you've never liked the way your nose stretches when
you grin but honey if it were up to me, you'd
never stop smiling and there's something about the
way your freckles light up your face and I know
you don't like the numbers on the scale and I could
tell you that it only means there's more of you to love
but it still wouldn't be quite enough
I'd love you all the same if you were a size two or
twenty two because at the end of the day,
our hearts still beat the same
//
you've always said you envy how skinny I am and
I tell you everyday that even if you were twice
your weight, I'll still kiss you at the end of every day
and I don't think I'm perfect I hate so many things
about myself but you still think I'm worth it so at the
very least, I have be writing this for you 'cause
I love the way you hold me in your arms when I'm cold
and everyday I'm stuck on your beauty and everyday
I'm thankful that I'm lucky enough for you to be mine
//
So at the end of the day we'll fall asleep underneath the same
sky and with your even breath next to me it
won't matter that I hate my body almost as much as
you do because at the end of the day,
our hearts still beat the same

(h.l.)

I found myself back on your street today I had
lost a part of my soul last night when left me i was crying
you were yelling and it was all too much to handle and
i came back to retrieve it but it seems to broken into
too many pieces for me to fix myself
3 AM and i'm sure my parents are wondering where i am
and i'd go back home if i only knew where i was
the pieces of me lie in the trees where
we had our first kiss and i know i shouldn't go back
to missing you like before but i still let you in when
you knock on my bedroom door and i swear to myself
that i'll change the locks on my heart but you always
seem to find the key and i'm sick of falling into an abyss
when i remember our last kiss it was on 6th street under
the lampost and i'm sorry because i remember how
it felt to love you and i hate you because i still do
you broke down my every guard and defense and
now i'm questioning if it was in all in vain 'cause i can't
bring myself to care about anything anymore
i am just a shadow of the girl you used to love and
the raindrops have stopped fall from my eyes but
the real storm lies at midnight when i sleep without you
by my side
3 AM and i'm sure my parents are wondering where i am
and i'd back home if i only knew where i was
my heart is crumbling in my chest there doesn't seem to be
an antidote for the poison you have filled me with
so i go back to your street and reminisce on what it meant
to be me and i search for the rest of the pieces of my soul
but they seem to be scattered across the globe and
if only distance could mend me then i swear i'd become
a pilot and run away from the voice in my head that
tells me you love me 'cause i know it's not true
but i can't runaway when all i see is your face so i go
to the bar drink my life away try to fill the void
in my chest, avoid the bartender 'cause i'm sure you're
still friends with him
3 AM and i'm sure my parents are wondering where i am
and i'd go back home if only i knew who i am

(h.l.)

i am not pretty i am not beautiful i am not
poetry i am not music i am not inspiration i am
not good luck i am not strong i am not lucky i am
not smart i am not a relationship i am never looking back
i am mondays i am not fridays i am not red or blue or
gray or black i am not a disaster i am not a tornado
i am not a hurricane i have no eye in me
i am not captivation i am procrastination i am a constant
dark sky there is no light in me i am not honesty
i am a bundle of never ending lies i am insomnia i
am a biting insect called insecurity i am not a butterfly
i am not a night owl i am more like a tree that never grows
i am not sunshine i am not the moon i am not a star i
am an asteroid i am a college workload i am an infinite
amount of excuses and insults loving me will not
be like falling into a cocoon of warmth it will be
more like being tied to a rock in the middle of the ocean
i am not a model type skinny i am instead a bag of twigs
i am not a calm swim i am drowning i am your last shot of
***** that turns into 20 i am the penny stuck to the bottom
of a jar i am lost money i am scalding hot chocolate
i am times square i am letters i am gigantic words that you
can't pronounce i am late night studying i am your favorite
coffee shop that closes early i am not the girl that
you will spend the rest of your life happily with i am the
key to a motel door and a night you will regret i am the
one night stand you wish you could stop thinking about
i am auto correct that is never right i am the phone number you
cannot forget i am reliable i like to think about running away
but i never will spending your life with me will not be happy but
it will also never be sad because i cannot stand to see
people sad even though sometimes i am and i use big
words and if you can't pronounce them then i'll teach
you how to and i procrastinate all the time but i'll help you
be organized and i'll wake you up early so that you can
get to your favorite coffee shop and i'll warn you that the
hot chocolate is scalding hot i'll cut you off after your
last shot of ***** and i'll write you bad poetry that'll make
you laugh to make up for it and we'll spend the
entire night watching bad romance movies and cursing
love so that you can try and forget that one night stand and
because i never learned how to swim i always stick by the
life guard so i'll save you if you drown and i am not
perfect but i am also not broken; instead i am a never ending
cycle of both regret and loneliness and so much more
but i'll make sure that you'll never have to suffer any of that
because i am your july thirty first thoughts, and you are mine

(h.l.)

