why does my jaw
drop at white guys
with joggers and
backwards baseball caps?
or at some basic uni boy
who hasn't got it
on with a black
girl yet...
why is it so
surprising to me
that they hit and run
and leave absolutely
nothing? yet they beg
me to stay when their exclusive
bae finds a new party
or some casual *******.

i am not your princess
you should not be holding on
to me
i am not your savior
you should’ve know that...
i can’t even rescue me
you wanna broken girl
till you wind up in her world
till you end up breaking glass and dishes
because her ambiance is fading
and you can’t meet any of her
hundreds of wishes
you wanted a broken girl
that’s what you said
you wanted a broken girl
to escape your own head

i feel like i'm
only good enough
when i'm *******
somebody,
                   some man,
some one,
                   some ungrateful ****,
just for fun.
one that will forget about
me once we're done,
or he's done, but that
won't matter
because he won't
tell any one.
unless he's one of
those who just can't
move on.
or one who insists that it
didn't matter to him
or any of his previous failed loves.
every so often, he will give me
the option of not lying on my stomach.
so i don't have to bite my tongue for
the sake of his own blood and his
poor unfortunate soul.

i will watch you
  endlessly, hopelessly, and gradually
i will hide you from the evils of
  the world
i will not forget that they can hide
  next door
or on your bedroom floor
   even if your daddy's little girl.

how did i do it
how did i keep it in for so long?
a covered, zippered mouth told no one.
they know not of the late nights
that featured sharp bites from metal
teeth before daylight.
or the constant replays
of your love bites
that i continuously hid
on weekdays for your sake, because
my parents hatred for you went
both ways.

i never knew that
i'd wear jealousy
so well
that my veil would
perfectly match my
broken in heels
or that my eyes would be smoked
with various fumes
or that when i spoke
your world would continue
to move
unlike the first time
that i met you.

my only fear is that
there will be too much
in my system,
and they will find every
trace of you.
lingering through the veins
of complications that we
both once knew.
since my body won’t
absorb all of you,
the high will consume me,
ease the pain
then release various endorphins
that i forgot i had made.
it will fill me with
would be’s, should be’s, and could be’s.
then leave me on the ground, flat lined.
constantly reminding,
that the only reason you are not here
is because of me.

you’re out here
making me look
foolish.
denying what the truth is,
like you really didn’t do it.
like i’m some petty *****,
who just couldn’t move on
through it.
like i’m the one who was
doing the other wrong,
when it was you who was
constantly leading me on…
you’re acting as if you weren’t
swiping through tinder
all night long…
like i never saw the messages
before you moved your arm.
as if i had no reason to leave
you on read…all semester long.
but if you need me to list them
i’ll give you an abundance of ‘em:
i had left before you had
discussed your views of
me with your homies,
who had uncontrollable *** tendencies.
before you began to imagine
all those matches on their knees
praying for your drunk sanity.
before you decided to tap
two days before you suddenly
saw it heading downwardly.
and all those nights where
you thought you had me oblivious
to all that you had attempted
to conceal. and even before
your little homies stated:
c’mon dude its college
forget how she feels…
but boy please, i knew it all…
and i had left long before
our kisses and your bed
grew cold.