"why is your lip all cut up?"
it's because if the sadness got a hold of me
and if i felt so desperate that i kissed another, it'd
hurt and i'd condition myself the only mouth that eased the ache
was yours

i guess you just didn't love me anymore

i wrote these poems about two different boys
past and present
maybe i jinxed it and that's why
everything's going wrong
something's always wrong
anything i say is wrong
cheap tobacco and ugly words and sharp edges
i don't want to die anymore and that's worse because at least when i wanted to die i found comfort knowing i had a backup plan
but now im stuck gasping thinking i was gonna be some one
and growing everyone always does

im a useless excuse of a human being
im tired of being sad
and im changing everyday
because i promise someday
i can make myself feel alive
and i can't promise i'll be everything i need
but i'll give myself everything i've got
i'm not the perfect girl
and i can't shake the feeling that
i can't get anything right
but i make a lovely mess
and how can people pin their happiness
on another person when they can't even love themselves?
can i give you a piece of advice from somebody:
(who’s been through this a few times already)  
trust your gut
my biggest mistake was thinking someone else could fix me
only i can fix me
im going to spend my life trying to feel alive
whispering i am broken and a wreck
but i'll love myself until im dead

"i used to be pretty"
until you left me used up and sad and drunk
perpetually waiting by the phone for you to pick up
and tell me that i was worth something
i know girls like me, we are low rise
gold eye shadow and binge drinking
we are nicotine breath and storm cloud eyes
and glass shard touches
we are /ugly pretty/
im tired of the feeling here it's too near to death

these are getting old
im trying to sound like someone else when im writing
(don't you think that's ******* stupid?)
not like when we made forts out of each others arm
and slept safely
(no one sleeps cuddling; it's hot, it hurts, it's uncomfortable)
but we did.
took anything to fix the pieces inside
(broken hearts and homes and rivers of hormones)
and my eyes the desert where the crows find their homes
dry eyes of days like today
(when everyone wants a slither)
and im tired - don't want to pretend

little did i know sadness was contagious
and by the time i did it was too *******
late