first;* there is a pause, there is the questioning
in you heart of if this is real or if it's a mirage
if this is your eyes deceiving you or if it is actually real,
the possibility that this could be real wills you
to move, it wills you to continue and then
there is the embrace, the bear hug and the reassurance
that yes this is real  this is real *this is real and everything
feels like it is moving in fast forward and no you are
not ready to let go you cannot  let go you can't let go
why can't you let go you moved on
you made new friends you've loved new lovers you've gone
a year without these people and yet it feels like it hasn't been
a week because soon you are surrounded by the same laughter,
the same sarcastic jokes that make you feel at home; first
is happiness and disbelief and ecstasy and surreal awkwardness
and catching up on life
//
next; next is judgement, next is meeting the people that
you didn't really miss and having to stand there
as their shaming eyes take you apart piece by piece and
analyze every flaw you've always had and the
ones that you've gained, next is hi I kinda missed you and
wow I'm not trying to be rude or anything but how long
have you been gone? next is boasting and whispered jokes
that you know are about you next is how is it like
being the first dropout next is jokes that are disguised because
they are really insults next is meeting the new girl and
finding out that she likes the same baseball team
you do and she's smarter and they like her and they've
never really liked you and you don't really care because
they're ******* but you actually do and you say goodbye
and walk away biting the inside of your cheek and willing
yourself not to break down next is reliving all the good
times and the bad times and next is internal panic attacks
and fake smiling next is pretending this never happened next
is wishing that you could go back in time and make things
better but knowing that even if you went back
it still wouldn't be better
//
finally; finally is distractedly talking to your friends as
if your insides weren't crawling finally is walking around
as if your heart wasn't shattering with each step you've made
finally is the sound of their voices echoing in your head and
finally is dropout finally is failure finally is you can't
avoid it an longer because it's time that you face the facts' finally
is not eating dinner because your appetite has
been stolen by an insect called insecurity finally is opening your
binder and going through all that you could've done
finally is going to sleep early because you have a headache
finally is trying to explain to your best friend why you
left without saying goodbye finally is knowing that you have to,
that everyone else and it's time to say goodbye too
finally is wanting to freeze everything and
not move forward because the future is a road filled with
surprise and you hate surprises and finally is going to sleep
with tear stains on your pillow, finally is waking up and
not wanting to move and only to sit in silence finally is the
ear shattering sound of your music because you cannot
stand silence finally is that study playlist you can no longer
listen to without having trouble breathing finally is that last letter
that you have lost in a binder somewhere but it
doesn't matter because you have memorized the words
finally is running and never wanting to give up and hoping
that you can run until you turn into the shadow that you are
already becoming finally is not wanting to become a shadow
finally is fighting back against all the odds
finally is becoming content finally is being happy
and finally is a fidget it is that jumpy leg that you have
that won't stop moving because of nervousness
because finally you have accepted that you are not
apart of them and they are slowly not being apart
of you either finally is making new friends and
loving new lovers finally is moving on and
never forgetting but also never reminiscing

(h.l.)

you used to love to draw, learned how to sketch when you were eight
painted me a sky full of smoke and liquor and told me this
was where happiness would always start
your inspirations were my frustrations said you never liked
my pretty face unless it was full of madness
i guess you're wish has come true because darling i'm a hopeless
addict without you, my arms are designed with the color of
your favorite wine and i know i should be happy, my
skies are full of beautiful blues but i've learned
that pain is happiness when i'm with you
he was my darkest shade of grey, my disastrous tale of love
and what happened after, you were a beautiful mistake
a terrible tragedy you carved your name on my heart and
and made your touch a weapon filled with poison i can't
find the antidote and now i'm searching desperately for all
the pieces but they seem to have all broke
and i know it's wrong to want to have you by my side,
you always made me think i was happy
but i'm starting to realize that skies are not meant be filled with
smoke and liquor and that the world would burn
with your love of fires and hurricanes of tears would
fill your beating heart with happiness and i know that
you're sick and twisted, i know that you are the very
worst thing that could have ever happened to me
and yet i cannot bring myself to say that you are black,
you my dear are the darkest shade of grey
you're a disaster, a canvas that's been broken and filled with
toxic paint, a ticking time bomb exploding every day and
for your love of fires you were gasoline although i'd rather burn
early than die later for i'm starting to find out,
i like my skies filled with smoke and liquor and hate
the way the sun shines you could have the been the worst
thing that had ever happened to me but i know, oh i know
i'm not alone, yes i know that i am the worst thing that has
happened to you

(h.l.)

"it was a very curious story of young love
and betrayal and heartache and yet, it was also
none of the above for the very inclination that it
was young love gave way to belief that of course
betrayal and heartache would follow suit, and therefore
it cannot be considered love; for love should be nothing
but pure and stained only by tears of joy. instead they
took the very name of love and ruined it; they turned
roses into violets, they turned happiness into lack thereof
and perhaps the most tragic, they never really loved at all."

his hands twitch and he starts to blink and attempts
to calm down, because it's okay, people
get nervous and this is what happens when people
get nervous but his hands won't stop twitching and it's
the one imperfect thing in this entire room, the walls
are white the people are silent the floor is
polished the chairs don't squeak and why the hell
is his hand still twitching; he starts to panic because
he can feel the bile rising in his throat, he can feel
goosebumps on his arms he can feel the anxiety
radiating like a furnace he can feel it all and he doesn't
blink, he just tries to focus on his breathing but he
can't he can't he can't he can't all he can do
is look at the boy with the twitching hands and hope that
he stops because it was ruining everything all he
wanted him to do was stop stop stop stop but
he wouldn't, he would never stop it never
stops no matter how many pills he takes no matter
how many therapy sessions he attends, there is
still that boy in the back of his mind and his hands
are constantly twitching and they don't stop they only
become distracted by the ceiling fan or the tiles on
the floor or the hanging thread on her dress or
the on and off switch and having to turn it
on and off on and off on and off on and off
four times before it feels right
nothing ever feels right anymore, it is all a matter
of becoming distracted and trying to focus
******* anything else but the boy with the twitching hands

(h.l.)

