I wrote my way out of the dark pages of my life.
I know what it's like to see your life hanging by a thread;
scraping your skin with your fingernails to stop yourself from crying;
weaving scars on your skin to get some high out of life.

Smiling on the outside, but tearing up on the inside.
I've been there,
disguising last rites as declarations of love;
holding out for that one guy for some unjust reason.
I was once told I was beautiful on the inside,
I used to scoff at that thought.
I couldn't be beautiful,
my metaphorical skin was sewed and patched, ruined and defiled
and there was nothing beautiful about that.
It took me a while to see that beauty for myself.
I was once that one girl sitting in corner at midnight
contemplating suicide over family tiffs, unrequited love, loss, loneliness, and every other
stuff that I couldn't deal with.
I can't look at my left wrist
without feeling some sort of disgust because of the tallies of pain
I left behind.

I had this habit of saying 'I'm always good' whenever asked
but I got tired of seeing illusions as reality,
I was tired of escaping my own life. I was not okay and I needed help.

I wish somebody had told me
this sooner:

MELANCHOLY IS NOT TRENDY, DEPRESSION IS NOT COOL,
CUTTING IS NOT A FASHION STATEMENT
SADNESS IS NOT ATTRACTIVE

It's actually sad that we,
teenagers,
advertise sadness as if it's something to be proud of.  

YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL
YOU DON'T NEED VALIDATION FROM PEOPLE
DON'T LET HIM TELL YOU HE LIKES YOU BETTER WHEN YOU'RE BROKEN.
NO, SCARS DO NOT MAKE YOU ATTRACTIVE
SOME SCARS AREN'T WORTH HAVING
CRAZY IS NOT ****
**** IS NOT ALWAYS ****** SHEDDING A FEW KILOS WON'T MAKE HIM LIKE YOU ANY MORE THAN HE DOES
UNHEALTHY RELATIONSHIPS DON'T HEAL --words I wish I'd  heard sooner

You are not broken beyond repair

YOU ARE A PHOENIX,
A PHOENIX MUST BURN TO EMERGE.

I am sorry*

We shared those words today
I no longer worry about the shade of our hands
Come Dawn
Love still connects us
Bridge building is slow
Worth while to the persistent
To the patient
Compromise
We are not compatable through
Religion. Philosophy. The Soul.
However, for us, music still stands
Classic rock and 70's disco fever
High pitched BeeGee's
Crooning Zepplin while deer watching
That connection alone binds us
Much less the love of mountains
Cold lungs on frosty mornings
Hunting for dinner with bow, with arrow
I have missed you
Wasted time stretched between us
No longer
Happy Father's Day

breathe.
because you know what you
do when someone ***** you
over? you calmly take your
heart out of their hands
and leave. you think maybe
you'll sew it back on to
your sleeve but not now, not
today. you put their things
in a box (their cds, their
shirts, their books, their
notes, the little things you
picked up on your dates)
and you put it on the
highest shelf in your
closet, because someday
you will want to remember
them, maybe. if you don't
want to remember them, you
give them the box, you
donate the box, you throw
the box in the river. and
you breathe. because you
deserve better. you deserve
someone who doesn't consider
you a fallback, a plan b.
you will be someone's plan.
you will be the only plan.
you will be my-god-what-
was-i-doing-before-you-
walked-around-that-
corner. remember that
you are enough.
breathe.

I want him.
Bare backed, muscle clawed, miracles clenched in fingertips.
Bruises on legs, cuts on fingers, and every, other, bone, that ,
Is exposed to nature.
I want him.
Kisses in the morning, lightly snoring, breathless words,
As he sleeps.
Dreaming of better days.
I want him.
Mud crusted fingernails, face flushed, arctic breath,
Head frowned in concentration,
To tell me what he has read.
I want him.
Morning enlived, running abandoned, feet askew,
Eyes are open wide, wider, widened,
To tell me of that I do not see.
I want him.
Dancing enraptured, limbs snaked, head weightless,
Circle turning, arms led to mine, enclosure,
To remind me of what is, safe.
I want him.
Body *****, skinless, shirtless free,
No thing has an ounce of him, no thing,
Except, my want of him.

I would hold back
the sea with my
bare hands

If you asked

My lungs were corrupted by the lies that hang around you.
My heart was torn by the hands that touched them (yours).
I smoke to fill my lungs with something other than the remnants of your lies.
And my heart is locked away so others cannot touch it.
You have destroyed my insides without my consent, so now I will continue the destruction but this time it will be by my own terms.

I remember the pain.
I remember crying my self to sleep every night for months.
I remember not being able to breathe when I thought of you.
I remember comparing everything to you.
I remember pretending I was happy.
I remember realizing nothing would ever be the same.
I remember remembering our love.
I remember figuring out I would never stop loving you.
And I still haven't.
You have the greatest power over me.
I would do anything for you.
Always have.
Always will.
You wouldn't do the same for me.
Never have.
Never will.
But I still love you
Because I remember
Who you are.
Who you were.
I remember the look on you face after our first kiss.
I remember the beating of your heart when I laid my head against your chest.
I remember the warmth of your body against mine in the cold autumn air.
I remember the taste of your lips.
I remember the sparkle of your eyes.
Most of all I remember what it felt like to love you and have you truly love me back.