I am lost
I love you
Who am I
Who are you
We were friends
Silent lips lie
Is this reality
Nothing got better
People aren't nice
I am hurt
I hurt you
Do you remember
We're all tired
Same routine everyday
Lost in confusion
Lost in effort
Beautifully painted skies
I've grown up
You were different
I was different
I want ***
I want love
I want pain
A year intoxicated
I didn't know
Failure to myself
Read many books
Leave pain behind
Drink your milk
She's gone now
Life's quickly fading
Words left unsaid
Lust isn't love
I barely exist
Don't forget me
Let yourself heal.

Love the word.

i was warm soft gushy once
easily molded to fit everyone else’s desires
bent around the already occupied space
free and constricted at the same time
always room to change and grow

and then you came and smashed me
every time i tried to warm you up you
crushed me made me conform
squeezed the life out of me in your fist
straightening my back with every word you said
turning me cold empty strict on the inside and outside

now i am frozen and will be so forever
never to melt under anyone’s touch
always there always tense always
this is what happens when you love someone i say
when they will never love anyone not even themselves

someone else used to live here.
i recognize her, but only barely;
i remembered seeing her face once or twice,
when it was small, barely filled out
baby fat, not lean and hard like mine is
after an invisible hand carved out a persona for me to fill,
drawing edges too close and angles too far out
so i am constantly trying to conform to fit inside the lines.
perhaps she drew the lines? i don’t know.
but she is very pretty. her eyes are happy,
not hollow and empty. i think she stole my eyes,
carved them out of my head and stuck light bulbs in them,
making them sparkle and shine line the ocean in the summer.
my eyes are the sickening crack of ice before it gives way
into the dizzying unknown, to the murky water.
i like to pretend that the bubbles that form aren’t from me screaming,
but from friendly animals who are down here with me.
except whenever i go searching for them,
all i see are mean, hard eyes, exactly like hers,
glinting like diamonds, lunging for me, asking me
why i haven’t reached the surface yet,
dragging me down as they whisper.
her eyes haunt me. they are unfamiliar, cold,
but the crowd around me comments on their friendliness,
their openness, their warmth. but to me, they're nearly as frigid
as my own, they are as cold as the darkness that paralyzes me,
as a spider does to it’s prey, in the moments before i fall asleep,
it’s the cold that fills me at my every waking moment, floundering in the dark,
thinking, feeling, knowing i’m falling.
it is one thirty eight in the morning now. i feel my eyes roving
as i calculate exactly how much sleep i can get if i go under now.
i try not to focus on the feeling of drowning as i count,
but i feel her eyes on me and then she is there, in my doorway,
and i can’t breathe, i am suffocating on the essence of her and on my bedsheets,
and then she is gone. and my hands are shaking,
and i am holding the sharpest thing available to me, poised
to strike. i realize:
i’m not trying to **** myself, i’m trying to **** HER.
she, who embodies my depression,
she, who mocks me by taking on the face of when i was happy.
i put down the needle, and close my eyes.
someone else used to live here,
but i don’t know if i’ve ever lived here, either.