Tonight is the night that I accepted we aren't going anywhere and never will.

Thank god.

The *** holes made me feel alive today, something I hadn't felt for a little while. I've come to terms with the constant, dull, burning you leave in the back of my throat and in the pit of my stomach. My body isn't yours anymore.

I can't believe it took so long
in limbo
to find solace in
never but I'm not
surprised that you think I'm joking.

You're no longer an option, simple as that, and although you may have staked claim on a piece of my heart, I'm expanding Westernward, myself.

Don't manifest my destiny,
because I already know where it takes me
and that is away from you,
I'm sorry.

We both knew it would end in flames,
but I don't think you realize that I made it out of the fire. Charred, but out.

Please go and set another woman on fire. Let her feel the sadistic misery and, though redundant, let her learn to hate you as much as she hates herself.

Love is a silly thing.
But Hamlet, us women are not fickle.
We only are protecting ourselves
from the fire before
we lose our bodies in it
and start to believe that souls are separate.
I'm whole.

in his kitchen he asks me
so why are you personally affected?
a friend
a friend was *****
in Charlottetown?
yes

I don't know if I'll ever let him now it was me. I don't know if I want him to know. I'm not completely sure he'd care.

But I want you to know. I don't know why I share these bits of myself with people I barely know. I guess it's the same with performing. If rather sing in a room full of strangers than with friends.

But ****, that's different. That's not something you bring up at grandma's dinner table, let alone the fact that you know what *** is. There's a stigma, and no one can know how scared you felt on that August night.

But he doesn't know. We walked by the spot where it happened just last week. He wanted to sit there, it looked nice. I never want to be near that place again; Charlie's greedy hands entering my motionless body. His hands are so different, I don't want to associate the two. I feel like crying.

Fathers are important. I don't want to be the girl with daddy issues; I'm not. But not having a father growing up is something you can't describe. I think he knows, partially. Divorce is hard, but my dad was never there. And I don't mean physically, because sometimes he was there physically. He just wasn't there. We didn't talk. We didn't do things together. He was idle and I was a child. I had no idea who he was.

And when I went to Mexico, I missed him. And it was one of the first times I truly did. I felt immensely hurt, the kind of hurt that goes past the physical. I felt genuinely unloved and deprived. I yearned so badly for a father's love. I wanted so badly for him to say he was proud of me. For turning out half decent without someone to show me who I was.

See, when he went to Mexico, he brought me back a ceramic, heart shaped box. I admired his efforts, for even thinking of me. Now, when I'm there, my best friend also gets a box for our friend. But it's chosen with specifically her is mind, then lovingly filled with beautiful shells found on the beach. It's so ******* stupid. So ******* stupid. But I don't think my dad would do anything like that for me. And it makes me angry, and it makes me cry. Hell, I'm crying right now. It's so ******* stupid.

Do you think it's stupid? I think it is. I'm crying over a ******* box. But it's not the box, you know? It's not the box.

I don't know what to tell you, James. I'm crying over a box and a boy who touched me almost two years ago. I don't know what to tell you.

Lie to me
tell me I'm always on your mind
It's fine by me
Manufactured bliss at hand
Cause I'm somewhere else
That place is not here

And it's not near to you
Although I thought for a long time
that I was dear to you
I've got blood on my hands
Cause I'm the one who killed this
I just knew it had to end

Maybe I'm in Montreal
Maybe these flowers are Quebecois
I wish you'd understand
That these places are feelings
and my feelings weren't placed with you

Maybe this house wasn't hell
And these walls weren't my jail cell
I wish he'd understand
And no he wasn't selfless
He was just selfish and mean

So demeaning-

Understand

I don't need you anymore

Maybe

You were just a bore

I'd smoke tobacco if it was from your hands
I think I'd do anything if it came from your hands
I've always felt this way for as long as I've known you
I can't articulate it

I'm not being creepy
but I have always watched you
not in the creepy way
but I just wanted to
know who you are
but you were always so far
away
I wanted to feel
whatever you felt
even in a small way

I have waited for a long time
and so I am nervous,
as you may find!
So when you walk me down the street
and talk to me about nothing very neat
I'm still blooming on the inside!
I'm absolutely shattered in the gentlest way.

I want to see you another day.
Maybe when I'm not so nervous.

Shifting forward
I'm ready for this
rubber on gravel, creaking
I'm ready to not be here
fleeting air on skin
One step, one chance
a sudden screech
I'll pretend I didn't see him
walking casually

My therapist told me that
she's "not worried"
because she doesn't think
I'll "act on my thoughts"

When she can't see through my façade, I know I'm good

I guess no one reads between lines anymore
and I kind of want to do it
just to show them that I could.
One last act of defiance.