on your very first birthday, you will hear many things
you will not be able to decipher them yet but
they will echo in your ear until you go to sleep,
you will hear about how big you've grown and how
beautiful you are or how beautiful you're going to be
and the highlight of your day will be when finally you
get to cut into that delicious chocolate cake that your
aunt made you and you will run around the yard
and laugh as you trip endlessly and the big kids won't play
with you but that's okay because you're one and you
don't really understand that strange feeling in your heart
when they say that you're too little to join in on their game
of tag and everything is so confusing because
your grandmother said that you were a big girl now but
somehow you are not big enough and you won't be for
awhile but you don't really care because in that moment you
are one and everything is an adventure for you;
from the wet grass in the backyard to the weird kisses your
older brother and the girl across the street exchange
but that just makes everything ten times more interesting
and you are still protesting even though it is futile that you
don't want to go to bed and even though you are still
forced to go to bed earlier than you want, you are happy
because today you turned one years old and you are big
enough to cut the cake with some help from your
mom but still too small to play tag with the big kids and the
concept is confusing but exhilarating and you cannot wait
for the next day and as your breathing becomes more
even you succumb to the dark and fall asleep and everything
is okay because you are one and you do not know yet
that when you are five your mother will stop making time for
you or that when you are ten everyone will stop caring about
your existence and that when you are thirteen the boy in your
school that you really really like will tell you that you are ugly
and everyone else will follow and when you get to be
seventeen you will be so desperate to leave this misery called
life that you will try and force yourself to go into a
different type of sleep, the more permanent kind and your father
will say you're being an attention ***** and your
mother will start to wonder where she went wrong
and your older brother won't care because he won't find
out that you are depressed or sad until the day of your
funeral, when you are nineteen and finally asleep,
although this time; you don't try to fight it
instead you go willingly and succumb to the darkness
much like you did when you were younger and
unaware that life is not a great adventure, it
is more like a never ending hell that will make
you wish that you were one

(h.l.)

Your favorite color is green like the color of eyes
not like the color of grass
and you love playing sports but hate the outdoors
and you spent hours one day searching for a lost battery
somewhere in the park and I was there  
as always with you searching for this mysterious battery
already knowing we weren't going to find it
but not caring because it mattered to you
so it mattered to me and when you went home that day
with disappointment at the pit of your stomach
I could only try to find other ways to smile
because my lips has stretched far too much
and I couldn't express happiness the way
I wanted too when you had shown up at my house
at midnight with a deck of cards and a bottle of gin
and we played ******* and I had lost because
for some reason I could lie to everyone else but you

My favorite color is blue like the soft sweater
your aunt knitted for Christmas not like
the color of the ocean and you wouldn't know
because you don't really care and it should bother me
that you don't care but it doesn't;
like the last battery in the park,
I already know our love is one that is not
meant to exist or to be found and it would
only ever prevail on the nights where you come
to my house at midnight and on the
days that you lose batteries at the park

(h.l.)

the therapists think he doesn't remember,
they think that it is a faded memory and that
derek doesn't know what he did

but he does
he does remember, he remembers holding her in his
arms, he remember intertwining her blood covered pale
hand with his own, he remembers looking down at her
and crying and wondering what did he do?
how could he do this?
he remembers screaming in agony as he heard her last
words, "i loved you so much"
he remembers wanting to stop his own
heart from beating and he would've, he would've he swore
to god that he would and he grabbed the knife and
he was so close, so close, so close to being
dead just like his love but then she came
she stopped him, just like she always stops him, he doesn't
want to be stopped this time though
but he is and she holds him to
her chest and she whispers sweet nothings as he cries
he hated her, he hated her so much this was all her fault
all of it was her fault; she was the one who told him to do it
she was the one who gave him the knife and said it
was either her or his love and he couldn't leave carmen;
carmen was always there for him and she always loved
him when everyone else didn't so he took the knife
and he killed the one girl who understood him, the one person
who he could've gladly spent the rest of his life

the therapists all think that derek doesn't remember,
but he does, he remembers it all; he remembers being
dragged to the hospital and forced into an asylum,
he remembers the word 'schizophrenia' being repeated
over and over again to his parents and he remembers
thinking that he was insane and that's why he had to leave home
he knows he isn't crazy though, he can't be because if he were
then carmen wouldn't love him and she does, she tells
him that she does everyday and she makes sure to say it
in present tense because she knows how he feels
about the word loved

(h.l.)

i think it's funny how you tell your friends that you got
rid of me, that i am only a memory in your past that i was
such a mistake that if you see me in the street you would
turn and run the other way,
i think it's absolutely hilarious because i still
find you reading my poems in class and reminiscing
and you still text me late at night begging for me to
respond, you still tell every guy with in a mile's distance
to stay away from me and every time i'm in church you
somehow find a way to corner me and attempt conversation
with me, i think this is all one big joke,
that you are one big entertaining joke because darling
i've already gotten rid of you, and trust me you
are only a memory in my past and honey if there was
ever one mistake i made it was lending you my scarf
after gym class, i want it back by the way
and you can spin the story in any way you want,
it won't matter because at the end of the day it is still
the same old game of you throwing rocks at my window
and me tossing them back

(h.l.)

