i am still my past,
that stupid little girl,
with that stupid knack
for crying,

and i am still her future,
for shes still a little stupid,
and still cries with that
horrible talent for crying,

and i am still alive,
even if im stupid,
even if im crying.

i threw my past at you,
thinking you'd understand,
because pain is relative, and
i knew you got that much

but whats been thrown at me,
be it punches, or knives, or
you and
your words

i guess i just put more
trust in the thought
that you'd think more like me and
you'd, for once, have sympathy.

you were merely a gut feeling
that ate at me,
like a syrup in my stomach,
eating away at all my acid,
and dragging me
down,
down,
down.

but you were heavy, and
i could tell that you
knew this,
for i guess
i was the same
as all the others
in my place,

and it was only today, when
i woke up once again,
and realized that i dont have a clue
what youre thinking,
that i remembered that not only
do gummy worms exist,
but that everything would
be okay.

dont
get too close,
or the smell of alcohol
will rub onto you, the way
his presence already has.

dont
get too close,
or he'll abuse you
like he does drugs,
and me.

dont
get too close,
or he'll start a fire
in your heart, too,
made of gasoline and
my tears.

words are thrown
the way a machine spews bullets
and stains passionate red,
unlike your parents forgotten love,
screaming only defeat, and that
you were for naught

punches are swung,
like bombs that arent made of fire,
leaving something much more permanent
than ash and tears,  
an impression of what they thought of you

ice cream is dropped,
at a party and on a dress,
as your face flushes with embarrassment,
and while people laugh,
finally understanding why
*you are not the favorite child

You are not a walking coffin,
A sinner, murderer,
Or mother to a dead baby;

You are a woman who decided not to have a child,
The woman who took control of her pregnancy and made the right choice for herself,
A woman who was not afraid to deny a huge commitment,
And you are a woman who's not wrong in the choice you made.

whether or not
you decide to rid yourself
of tiny unwanted cells,
that are too early to hear your voice,
and too early to have a beating heart,
or rid yourself
of a future you may want,
it is your choice,
not your choice that
others get to make for you.

sometimes
i wish that you could see into my mind,
and say all the things that i wish
people would say to me.

and sometimes,
i wish you would figure them out
on your own.

don't
say my name
to get my attention,
thats like acting like i
can't hear without it.

don't
use my name
as an insult, for i hate
it already, and find it
used up in that line of resource.

don't
worship my name
the way you want me to worship
your words, it may be my own,
and it may be who you see me as,
but i can still be just fine
without it.

if i marred your body
with words and rusty knives,
and i peeled your skin with
the burn of every tear you
ever caused me;
would you label the remnants
as scars from our love,
or tattoos you regret?

it hurt when she took you from me,
but it hurt even more when you
willingly let her.

I watch movies about
angry little boys
and angry little girls,
and I cry because I'm jealous
that their spirit
never tired them out
the way mine did to me,
so I've stopped bothering
being mad about the fact
that my anger remains
untouched by true reality.

i really cant wait for the day
when someone asks
why im sad, and why
my smile looks too real
to actually be real,
and it's gotten to the point,
where i tell myself
that someone will notice,
and when they do,
ill marry them.

its okay if you
dont love me,
im fine from
the side, only as your
friend, deep in the
depths of
skinny love.
i know im upset,
and i know you
want me happy,
but ****, what would
i give for even
demons to be real,
so i could purchase your love
with mine.

oh please, *******
and your opinion,
good deeds are selfish,
dont you know, so why
dont u spare me the kindness
of blessing me without
your words for a while,
just like i fail to do to you,
with everything u dont want
to hear,  
sorry i guess,
but if she can come off as bipolar,
so can you.

can hearts be heavy like
the bags under my eyes,
or is my
illusion of gratitude
just stronger than
my effort to stay awake

Just kidding,
Sparkles don't heal
My wounds, only covers
Them up, like a mask but
For my heart,
That old broken thing.
Give me credit for trying,
Everyone is different,
Just like filters and sarcasm,
So if my words don't suit your taste,
Just know that I wrote them
With you in mind,
And forgiveness,
Whatever that means.

id write a poem about
my wrath toward
our justice system, but
the only thing my
voice can screech, is
oh my god,
enough will never be enough

i pray justice for antonio martin

please, someone, waste
my time; help me
forget my burdens and
responsibilities.

please, someone, for the holidays,
buy me a prince, and
tell him to slay my demons,
like you never would.

please, someone, make my
toes curl, and my fingers numb
with your warmth, that
i hope caresses me like
a lover.

please, someone,
just know that i don't need saving,
but i sure as hell want it.

i cannot hate you,
the way i hate your opinions,
but *******,
you sure are ****** for
someone so emotionless

i remember that day
when the sun was so bright
and the sky was so blue,
and i remember how
we spent that day at the beach,
catching sand *****
and naming them
funny things, and i remember
saying that we could
have them in replace of
children;

its really too bad i cant
even cry now, for
my tears would just
remind me of that day,
since tears are salty like
the ocean, and my heart still
bangs in my chest
like those ***** did
the walls
of my little green pail.

they say the pretty girl always hides
her true nature
under the layers of her makeup
and beneath her skin,
yet it sickens me to think
that when beauty can hardly be more
than a label stuck on someone's coat,
all the ones that happen to be,
are sad.

beauty shouldn't hurt.

8 days after
my birthday,
i couldn't breathe
as i took a
swim test
with my friends
and failed;
but that doesnt matter,
for now i know
that he couldn't breathe either.

justice for eric garner

your taste lingers thick
on my tongue,
like the wedding cake
placed before me;
half-eaten, and
mostly smeared,
as i think of what
he could've done for me,
but didn't

i wish i could go back
and savor you;
the sunshine on your face,
as if it were pages of a story,
and the feeling of warmth
like the sun on my back
as i read you like
the comic book you were,
i wish i could start over
so then i could feel
this all
again.

we were bound by
something more than just
shared guilt,
manipulation,
and a red string,
whether it was love
or pity of the alone,
i could not tell,
but when you were
with me
by my side
it felt like fate.

i remember them
better than they remember me
i'm sure
my hate like the tip of an iceberg
drifting in the back
of my mind
driving me insane
since it seems like its been
years
maybe forgiveness
however much i hate the concept
is the right idea
when it comes to
their nature,
and my closure.

my jealousy lingers like
hunger does after only
a snack,
even though i know
i'll get my fill,
whether i describe it as
atonement for starving,
or satisfaction
when it comes to my emptiness.

I was fire, and he was ice;
yet he preferred cinnamon,
and I myself did mint.