I'm slowly learning the art
Of being selfish with myself
And not other people

there is nothing beautiful about the way
I smell a little too much
like stale cigarettes and day old coffee
and not enough like the flowers
I am trying to grow in those
barren parts of me that I
refuse to let them see

I'm trying to take care of myself
The same way I take care of
The plants on my windowsill
With patience
With a gentle hand
And the idea that nothing grows over night

three different beds
and
not one is home

Who would have known that
My smile would find its shine
By the gaze of two crystal eyes
At the hands of one nervously scribbled line

before her
fall in love with the feeling of
your own skin
marvel at the light hitting each contour of
yourself, inside and out
her name on your lips
cannot, will not mend you until
you learn to adore
the color of your own eyes
and the feeling of your own hands intertwined

I am learning to adore
And not despise
That which came before me
I am starting to understand
That this is not my home
I am just a visitor
And visitors do not disrespect
Their host

Make sure to hug her a lot;
She needs it even if she won't admit it.
Don't you dare yell at her when you're angry;
She's had enough of that and doesn't need it from you.
Tell her how much you love all of her freckles;
She doesn't like them and I'll never understand why.
Support her love of art and writing;
She's going to go far with it.
Do whatever you can to make her laugh;
Even if it's embarrassing, I promise it will be worth it.
Don't force her to talk;
She'll come to you when she's ready.
Write about her constantly;
She deserves it.
Never ever take her for granted;
You'll regret it.

it's been nearly a year
and I'm lying on the same floor
staring at that same spot on the ceiling
listening to that same song
thinking about the same ******* person
knowing I never even cross their mind

I'm ready
I'm ready to fall in love with the smell of the grass
And the sun peaking through the leaves.
I'm ready to feel the same growth as the daisies in spring.
I'm ready to feel the weight of the Earth moving beneath me,
Slowing time.
I'm ready to feel the burn of the sun and smile
Because I know
I've taken so much worse.
I'm ready to feel the cool cement on my back.
I'm ready to fall in love with those old songs
And the passing of time.
I'm ready to appreciate moving on the same way that
Birds appreciate the wind that carries them forward.
So I suppose it's fitting
Being born amongst change, mid-May.
I'm designed to evolve.

You look at me with disappointment and ask if I’m hurting myself again.
For a second your grasp on my cigarette burnt wrist turns into
Her hands pinning me down with the most loving and gentle hold imaginable
Before I’m brought back to the reality where she doesn’t love me and
She never ******* did.
Yeah, I hurt myself.
But these burns spelling out her name are nothing compared to the tears
And gashes and scrapes her absence left me with.
How is it fair that someone can destroy me in my entirety,
But as soon as I try to make my body match the rest,
I’m labeled a danger to myself?
Nothing is more dangerous than
Loving someone who doesn’t give a **** about you.

I’m trying to erase the marks you left all over me,
But every time I get those three words down to just smudges,
You come in, pen in hand,
Tracing over old songs and phrases,
Smothering me so I can no longer stand.
You hand me my eraser, whispering three words,
But never again
The ones I want to hear.
“Get to work”, you say, and walk away.
I look down, eraser in hand, prepared for nothing but
The absolute worst.

Your hands are not the first to trace along
Those parts of myself that I hate.

Embracing the discomfort of the backseat,
Protected by foggy windows and songs played
Just loud enough so
That you can't hear my uneven, nervous breaths.

They're not the ones that I want or miss,
But they're the only ones brave enough to touch me
In the last four months.

The scent of your hair isn't the one I want
Clinging to my fingertips as I lie in bed
The fog on all six windows is there because of
Your heart and my hands,
But the rest of me is missing.
I left it with someone else, somewhere else
Barely visible walls and a low off white ceiling.
I'd like to say I'm thinking with my head
And not my heart,
But neither is true when it comes to you.
It's that one part of me,
Selfish and cruel,
That I never wanted to be
That I want no one to see

I am a person tragically unfit for solitude
Yet I can’t get the feeling out of my chest that
That is precisely what I am designed for

I am not clean.
I am torn up nail beds.
I am bruised knuckles.
I am smoke curling around bleeding fingers.
I am tired eyes that lost their shine.
I am cracked lips forming disappointed smiles.
I am the loose tobacco at the bottom of the pack.
I am dried up old pens.
I am all the words I’ve left unsaid.
I am shaky knees.
I am the discomfort in your chest.
I am trying my best, I promise.
I am hastily scribbled words you’ll never read.
I am not the stability that I need.
I am not what anyone needs,
And it is not beautiful.

You ruined so much for me,
But I'll be ****** the day I let you in again.
After winter comes spring,
And your touch on me will fade with the snow.
I will shed the skin you touched and become something different.
Someone never hurt by you.
Someone you never knew.