she's a bag full of twigs,
a bag full of bones and liquor
her stomach always caves in
and she walks with the weight of a gun
to her chest,
she drinks with a smile and smokes
while she thinks,
he doesn't know if there's anything
more perfect than her smooth porcelain skin
and they never thought she'd be the one
holding a gun six feet underground
but life can be hard and it's tough to just get by
and he never thought she'd leave him that
night but now she rests in the dark  
underneath the garden where they had their first kiss
he lives his life on blank canvases and dreams
of the girl who taught him how to breathe and not
a day goes by he doesn't think of her because
she's everywhere; she's that song on the radio, she's
the band on his walls, she's that picture in the hallway
she's his fear of the dark and he tries to paint her but he
can never get it right, because the girl that he loves he
never really knew and when he steps on the cracks in
the street he remembers her,
he always remembers her
remember me
because i'm a bag full of twigs,
a bag full of bones
filled with a smile of explosives
and a stomach that always caves in
i smile when i drink,
i smoke when i think
and every time i try to breathe it feels
like a gun to my chest and time is my trigger
most times it feels like i'm walking on a
rope above the water
and i can only last so long before i sink and fall

(h.l.)

he loves the way i drink my shots of whisky,
i love the way he stares at me in bed
the scent of cigarette love in the air and baby
this is just the beginning of the end
||
they say he's too cool to know me
i say i'm too young to care
because the way he drives all through
the night makes me stop and stare
||
he doesn't give a **** and his excuse is
he's young and so am i,
we're too reckless to live by the rules
and too hopeless to care about getting caught
||
he calls me bonnie i call him clyde
we love money and getting high
and if i die tonight
then give my money to my mother
and my regards to my father,
tell him i slit his throat in this dream i had
||
imagine our children,
how ****** would they be?
mommy's a ******,
daddy lives in a dream
there's nothing wrong with dreaming
though, it's the waking up that kills people
it's the waking up
that killed me

(h.l.)

pretty
hurts
but
love
hurts
more

i forgot your birthday
it was in may and i was only reminded
today when i was looking through my pictures
and so the one that we took last year,
i laughed at first because i looked ridiculous;
my hands were awkward at my side and my hair
was a disaster because of the wind but that
didn't matter because you held me tight anyway and
i cannot help but be brought back into the moment-
your hands intertwined in mine and my head leaning on
your shoulder and i remember being so excited to
watch this movie although at the end i can't even tell you
what happened because i was too busy looking at you
and you noticed because you would roll your eyes
and tell me to stop starting at you, but i couldn't
and i can't now, i can't stop staring at you in this motionless
picture, i can't stop thinking about how happy and naive
and ignorant we were i can't stop obsessing over
that dimple in your left cheek i can't stop loving you
and even though i forgot your birthday i think i cried
more today than i ever have because my worst fear
is coming true, i am slowly forgetting you and
soon you will just become another story i tell to my friends
mindlessly to waste time, i will never again have the chance
to stare at you in a poorly lit move theater and i
will never again be afraid of being caught,
what we have is completely over and i know that there is
no hope for me to hang on to anymore because i didn't call
you on your birthday and you didn't call me today, on mine
(h.l.)

one, he has rosy red cheeks and doesn't
speak yet, he is too shy but his mother loves
him and his father already has dreams of a
baseball player in mind
three, his soft brown curls are becoming uncontrollable
and his aunts coddle him and sing praises about
his long eyelashes and he speaks with a stutter that his
mom thinks is adorable
five, he has a big birthday celebration and his father
buys him a puppy and the neighbors come over and all
of a sudden he is best friends with a boy named andy
who likes to play with red toy trucks and loves to watch sports
seven, his two front teeth have fallen out and he thinks
he looks awfully strange and his older sister makes fun
of him for it but it's okay because andy has a little
sister, she is six, and she thinks he looks perfect
ten, he is going to middle school and his father is already
practicing with him because he wants to join the baseball
team (he doesn't, not really, but his father wants him to so
he does it)
twelve, andy is the most popular boy at school and he still
hasn't made the baseball team and everyone makes
fun of him for it, but it's okay because andy's little sister
isn't looking so little anymore and she says he's better than
any boy at that school
14, high school has just started and he still has that slight
lisp from when he was younger but that's fine, he doesn't
talk to any one that much except her, hannah, who isn't just
andy's little sister to him anymore
15, he's in love with hannah and he doesn't think there's
anything more beautiful than her ballet routines and the
way she shakes her hips ever so slightly and everything in his
life is a mess because he's failing science and his older sister
comes home drunk every night and his father has started coming
to his room at night and he doesn't know what to do about
it but it's okay because he has her to make everything
better, his miracle was her
16, he finds out that she doesn't think she's as perfect as
he does and she complains about how ugly she is
and no amount of light kisses to her cheek make up for it
16, he sees the scars on her thighs one day and he asks
her what it means because he refuses to believe she would
do this and he beats up andy because he knew the entire
time and didn't care
16, he finally tells his mother about his father coming to
his room at night and she cries for her husband and her son,
for both seem dead now
16, hannah goes to therapy and she's finally getting better,
he thinks she's finally getting better
16, she's not
16, he attends his first funeral two months later, the girl he loves
being buried six feet underground and her brother isn't there,
he's at a party getting drunk and trying to forget her but he won't
16, he thinks about following in her footsteps
16, he tries
16, he can't
17, he does. he finds the rope his father used
when they would go climbing together and he wrapped
it around his neck and lit himself on fire, but no matter
how many times he screamed, it didn't matter because his mother
was in connecticut, knitting with her friends, and andy was
smoking and his older sister was at college and in the
end no one cared for the boy interrupted for he
was walking on an unfinished bridge his entire life and he was
bound to end up six feet under eventually,
all the good things in life were
(h.l.)

