thoughts
like little bugs
pesky things
creeping around your head
leaving bites and sores
*i am selfish
i am toxic
i am not worth it

I am
Painfully confused,
Floating lost somewhere
Between wanting you to be happy
And feeling tossed aside.
I am searching desperately
For shore.

You've forgotten me
And I am truly abandoned
In your eyes
I've disappeared
It's not hard, really
I'm invisible
It's one of my little magic tricks
Like hiding my tears with silence
And laughing when I'm torn

Razors and craft knives
Pictures of withering people
Cigarettes and alcohol and you

Your voice lilts dangerously
Your way with words is deadly
Drawing me back in to
LOVE YOU HATE YOU LOVE YOU HATE ME
Dropping too fast to follow with your
(beautiful, hazel, misleading)
eyes
Thanks for the hit
I needed the poison

It's getting late on the clock that times  the relapse into my usual state of slow self-destruction
I wanna burn up like the ash that falls from the cigarettes which tempt me
I dream about choking on the smoke, fantasize about not being able to breathe
And run my fingers over the bottle of ***** hidden in the back of the freezer
Sometimes it's not enough to draw sharp edges over thinly veiled veins
Sometimes the secret to breaking the numbness leads to you sitting heavy on your knees on the ***** bathroom floor
And you flood out the taste of bile with the taste of smoke
More for the rush than the nicotine

I will give you
My heart
My trust
My whole being
My love
My hands will remain outstretched for you
Through years and years and impossible infinities
My overwhelming affection will remain long after my lifespan
You are welcome to fall into my embrace
(But you won't
It's okay
I know
No one ever will)

Distance is physical,
Time is mearly a concept,
And our hearts are so much stronger
Than these silly things.
I can feel the powerlines
That connect us across the miles,
Energy surging through them
Just like you and me.
We are the brilliance of the stars concentrated.
We are stronger.

I sit down to write you symphonies,
Write for hours on end.
You fill my thoughts endlessly,
So I write you books of poetry
And whole novels about my daydreams.
I sit down to spend hours sketching every detail of your face-
I have it memorized, it's true.
Then I shall sit and wait for an outcome
For an eternity. Or two.

There is a voice in the back of your head that whispers,
"This used to be easy."
Well, it started as a whisper.
Lately it's been so loud you swear you can hear the echos in the hallway back to your bedroom.
"You didn't even feel it."
You close your eyes, ignore the pangs, pull your blankets closer.
"Remember how they praised you?"
Try not to be so aware of the way your body presses, the way your clothes press into your body, ill-fitting.
"You're failing, you used to be so good."
You realize you've started making a mental list of everything you've eaten today. You're not sure when you began. Everything looks so much bigger in your memories.
*"This used to be so easy."

I don't want to come to this conclusion
Change my mind
I'd still do anything for you
I don't know how to let go
And I don't want to

I hope I live to see lazy mornings
To wake up to your face, hair falling all about it
Soft sleeping expression
Beautiful and gentle
Like the sunlight filtering through the curtains

I hope I live to see lazy mornings
To move the stray wisps away from your face and stroke your cheek
Hold you closer
Warm, like the blankets I used to cling to when I was lonely

I hope I live to make you breakfast
And to kiss your smile
Pull you back to bed to watch movies
Like nothing matters but our own little world

And you fit right in my heart
With fairy lights
And good books
And lazy mornings
And the sunlight filtering through the curtains
Kissing your skin

how do you stop lying to people
when the lies are for their good?
yes mom, i've been out of bed today.
yes love, i promise i've eaten today.
those are
all
old
scars.
what am i supposed to say?
i think i want to die again today?

i'm afraid
we
never
made
sense
don't call me back
i'll break my own heart again
don't look me in the eyes
i don't wanna fall again

one day you will stop making names for people-
sky, dream, memory-
one day you will set these attachments aside
one day you will shut down like you've always needed
one day isolation will feel like a warm embrace, and you will be safe
one day you will stop falling in love with anyone who gives you their time to waste
one day you will finally accept that your feelings are too intense to be returned
and when this day comes you'll be okay

skinny is like a drug
take a hit and you can't get enough
i spent two whole years feeling hollow
making excuses, taking pills
"recovery" is a full plate
instead of a strawberry,
maybe,
on a good day.
"recovery" was supposed to be healthy, but i'm left with
oh god
close your eyes
don't look at the stretch marks
the touch of your thighs
don't look at your shadow
avoid your reflection
scars on your arms
add to the collection
i'd
rather
be
dead

I cannot even see my shadow on the wall anymore without thinking
BAD
UGLY
FAT
MONSTER
I
WANT
TO
D
I
S
A
P
E
A
R
.
.
.
I hope one day
I will be "okay" enough
To say "how lucky am I
That the sun is shining on me today?"

the thing about being sexually assaulted at a very young age
is that when you are older you will start to associate anything ****** with the first experience you ever had
but it won't feel like butterflies
it will feel like ten showers, not enough, scratching at your skin and vomiting to get any part of him that may still linger out of you even though so many years have passed
the thing is
people will laugh when you say your brother is a terrible person
and their laughter will taste like the bile that burns your throat after you've purged the thoughts away again
i have learned to crave deviant things because all tame actions have been tainted for me
do not touch me with those calloused fingertips,  they remind me too much of hiding in my closet and no one needs to know
dig your nails in instead
the thing is
he is legally "perpetrator," not my "******"
because when both parties are under 18 it's called "child on child ****** assault"
not ****
even though he groomed and manipulated me like any adult ****** would
and I didn't understand but he did
but he is not my ******
it doesn't feel that way
the thing is
i have now learned to fear calloused hands and large men and ****** hair when it's groomed a certain way
i have learned
that rapists come dressed in a smile and their girlfriends will say they're just like big teddy bears
i have learned
to  cry at the thought of pleasure because it feels wrong and grimy
i don't know if i will ever feel clean,
do not TOUCH me with those calloused fingertips, dig your nails in instead
it will feel like butterflies