"the title says it all,"
she says, breaking the fourth wall.
"i was with a guy,
i know i know, so cliche,
but he really took my breath away."
the audience laughs,
she continued on,
"he told me all these enhancing things,
and at first i didn't know what to think.
the first date was a disaster,
i spilt wine all over my dress,
and the second went a little better,
but the third one was the best."
the audience anticipated the rest,
"on the 29th of September,
he got sick,"
her breath hitched,
"he told me not to worry,
as he layed in that hospital bed,
hooked up to so many tubes,
he'd say anything to get these thoughts out of my head.
he told me he knew all along,
that he had one month left to live,
i broke to a million pieces,
'but it was so worth it,'
he said lovingly as he coughed his last cough.
i thought of nothing else but the way he looked
hooked up like some middle school kid's science project,
and now here i am,
at this amazing poetry slam,
telling you all my story,
because it could be days, weeks, or even years until you discover your forever,
but for me,
mine was simply a month to remember."

Daffodils  are  yellow,
Daisies  are  white,
Your  soul  may  be  dark,
But  your  smile  is  bright* .

Your  hands  may   be  gentle,
Your  eyes  may  be  kind,
But  lurking  beneath,
Is  a  sick  twisted  mind.

What  made  you  this  way ?
What  shattered  your  soul ?
What  chipped  you  away,
Made  you  part  of  no  whole ?

You're  missing  some  pieces,
They're  scattered  about,
You'll  never  find  them  all,
Of  this  there's  no  doubt.

Forever  broken,
You'll  never  fit  in,
Because  hiding  beneath,
Is  your  soul  filled  with  sin...

i gave my heart away to a traveler in ****** shoes,
he had pretty eyes that made up for his pretty lies,
and now i don't know what to do.
i gave my soul away to a girl that said she worked for god,
she had oil in her hair but i didn't really care,
but she wasn't at all what i'd thought.
i gave my dreams to an artist i met down the street,
he knew what buttons to press to make me scream,
and now i'm not so sure that was a good thing.
i fell for a rose i thought was thriving,
but she was wilted, she was dying,
and i left quick as lightning.
i gave my limbs to a walking light beam,
he was made of this steel that tightly wrapped around me,
but these indents in my bones are a little too extreme.
i gave my poetry to the monster under my bed,
she crawled in and promised in the morning we'd be wed,
and now there's no rings but a shadow begging me to turn off the sun instead.

i don't know,
how to write you in a way,
that makes you as safe as my childhood home.
i can cover you in a blanket of verbs,
i can shroud you in adjectives until it hurts,
i can fill you with nouns until you feel chained to the ground.
it seems as if there isn't even one thing i'm incapable of doing,
and then you ask me to paint you pretty.
with what, darling?
i made your eyes out of all the monstrous things i've seen,
and your legs from the darkest places i've been.
i crafted your bones out of the metal that used to cling to my teeth,
and your blood from the multicolored ink that helped me write all my gut-wrenching things.
i gave you a heart from the graveyard down the street,
and your eyes from the streetlights where we used to meet.
i formed your feelings from the jar of fireflies atop my dresser,
and your lips from the secrets i held with my english professor.
aren't you pretty?
because you look beautiful to me.
*(even if i shaped you from all my worst qualities)