you still sleep with the same blanket you had
when you were five and sometimes when you get
scared of thunder you walk into your closet
and cry and i know because i stayed up all night
trying to find a way for you to close your eyes
and sleep
.
you smile at the corners of your cheeks
i never thought dimples meant that much to me
until i met you and i don't know if you can
ever understand that the butterflies will never leave
as long as you hold my hand and i'm afraid of the
dark and the way people are and
i'm still finding it hard to talk to strangers but
with you by my side it's not as complicated as it usually would be
.
you're the only boy i know who wears bandannas
and hates the smell of smoke and i'm still
trying to figure out if we're meant to be but i'm learning
that finding that out is not as important as it seems
because you still have to count 10 sheep before
you sleep and your eyes travel everywhere before
they close at night and i know because i stay up all night
with you darling and there's no other place
i'd rather be

(h.l.)

there was a storm today, it was full of thunder
and lightning, it reminded me of the way you smoked
cigarettes because even though i shook every time
the lightning struck, i couldn't look away
//
i think i'm supposed to reminisce about
you being gone, i'm supposed to cry and shake
and lose my will for living because you were my
miracle, the one good thing in my life that was
supposed to make me special and now you
are gone but instead i just stare at the
windows covered with rain and wonder if the
sky is crying because the earth orbits the moon
and not the other way around, maybe the earth
is sobbing because it knows that it
is no longer special for it was reminded today that
it is only another planet in orbit
//
it was pouring rain today, it reminded me
of you, hopefully wherever you are it is raining
and you can imagine the earth shaking and the
clouds sobbing so that you can see what you've done
to me and shake your head and try to come up with
another excuse
(h.l.)

"do you have anything to say to me?"

why don't you love me?

why aren't i good enough for you?

what did i do to you?

why did you abandon me?

you've never actually loved me like you loved him

was there ever a time i didn't disappoint you?

i wish i didn't need you but i do

i love you

i wish you knew how much you mean to me

why do you want to fix me so **** badly?

sometimes i feel like a stranger in this house

i know you regret me
i regret me

i don't know if i can forgive you
i hope i can

will i ever feel like when i was eight
when you'd give me piggy-back rides and smiles?

i miss you

i'm sorry i'm not the daughter you want,
nor will i probably ever be

why don't you ever let me explain myself?

why is everything my fault?

will this barrier between us ever break?

"no."

(h.l.)

she cried, she cried because she would never be
good enough for someone else, she cried because
her mother didn't love her and neither did her father,
he loved beer and her brother more than he did her
she cried because she was so entirely alone in this world
and she had a dream once and now it was what
felt like light years away and god she wanted to end it--
she wanted to end the suffering then and there and
she could do it so easily, just one step off her balcony
she knew she was being young and dumb and naive
but in that moment she didn't care, she didn't care
because the future was what felt like light years away
and she wanted to end it all now,
and so she did

i always used to call you my james taylor
because you would write these songs
and they were written in
a special sort of ink that you bought
at some convention somewhere and
apparently, the ink was supposed permanent,
we were supposed to be permanent
but it's funny actually, how the word permanent
can disappear on a cold december night when you
happen to have too much to drink
and i happen to be on edge because you're not
acting like my james taylor anymore, instead
you have broken your guitar and you don't go
to conventions anymore and i think the last time
you told you loved me and actually meant it was
a couple of months ago in july, i remember it
because of course, you wrote a song about it, you
always used to write a song about everything but
now you have run out of your ink and i fear
that i have run out of love for the both us,
at the end of the day i was the only one who
made an actual effort but by now i feel like giving up on
you and it's strange to even think like that
because i thought i would rather crash and burn
with you than let you run away but it seems
you are no longer the boy who i love so i guess
i'll be waiting to see your ashes float upon the sea

(h.l.)

She was painstakingly too aware then of the stinging pain
that rejection brought, she was all too aware
Of the gorgeous blonde gossiping about her to him,
she was aware of how she was blaming him,
saying it was all his fault because
he always attracted female attention,
she was aware of his soft murmurs to not get upset,
she was aware of the silent i love you's he told her
with the caress of her cheek,
she was all too aware of his eyes then,
the silent apology they gave for her and she was also aware
of the pity behind them too, the look of wanting to
feel something for her and feeling terrible because he couldn't
She was aware of all of this, so she put on a shy smile
and her always useful mask of I'm fine, it's okay
and with that look given she walked out of the restaurant,
tears already slipping, her composure now a mess
and she slid her back down the wall of the alley nearby
and let it all out, she cried then because
the boy she loved was an artist, and she knew
that he would appreciate everything about
the hour glass blonde the way he would never appreciate
the twig like brunette she was and she also knew,
in her heart that he would be kind about everything,
about the whole thing and that tomorrow in art class
when she told about a boy named Elliot that
she met on the way home, he would pretend it was true
because he was kind and wonderful and patient and
everything she wasn't, he was the opposite of her,
and that she supposed was the very reason
that they could never be together,
because he was an artist and his job was to
create catastrophe on a canvas and have others marvel,
his job was not to fix disasters like her in real life,
that was the job of fiction stories because
in real life he would try, until the end of his days,
to paint happiness unto her with vibrant reds and cool blues
but she could not be fixed and that was the thing
that he would probably never understand
which was precisely why they had to stay away,
he had an aura of happiness that made others
want to live and being with her would break him
which was why she figured he painted curvy blondes
instead of skinny brunettes and it would have to stay that way,
because she was oil and he was water,
and being with her would strike such a fire in his heart
that would only be capable of leaving embers of ashes
so that is why she would walk to bus stop that day,
with a heaviness in her heart, but also an understanding,
an understanding of why disastrous girls like her
could not love happy artists like him,
for the sun and the moon would
destroy earth if they ever loved each other

(h.l.)