Everything is overwhelming.
I just want to sleep, mostly.
It's scary to never feel awake
and to know that it might never change.

I want off.
Off of life.
I'll never be what I wanted to be,
so why be?

Tears of gin
Stream down my face
Pine needles scratch
My throat's embrace
On the words I once
Knew how to say
I'm hopelessly trying to
Reiterate.

Tuck me in
Lay me down
In the bed
I'll slowly drown
Your words are weak
They pass me by
I'm so so sorry
Liquor, I cry

Morning next
Mascaraed face
Turns to look
At her weathered mate
Thank you baby
I'm sorry I
Had too much to drink-
It's fine
*sigh

Reassure my broken organs.
They'll play just like a piano.
They moan and carry on,
Just like a soulful cello.

I'm indecisive and uncalled for.
My state of mind: complex.
It's all here waiting for you,
Waiting to dissect.

I hope you stay for a while.
I  hope that I intrigue.
I hope I don't drive you away,
Or wither you with fatigue.

All in all, let's face it.
I'm done with a disguise.
I'm ready to let down my walls.
Prove my decision was wise.

I want to reach out
the pads of my fingertips
to the silken bags
under your tired
"battered blanket"
eyes

Because your eyes tell the same story as mine

And to compare and contrast
is simply the best medium
of recovery
in my humble opinion

Because we're so young and painfully present

And I feel as though our hearts
have been pulling
with a magnetic charge
and a gravitational pull

Because our empathy is astounding

It's one of those days where punk songs make you cry

I am brimming with love and seduction, feeling the air on my skin as if it's water, like liquid surrounds me and reaches every bit of skin.

I feel everything, every breath reaching deep into my lungs, my neurons and their synapses, connecting my heart and my head, leading my soul.

I'm crying at a punk song, because it's so raw and so exactly how I feel, a mirror which tells you what to look like.

I want to be loud and exuberant. Just living, ****. I want to have all the air in the world, then explode.

Scared of the sacred
Of what is inside me
Growing
possibly

I'm scared of the God that
placed this in me
I'm still a child myself
Only 17

I don't want to be shunned
Or feel sick to my tum
I want to be done
Give me the gun

My therapist says I'm a Walking Challenge;
Is that what you saw in me?
A broken soul that you could mend
But in the end
I challenged

Tonight
I'm going to give you some advice
I should have gave you
long ago
down the road
maybe you'll thank me
For my complete
and utter
honesty

I'm not happy that we're done
I'm just glad to be a ****-up
And the battle wasn't won
all the soldiers just went home

Only you can tell me otherwise
Only you could tell me blatant lies
Only I could take your supervised
view of the world
And see it through different eyes

I am frightened now
at what you said
But it all makes sense inside my head
That you search for broken
bent
and dead
To revive what you think you can.

But some things are just better off numb
and don't think that you are the only one
to save
to be the "man"
to fill the holes
of souls that never were empty.

You're trying to fix things that were never broken
Always searching for the upper hand,
when I only stood equal.
And now when you say she's
"possibly even more ****** up"
than I was;
I understand.

I'm jealous
because you did what I couldn't
do
But wanted to
for so long

And executed
with such
beauty
and grace
right down to the place
perfect

But you can't see
the heaving
heavy
hearts
of the people you left behind
and the weak ribcages
struggling for air
and an answer to
why
and
how couldn't I have known?

I wish I was gone too

Why didn't I take the plunge?
Regret fills me.
Two tickets to city cinema
waiting
Why didn't I talk to you?
When I had the chance.
I was a coward,
scared of rejection
and now I can never know
if affections were returned

I can hear you in my head
still
Minolta
Pentax K1000
Lenses
Engineering
And I wonder why you loved photography so much.
Was it the pursuit of perfection?
Was that your heaven?

Nobody cares
Shut up...

But I care!
I do and I told him I didn't and I told me I was done with it but his eyes look at me and I can't help but smile and giggle but I don't
Know if he actually wants me like I want him right now and it hurts in my chest like he's sitting on me saying "But I'm a man. I'm a man."

You can be a man and still not hurt me? You can be a man and not waste your chance with me.

And I feel this longing deep in my chest behind my ribs and I feel like the water is at my lips but I can't taste it. I just can't taste it. And so I'm looking frantically for the water and it's with you and you have it but you won't give it to me, you *******. "Oh, later." but ******* I want it now.

As I plant myself in front of the mirror
I lift my shirt
And see what I've seen
For about as long as I can remember.
It's a stomach
Always has been.

But these tiny rolls
and squishy bits
have fluctuated
for many years
and I poke a ****
with a loving hand
a caress more than a stab

Yet you insist that I should hate my body

I love my mid section
I love the stretch marks on my thighs
I love the way my stomach
folds and plies
I love it all so much
And all of it is me
So why are you treating me like a sub-human being?

