain, you will see the monsters that man cannot at first glance.
It gets so somber that your heart will get heavy and your palms will sweat,
you will repeatedly want to turn and you will want to run away,
but don’t.
Because these thoughts are not demons after you,
they are attacking her relentlessly and while she does not need a hero,
a helping hand won’t hurt.
She is not helpless, but she is also not safe
and she is afraid, and she is hiding from them.
So when she flinches away from your touch,
be gentle.
Like the breeze she feels when she opens her window on a late August night to feel something other than the stillness of her room
and to remind herself she is not just imagining her existence.
Remember that she has been through her share of nightmares like you, and while some may not be as bad, they are incredibly real to her.
Remember that she needs someone to love just as much as you.
Do not think this is a demand you love her when she has no one else,
just open your mind and your heart because that skinny girl with tired eyes is one of the most beautiful you’ll ever meet
and you will remember her for years to come.
Please, be gentle for she is fragile.
She is cracked, but has been dropped and broken so many times, the pain is not as bad,
the hurt is not such a surprise.
Do not let her be surprised if you stay when she expects you to go, because she will,
she will assume, she will get weak and she will picture you leaving when she needs you most
or she will try to push you away,
but remember her smile and remember her face because every actress is told they have so much to love but that does not mean they are all in bliss.
You’re the polish on her scuffed up shoes,
you’re the sun peeking through her blinds on a cool summer morning,
you’re the reminder that it will all be okay,
So long as you don’t run.
When you meet a girl
with shaky hands and a faint heart,
remember that she can get stronger again.
You are not her crutches, but you are support.
Do not think her life depends on you, because it doesn't.
Never put that on yourself.
You are not a superhero, but you can be her helping hand
If you remember
that it’s alright to stay.

I’m scared, too.

It's easy to get obsessed with something
that isn't good for the self.

For me, it was you.

You were that ****** song,
I couldn't get out of my head.
That type of chocolate,
I could never get enough of.
Those hours I overslept.
That escape I found,
every time I wept.

Those day dreams.
Those feelings.
That smile.

None were good for me,
yet that is what I'm craving.

One full bowl of chilli,
at least two dozen saltines,
one hot dog, and
two handfuls of chips later,
I vow not to eat tomorrow.
I had two small chicken tenders
and a bottle of carbonated orange juice at lunch,
and half an hour later
I was hunched over in a bathroom stall
and my mouth tasted of stomach acid and regret.
I ate once yesterday
and the same thing happened.
I know it's unhealthy,
I know it can **** me,
but all the same the only thing on my mind
is how much I regret eating so much.
I know it's unhealthy,
I know it can **** me,
but all the same
I find a strange sort of comfort
in knowing that I'm at least strong enough to control my appetite.
I know it's unhealthy,
I know it can **** me,
but all the same I can't get enough
of this self-hatred
spilling out of my mouth,
tinted with the taste of last hour's meal.

Surely it isn't healthy
to be this attached to someone
who has only ever called me beautiful
when his mind was soaked in alcohol

-h.w.

You make my skin crawl
In a neutral way.

You make me leave the room
Then wish I had stayed.

I think ill of you
Half off the day.

Yet I cling to every harsh
word that you say.

With you I'm either weak
or a raging *****.

Even though you're the one
with a tiny ****.

Crossing paths with you
lights my mind on fire.

Yet your not someone I've come
to love or admire.

Your an imperialistic
**** worshiping ****.

So someone please explain why
I feel like the schmuck.

I've been pacing for seven years now
Dug myself into a deep dark trench
The worst part about it is I've known about it but i couldn't stop
I know when things are important but i struggle with the motivation to give a single ****
It's not a term i use lightly
I want to but it's easier to run
But I've backed myself into a corner and given my past a loaded gun
Regrets are heavy
Placed so delicately on my shoulders day by day
But my knees are getting weak
It's like getting stabbed over and over again with a dull knife
It'll never penetrate but it still hurts right
I'm slowly losing this fight
It never fails to haunt me
Every single night.

I'm not afraid I'm just weak.