the sad part of it all was that he still saw
it, he could picture it in his mind, all of it
the flames, the burning of it all; the screaming
the shouts of leave right now, run, they're coming
he could see his mother escaping into the
painful abyss of death as she was shot, he could
remember her cries, her plead to leave her
alone, he could see it all and he could feel it too
he could feel chubby and familiar fingers
grabbing his and he could feel the ache of his legs
from running too hard and his lungs
felt like collapsing, he could feel the sense of chaos,
he could feel the weight of death pressing against him,
wanting him to give up, willing him to stop
but he couldn't because he could still see his seven
year old brother pulling him, he could still see
her even though she was five and he was just six,
he could see her as clear as the very image
of the burning, of everything and it willed him to fight, to
keep going, and so he did

(h.l.)

whenever i paint my nails i cannot help but
be reminded of the way you smoked cigarettes
because the fumes of the nail polish are
terribly toxic and yet i crave it because
some nights we would stay up all night--
you getting high on your cigarette daydreams
and me getting high on how happy you looked
with a death stick in your mouth,
i should've stopped you
i should've been there next to you, at the very
least in the back of your mind a warning, you
should've thought of me, you should've cared,
you should be right here next to me,
laughing because i got nail polish on my hand and
teasing me about how i should just give up
you should not have been driving home that night, you
should've known, you should've stopped--
months before that, you shouldn't have even
began drinking or smoking or even driving
for god's sakes you were only fifteen
and so was i, i was only fifteen, much too young
to fall in love, and much too stubborn to care

whenever i paint my nails i cannot help but
be reminded of you inhaling smoke from your
marlboro silver cigarettes and i cannot help
but make a mistake and stop midway and scrub it all
off because you are no longer there to tease me
about how i should just give up and i can no longer
get high from the image of the boy sitting on my
window sill, for he is now dead

(h.l.)

and the flower crown you gave me
is in the garbage along with all our pictures
and any proof that you actually existed
because it does not seem fitting to me,
to keep flower crowns and hand-written letters
as if you'll come back or as if any of it actually
meant anything to you--
it does not seem fitting to me to keep a flower crown
when you did not keep me
it does not seem fitting to me, to keep a flower crown
when our relationship was based all on thorns

(h.l.)

i fell in love with this boy who would paint the
horizon into a stanza, and the moon
into a phrase and he had hazel eyes and
a beautiful smile and i used to count the minutes
until i could see him and feel his warm embrace

you are no longer him

you are no longer him, the boy who wrote me
songs and you rarely write poems anymore and
it's been a while since you've said you loved me
and meant it, and so that i suppose is why i
must let go of you my darling
because i have been craving and loving and
missing someone who i wasn't meant to love,
and in the end i suppose i did only
love you for the words you spoke, the image you
so clearly conveyed, and the memories
that still make me smile to this day

i fell in love with someone who is not you, and i have
spent a long time trying to figure out why i was
so stuck on your love, so attatched to who you were
but then i realized you would never again be
the boy who's poetry i would tattoo on my skin
and who's songs i would scream at the top of my longs
you are no longer him and i am no longer the
carefree, naive innocent girl you fell for either
so i suppose i can forgive you for changing because
i only did the same

forgive me though, because i still dream sometimes
about you and i, and i secretly hope you do too
though perhaps it would be for the best if you didn't
for wilted flowers are better off dead than barely alive

(h.l.)

he said his favorite color was blue because
that was the color of the sky and his mothers'
wedding ring which was the only thing that
survived the fire and he keeps the ring around his
heart so that whenever he is feeling down,
he can always remember the color blue

she said her favorite color was red because she liked
to light things on fire and she was the
heartbreak girl that burned everything she
touched and you can tell that's she's coming your way
because the first thing that you think of when you see
her is red

he wanted to disappear into the ocean, because he
was calming waves of serenity and peace but
she wanted to burn bright like the star she knew she
was born to be, and she did; she was the wild card,
the indigo of the world and she burned everything
she touched, everything she loved until one day all
that was left of her heart was a pile of ashes

he said his favorite color was indigo because that
was the color of her engament ring, the one that he
had bought her the day before she burned alive and he
wears it around his chest now so that whenever
he feels like a burning red, he had her in his heart
to keep him a steady indigo

(h.l.)

you called me last night, you were crying and drunk
and you said that you regretted everything, that you
were ever so sorry, and i almost let myself slip for a
moment, i almost said it was okay, that i forgave you
but i kept my guard up and just forced myself to go to sleep
until you called me again later that night,
by then i couldn't help it, i told you i loved you back
and you just hung up the phone

(h.l.)

i.
you used to be the one that made my heart skip
beats and make the butterflies in my stomach erupt,
although now those butterflies are as wilted and dead
as the flowers you gave me the last time i saw you
ii.
i think the worst part is knowing that you are still
on the same shipwreck i warned you to stray from, that
you are still so heavily dependent on the same thing
that broke us, that you still love your cigarettes more than
you will ever love me, or her, or anyone and that
at the end of the day your drugs will burn powerful flames
that will last more than my love for you
iii.
i like to think that we would have given up on each other
sooner or later, that if it wasn't the drugs then it would've been
because of school or distance or because of him or because of her
but the truth is that all those pointless fights were just rocks
not mountains and we could have had it all, but you were more
hung up on cigarette daydreams then on true love
iv.**
i don't think you ever understood that when i said i would
crash and burn next to you, that it didn't mean i wanted too and that
while i could start fires with what i feel for you i would much
rather leave you now before i become a pile of ashes

i like the feel of your hand in my and chipped
nail polish because you always make fun of me for
it and the way you smile at me then, like
you're trying so hard not to laugh
fills me with a kind of eternal happiness that
i crave and maybe that's why i like writing
your name on my hand because it reminds
me of sumshowers and accidental kisses-
it reminds me of hide and seek in the rain and bear hugs
and the ever changing color of your braces,
it reminds me of central park and late night
conversations and coffee and indigo and music and
snowball fights and wildflowers and--
you
writing your name on my hand makes me happy
because it reminds me of all the memories
i have with you and it wills me to make even more
until then though, i'll just keep writing your name on my hand
(h.l.)

