No it's fine
continue ignoring me when our eyes meet
I have nothing to say to you
but it's funny
how much I could say to her..

4 months, 121 days, 2904 hours, 10454400 seconds later,
I still think of you.

When I'm on the train, and I look into the skies, I remember how I longed to be amongst them, because that meant I would be nearer to you.

Do you remember that night,
When it was just us two, running into the woods, late at night,
The way your lips took my breathe away,
My hands would tremble as they memorized your face,
This moment, I told myself,
made up for all the gray days.

I could still feel the way the whole world stood still for a minute,
As you kissed those 3 words onto my skin,
I swear I couldn't believe it.

4 months, 121 days, 2904 hours, 10454400 seconds later,
I still havent forgotten about it.

In high school, I used to crawl
past my dad’s side of the bed so I could whisper,
at midnight, to my mom that I was leaving
and going to your place, and that I’d be back
by five in the morning, because I was that good girl
in the knee-high socks with the headband
that matched my uniform. So, I told my mom
that I was going over, watched her sleepy eyes
drift back to her pillow corner. I’d start my car,
put on that sappy John Mayer song you hate,
but know I love, and head through the center of town
on the ghost roads, driving like a memory
with four wheels and only three more miles to go.
You’d let me in the back door, careful not to shut the door
to the kitchen too tight, and we’d kiss
under the aquarium light.

I’d watch the shatters
of light split with the blades of your ceiling fan
as you’d remind me over and over again
with your words that I couldn’t stay long
while your hands pulled me in closer to your chest.

You were the first bad thing I let myself have.

I’d have to leave before your dad would get up for work,
so I’d pull on my sweatpants, wipe the makeup
from beneath the crease of my eyes, kiss you goodbye
for who knew how long it would be that time, and I’d cry
in the car the whole way home
because I knew that we were like grains of sand
in an hourglass
just waiting for our turn to fall.

Love is when you reach for her hand instead of the bottle

the flesh covers the bone
and they put a mind
in there and
sometimes a soul,
and the women break
vases against the walls
and the men drink too
much
and nobody finds the
one
but keep
looking
crawling in and out
of beds.
flesh covers
the bone and the
flesh searches
for more than
flesh.

there's no chance
at all:
we are all trapped
by a singular
fate.

nobody ever finds
the one.

the city dumps fill
the junkyards fill
the madhouses fill
the hospitals fill
the graveyards fill

nothing else
fills.

I sleep on white bed sheets
with the windows open
so the breeze can brush my face
and the rain can fall on my lips.
I sleep in the gray half-light that
washes the color from my walls.

My skin is bare, fingers tangled in
the blankets, hair drying in the
same air that dries the dew
off of the leaves.

Get drunk on dreams
crumple the sheets
ice packs and underwear
poetry, bracelets, books.

I sleep with tearstained cheeks
swollen eyes and a runny nose
and bite marks in my mouth.
I sleep with a heavy heart
and fingertips on fire.

Dizzy, fuzzy eyesight
and fantastic scenarios
played out like film in my head.

I sleep in the warmest
and coldest room of my house.
I sleep under quilts and blankets
curled up against the cold,
and I sleep naked
with the air warm against my skin.

I always sleep with a book
at my bedside
and the drapes opened
so I can see the stars.

I sleep through sunsets and sunrises
and lightning that cracks open the sky.
I sleep through delicate snowstorms
and hazy summer smoke.

I sleep by myself
and I seize the quiet
as a moment of my own,
not shared
not secret.

I sleep for life and rebirth
and tranquility,
for peace and second chances.
I sleep for mornings.

I think my disgust for the human race started in the 5th grade. My best friend and I were not popular girls, but girls bullied by everyone. Eventually it took a toll on my fragile friend, combined with her parents divorce and already being rather sensitive, and she tried to take her own life. Her mother found her hanging and got her down in time to be taken to a hospital and saved. She came back to school months later, a lot quieter and sadder than before. She began to cut. And eventually, someway or another, the other kids noticed. Noticed the cuts, discovered she had tried to take her life. And they targeted her more and more for it, bullying and harassing her nonstop. Making her wish she hadn't survived even more, until eventually she tried to **** herself once again. But she was caught in the act this time, closely observed as she was, and taken out for many months once again. When she returned, she was a zombie. She stopped cleaning herself. Stopped trying to eat. She quit taking care of herself and that was another thing for the kids to pick on her about. I tried to keep her head above the water, but as the "suicidal freaks" best friend, I was being attacked too. Soon our fellow students were drowning us both in cruel words and brutal actions and snide rumors. I was sinking down with her, but my descent was silent. Self harm in secret places. Crying myself to sleep into my pillow so nobody could hear me. Writing suicide notes in my notebook to calm myself down and remind myself death could save me from all the torture at any time. I came to realize my classmates were not children, but monsters in human skin. They had tried to **** my friend, were still killing her. And now they were killing me. Ripping away my hope for the future and any love I held for the world, pulling away my idea that people were inherently good and replacing it with the concept that people were beasts who wanted to destroy me because they could. Because the one who made us so sad we killed ourselves would be the winner of the twisted game, because our deaths would be something to laugh at, just like her attempted suicide was. It's been six years now, and some part of me is still drowning in that ocean of sadness. I haven't heard from her since her last attempted suicide, a few years ago. Because she never got better either. She's still drowning too. And the monsters? I still walk among them every day. Their eyes slide past me like I'm not even there, like they don't even remember the child they ripped out of me. Like destroying a part of me was the simplest, most meaningless thing in the world.