My mother always said:
“Date someone who loves you more than you love him. That way, he will never leave you”
As if, being alone was worse off than being stuck ******* a man I feel nothing for.
As if, I was expected to trade my happiness for stability.
As if, my love was not strong enough on its own.

As if, my worth was something that could only be measured out in transactions—
in dozens of roses
—I hate roses.

But he who loves me more
believes that I am perfect
so its okay
because perfect girls love perfect things like roses
…which are red.

and passion is red, and **** is red
so he measures out his love for me in vases and bouquets of roses
…which are red

and violets are blue,
but so are bruised egos
and mine is too damaged to tell him
that I can’t love him like Im supposed to.
because my mother always warned me not to.

i am sexually attracted to pencils.

Building walls
Impenetrable
To everyone
Except you

I allow you in
Just so you
Can tear me apart
From the inside out

"Write about the most courageous
thing you have done and how it
relates to the novel"

She said,
But after hours of
pondering
He couldn't think of anything
Brave he had ever done

And, by the time the deadline
was approaching
All of his memories were
swirling around his mind in a
big blur of brown confusion
And not a single one of them
an act of bravery

But, finally, amidst the chaos
he managed to write
three words.
three words that made up
the entirety of his essay
And those words were:

*This is bravery.