some people don't believe in ghosts,
but i am not one of those people,
because you are a ghost
in every sense of the word
//
whenever i close my eyes, i
do not see black anymore instead i see
your body strung up in your closet
with your eyes closed, as if you were at rest
i don’t know where you are but hopefully you
are getting some rest because i am
tearing myself apart because it doesn’t seem like
you’re gone
the curtains they’re half opened just like you left it
the kitchen is still a mess
the coffee stain that you promised to clean up but didn’t
is still there and i swear when i close my eyes and then
put my head on your pillow i can still hear
your even breath against my neck
and those are the only nights i ever get any sleep
so excuse me for thinking you’re not gone
because in my mind you aren’t
you’re still there next to me on the coach
and you are still complaining about how unrealistic everything is;
you are still next to me and i know that because i am telling you to
shut up, shut up, shut up
my therapist says that it’s my brain’s way of
coping with pain but that doesn’t make any sense to me
because my heart is still beating
and if my brain really wanted to cope with pain it would
shut down, it would collapse; like your body did when
it couldn’t handle the pain
because let me tell you something: i can’t handle this pain
this never ending torture of dancing delicately around the fact that
you are dead and i am very well alive even though
i don’t want to be, even though my hands have no purpose
without holding yours, my arms
nothing but useless props anymore and that is why
you are very well alive in
my mind because if you weren't i know that i would collapse


some people don't believe in ghosts,
but i am not one of those people,
because you are a ghost
in every sense of the word.

(h.l.)

when i first met you i was shy and still wore
pink and had an uncanny obsession with
sweaters and you had smiled at me so warmly that
i couldn't help but have smiled back because
you looked so happy
//
when i first realized i was in love with you it was
a warm july sun and a humid air and you were
laughing as i rambled on about a book
that i can't remember the title of but
god, i had never thought that people could look beautiful
under the horizon because the sky was too distracting
but on that particular day, i'm sure the horizon was jealous
of how light your hazel eyes looked and how deep your dimples were
i laid awake that night, thinking about your smile
and how happy it made me, and how terribly bittersweet
this was going to be
//
when i look at you know, i do not see the sun-kissed
boy with laughter in his eyes and a permanent smile on
his cheeks, i see a shadow of the boy i used to love and
sometimes i wonder if i should care at all that you're sad, because
you never seem to care when i am, though i suppose that is what
love is itself, loving somebody so unconditionally that
even when they laugh and mock you, you would still cry with them
the very next day
//
although then again, i'm sure you don't know what love is

i really hate you i do i know i do because
every time i hear your name my blood boils and
there is a scream begging to be released stuck in
my throat and ******* if you look at me one last time
i'm not sure what i'll do because no,
you do not have the right to play with my emotions
you do not have the right to tell me you love me and
then leave you do not have the right
to

make

me

fall

in

love

with

you
no, no, no

you do not have the right to only talk to me when you
feel like it or when you feel insecure because honey, i can
love you in all those times, but you do not have the right to
tell me that you love me too

especially if you don't

and when you run your hands over
the concave of my stomach
and feel my ribs poking out, like unwanted monsters
please do not question it, please pretend like
it is not there; ignore the feel of my thighs and my
bony legs are nothing to worry about
i'm okay, darling you worry too much
i'm just a little underweight
i wish you knew, that i am okay, there's nothing wrong
with me trust me, i know that you think that i'm light but
that's because you can't see what i do, you don't see what i
do, you don't see that i am a mess, an imperfect
unworthy creature next to your angel like stance
and i wish you could see it, i really do because
maybe then you'd understand why i am who i am and you're
beautiful sweetheart, you are and all i want to do
is catch up, i want to be that person you deserve and
i will be soon, don't worry
i'm just a little underweight that's all,
a little underweight

it was michael's sixth birthday and he had on a suit
and a spiderman tie, his mom had gushed
over how handsome he was, but he didn't feel handsome
he felt so much pressure with the suit on and
he didn't like it at all
//
today michael was 13 and he stared at himself
in the mirror, questioning his reflection
he had stolen his older sister's skirt because he thought
she looked pretty in it, and he wanted to look pretty
too, and he does; he thinks he looks beautiful
the wonderful moment in ruined however by the
squeak of the door and the utter shock on his mother's face
//
michael's sixteen and biting his lip he had never felt more pretty
in his entire life, he had bought a dress with the excuse it was
for his "girlfriend" and he has tried it on and it fit like
a glove and michael cried suddenly because
he knew that this was the last time he would ever wear a dress
and feel special
//
at michael's funeral he is dressed in a black and white suit
with a blue tie, and all anyone could think
was what a shame, of course if michael were alive
he'd be thinking that he would probably look prettier
with a skirt on, and if only people would've accepted that
then he probably would've been there to say it

(h.l.)