There are holes in my old socks
From all the cigarettes
I’m either too tired
Or too sad to finish

I put so much **** into my bath that night,
Hoping it would sink into my pores, anything to get you off my skin and out of my veins.
I sat in that bath until it was as cold as your pool on that one spring night.
The only difference is that this time you weren’t there holding me.
But oh, you were there.
In my watery eyes and erratic pulse,
In my slightly wet hair and torn up fingernails.
I wasn’t sobbing hysterically.
Just the occasional tear trailing down my face past my vacant expression.
Watching them hit the water, I remembered when it used to be blood
That would spread in reddish brown clouds all around me.
I don’t hurt myself anymore.
I just let you do it for me.

I walk to class wearing her glasses and your shirt.
I can still smell her hair from yesterday,
And I can still feel your lips from last month.
I told her I’m not ready, but she didn’t care.
I told you I was ready, and you didn’t care.

Some days
I am so very full of hope
I have moments where all I can do
Is smile and let the tears come
Because I know that it can’t be this way forever.
The pain rips and the memories tear,
I’m learning not to care,
About if they care or not.
Because Jesus Christ, I love so deeply and feel so fully,
For better or worse.
And that is all I can ask for.

We talk about our sweaty palms,
Cautious, careful to avoid
The slightest touch.
Knees gently bump beneath tables,
I flinch back as a flame,
One I want so badly,
Begins to lick at my heels,
Consuming me.
Memories flood my racing thoughts
As I slip your shirt over my head,
Hair messy from fearful fingers
I have no choice but to keep busy,
Because if I don't,
They might find their way to yours.

She's got these mossy green eyes,
The same color as the grass
All those days we used to spend laughing about nothing.
And no one asked, but I can't help but share.
She's got this curly, reddish-brown hair,
And I'll never forget the feeling
Of it tangled in my hands
All those nights we used to spend laughing about everything.
She's got these two freckles
On the right side of her back,
She doesn't know, but she has
******* constellations traced onto her skin,
Imbedded in the deepest parts of herself.
She's got this mind, this labyrinth.
I can't find my way out,
But I don't think I want to.

I want to hold your stupid hand ✔
I want to lay in bed and listen to you talk about space ✔
I want to watch you make all the beautiful things you do ✔
I want to lay in the grass and watch the stars with you ✔
I want to kiss you somewhere with a view ✔
I want to play with your hair whenever I can because it's perfect ✔
I want to wake up next to you ✔
I want to discover new music with you ✔
I want us to do every dumb, cheesy, cliche thing I can think of ✔
I want to fall in love with you one day ✔

Inhale
It can't be real, can it?
It's not meant for me.
Tired eyes dart back and forth, nothing makes sense.
The room spins, not from any over used, over priced medication,
Confused, in a love-induced haze,
I remember.
Exhale.
Has it been days? Weeks?
No, mere minutes since I saw you.
Mere moments since the conversations
We cherish so much,
Before the complications.
Uncertain, questioning,
One more time,
Inhale.
It's meant for me.
Exhale.

we distance ourselves
not because we want to
but because we know
what comes next.
and what comes next
we want far more
than either of us
will ever be desperate enough
to admit.

She keeps asking to read my journal.
I keep saying no.
Because what would happen if she knew
That all I ever ******* write about is you?

Shaky hands, bleeding nail beds
Walls begin to close
Heavy breathing, erratic pulse
Hide behind a hood so they won't know.
A name is called, one I know all too well
One I hate as much as I hate its owner.
They don't understand.
My voice cracks,
The words don't look like they should,
Unfamiliar, robotic as they leave
My cracked lips, that I want nothing more
Than to shut, silent, unmoving.
"Don't be nervous"
My heart rate increases,
And the only thing I can think about
Is disappearing within the pages
Of these stupid ******* textbooks
That no one ******* opens.

Stoner eyes scan the highway
Blurry, chaotic
Nothing looks like it used to.
The music is loud, but it isn't your style.
Smoke escapes the window, but it isn't from your lips.
I have to remind myself
That it isn't you.
It never is these days.
You don't drive that car anymore.
Memories gone, faded
But I can't forget,
No matter how hard I try.
Things are different now.
Uncertain, cautious, confusing
Far more confusing
Far more enticing
Than I could ever hope to be on my own.

It’s 2:12am
My red eyes scan every detail of my ceiling,
Trying to find any sense of consistency in the bland drywall.
Rain gently taps against my open window.
The smell of cedar fills the empty space.
A space she hasn’t occupied in nearly six months.
The lights are too bright,
Magnified by my misty eyes.
Wisps of smoke curl around my chapped lips,
Filling in the bleeding cracks.
Our album plays on a loop
Until the storm takes out the power.
I read the scribbled words that she so obviously left for me.
A best friend, an ex lover, an enemy, she calls me.
And I don’t know which of these ideas I hate the most.

Something isn't right
We're in the back of my car and she slides my hand up her shirt.
Her skin feels strange and unfamiliar
beneath my fingertips and her breath feels dangerous against my bruised neck.
Her hair feels foreign tangled in my hands.
Her lips feel wrong pressed against mine.
She says my name, but it sounds nothing like the way that you used to say it.
She isn't you.
She can never be you.