You say that you'd much rather
me having a drinking problem
than be fat
that's what you said
and you think I have a problem?

I'm 5' 1", at about 125.
You think it's "healthy" to have a low BMI.

Your method isn't working
I'm not dieting
No way
No weight watcher's for me
not ever
not today

If you think I should hate myself, Mom
I think you should just leave
Because I love my every fiber
I'm an exceptional human being
And you've overlooked so many facets of a life
And that beauty comes from within
And a couple pounds isn't going to change that
I don't need to be thin.

combustion
reaction
you're the chemistry
of my life

before you
I never thought
I'd ever become
a wife

a mrs. of whom
I never did know
my mr. was non-existant
like a cell without chromosomes

this science has me baffled
your logic has me stuck
I used to be so infallible
but now my life is luck

chance
circumstance
do I take the reigns?
am I ******?

but I'm contented
because it's you
and you'll always be enough.

Slide your hand
down my back
your fingertips
are bound to crack
the code my skin
presents to you
I feel as though I fall for you.

snap

And it's all gone
My mind is taking
Over now
This horrible place
Holds me still
Captive in here
Beyond my will

but your love remains strong
and you don't let go
and I grab the rope
you've throw down this well
and it's a hard climb up
but it's worth the work

You'll never know how much you're worth

What does he know about hearts?
He's a smart boy,
a genius perhaps.
Stanford taught
and although that seems impressive
it only scratches the surface of his résumé.

What do I know about art?
I can paint meaning onto anything
that could be better described as feeling
or intuition.

And although he knows all the parts
of the heart
and how to properly knot vessels,
does he know the thrum and the ache of it all
willing it to stop beating?

But yes, yes he does
He knows a lot about hearts.
And me?
Not so much of art as I should.
But one thing I do have in common with that boy,
I learned everything that I could.

When daddy was a dealer
And mommy was a dreamer
And life was always high
You couldn't catch us
Like a fever

But now I can see her-
Tears in her eyes
Momma took time off
Because she wanted to die

And the divorce came fast
But the pain came slow
When you're an adult in the body
Of a little snotty nosed

****
and
Smoke
I can see the scent
Of my ****** up childhood.
I guess you could call it descent.

Not growing up
But growing down
Into the sewers
Of my town

This dirtiness can never be washed

I long to smell someone's skin.
To brush my feet against their's
To nuzzle in their hair
And to love them whole-heartedly.

I long to caress someone's neck.
To absorb them through my pores
To have them barely quench my thirst
And to love them whole-heartedly.

But I crave what I know
I don't have
and so
I'll just long until someone
loves me whole-heartedly.

I need to write more.
I need to write more since it's not coming out any other way.

I tried to speak to you.
I tried again last night.

The words would not come out,
I know it's cliche. I know it.

I've been neglecting my thoughts,
squishing them hard with my palms,
into a paste.
I've been trying to feed it to you,
but your mouth is shut and your head is turned.

It's ok, because I know there's nothing to love.
I'm not myself anymore.
I'm just hurting, that's all.

I understand that you don't want to live with me.
That's ok, because I know, I've tried escaping me too.
But I'm glued at the seams, and as much as I pull,
there's no breaking through.

Yes, you can walk away.
Yes, I'd like that in a way.

Since you're not pulling it out.
You're not eradicating my pain.

I must seem so silly to you.
So simple, too.

I don't blame you.
I don't blame you.

But I cannot erase the thoughts of girls saying exactly what you want them to say. I cannot erase the thought of you in bed with your best friend. I think you'd be a lot happier without my ****** up head. You'd be a whole lot happier without my ****** up head.

You're like a drop of summer rain
on a cold winter's day
so strange
and so
warm

You make feel me so hypnotized
or maybe then I'm just blind
my ignorance
runs
so deep

Oh, you know
I'll be running back
Like a train
On a track
I can't leave my home

You're blanket soft
And I'm so lost
I can't believe all those thoughts
ran over me

But you, you make me sweet

The sun touches a field of wheat
But nothing could be as sweet
as your grand embrace

I know we all think these thoughts
of death and misery
we lost
sight of our grace

Oh, you know
I'll be running back
Like a train
On a track
I can't leave my home

You're blanket soft
And I'm so lost
I can't believe all those thoughts
ran over me

But you, you make me sweet

You worry too much
my dear
but you have nothing
to fear
I'll be here when you need

No more stumbling through life
No more bickering
No strife
I'm where I want to be

Oh, you know
I'll be running back
Like a train
On a track
I can't leave my home

You're blanket soft
And I'm so lost
I can't believe all those thoughts
ran over me

But you, you make me sweet