you asked me the other day what depression felt like
and i told you that it was like drowning but
you could see everyone else around you breathing;
you stared at me then, pity in you eyes
but also wonder almost as if you were seeing
an artifact in a museum, you looked at me
that way because i had not told you the rest
i didn't tell you how close i came every night to
giving in to the voices in my head or how
whenever i was scared i would run a knife along my arm;
not to cut myself with it but to feel the cool against my skin
i did not tell you that my life became a movie flashing
before my eyes that night i accidentally drowned and
how it took six months of Death knocking at my door
for me to stop and to realize that this was a problem
i didn't tell you any of that because then i knew your eyes would
widen when you realized that the same sweater paws
you would tease me about were there for a reason and then
you would look at me, with understanding in your eyes and
sadness too because then you would realize
that i wasn't an artifact in a museum or a war veteran
i was just a girl with large sweater paws and a tight lipped smile

so maybe it is better for you to believe that i am an artifact
because maybe then i could still wear sweater paws
without you questioning me too much

(h.l.)

i
have
not
formed
a
coherent
thought
since
i
met
you

there are sounds, i can hear that much if i pay attention
but that's all i can hear anymore besides your
voice in my head and you breathing is still ****** into my
memory
sometimes, when it gets really cold i can still feel your
warm embrace around me and your heartbeat echoes in my
mind like a tune that never stops playing and
i don't know whose fault it was anymore at
this point all i know is that i miss you
i miss you
and not in the way i thought i would,
i do not miss you with heart-wrenching sobs and
an inability to breathe
i miss you with careless sighs and haunting photo albums
and an inability to live because you had
become such a permanent part of my life that
i didn't even notice you anymore you were like
a fresh inked tattoo that grows old and doesn't fade
until one day you wake up and you
realize it was all temporary
tattoos start to itch and they become a menace,
maybe i was a menace and yet somehow
i can't bring myself to have enough pride to
guard myself up again, i still slip everyday when you say hi
i say hi back and i promised myself that i wouldn't
respond the next time you called but i know
that in the end i will because i can't help it
*i miss you

i
am
stuck
in
a
perpetual
state
of
not
wanting
to
care
and
caring
too
much

­(h.l.)

a boy, on the corner of Confused and Lonely
holds a cigarette in his hands, unsure of what to do
but hopeful that it'll make him happy;
because at the end of the day that's all anyone
ever wants to be
a girl, lipstick smudged, sunglasses broken and wearing
a shirt that was much too small, her image screams help
but apparently the rest of the world is deaf when
it comes to these types of things
they meet at Sunset Blvd. where women wear
skirts high and the men get even higher,
she's stumbling home; not drunk, but not sober
and the boy asks her if she's okay, she says yes
he then asks her how to light a cigarette because
it's been a week and that pack is burning in his pocket
screaming to be used and he had watched
a commercial on t.v. the other day but it hadn't changed his mind
so here he was, desperate to find out how to
light a ******* cigarette because if he doesn't even
know how to do that, then what hope does he have?
she said one word, a whisper almost and if they
were anywhere else he might not heard her but
he does, he hears the word as clear as church bells
don't
he responds with the question they both have
why?
and she shakes her head and smiles, still
dazed from the alcohol in her veins and says simply,
"because," and maybe it's because she looks like a mess
and he's lonely and confused but somehow that because
turns into endless long reasons not to as they both
fall into each other, madly and deeply

he asks her on her last day, how to light a cigarette
his voice shaking, his intentions clear
she responds with a clear don't
he asks her again why,
and she says "because," but sometimes
not even that is enough

(h.l.)

beyonce

well okay so
apparently you're never going to see these
because you deleted the app off your phone and
so i would like to formally say goodbye to all of our conversations
like i know this is really silly
but just seeing that i was talking to you made me so happy.
it's like you're this constant ray of love in my life
(even though i know you don't love me) and i just always loved reading our old conversations, they make me happy
but now you're off to boarding school and
as much as you might say you'll keep in contact i know you won't;
it's inevitable.  so i figure, why let all of our old conversations lay there
as if they matter that much anymore to you,
why taunt myself with them?
even if they made me happy sometimes it's better to
let go of things before they destroy you. so i will.
and hopefully we can still have more conversations in the future,
when you're signing books in Barnes' and Nobles
and you glance up to ask who to make this out to
(make it out to Heather Leather by the way if you can still remember what it means)  and you see me, maybe then
we'll talk to each other in an old cafe and catch up on life.
although i doubt this will ever happen,
I like to dream about these things;
they make me happy when i feel scared or alone.
but until then, until we meet in barnes' and nobles' and
go to central park for coffee; i guess this is goodbye to all our late-night conversations and endless lines of poems and songs.
i have loved you in a friends-way, in a not-so-friends way and in a i-don't-know-what-this-is-but-it-makes-me-happy kind of way. and while i don't like to talk about loving people in the future, i will say this
if there is one person that has ever aggravated me so much it is you,
and if there's ever a person i will regret not knowing in the future,
it is also you. and if i end up being a good person in the future
(which i hope i will be) know that it is highly possible that
i will love you because you have made me a better person, a better poet, and perhaps most importantly, a happier person.
so i guess this wasn't a goodbye to only our old conversations,
maybe it was also a goodbye to the past you and me,
and while this isn't the last time i will talk to you in a long time
(can't get rid of me that easily)
this will probably be the last time that i
read our old late night conversations about food and poetry
and songs and how much you love Lana del Rey and how i
am obsessed with 5 seconds of summer
and so goodbye to that,
it was good while it lasted,
and hopefully we will create many more late night conversations
but until then, goodbye to the jokes we laughed at,
the homework we cried over, and the music we argued about
yours truly,
heather

p.s. i love you to the moon and back
p.p.s: it was an honor having my heart broken by you