delirious days with drunk beauty.

never worship ugly love.

sad men sing raw and bitter music about gorgeous women.

be still but run like the wind.

the forest dream, heave lazy summer.

stop whispering what you were.

my shadow sweats from the mother sun.

red rose petal sky.

death from blue things means rust.

I could write novels about the way your lips traced mine
How your fingers tangled in my hair
How we didn't stop until we were both out of breath
Your hands dipped between each one of my ribs
The pads of your fingers pushing bruises into my hips
Hips moving seductively, slowly, yet without pause
Friction craved and needed and created
The boiling heat between us
Making us cross lines we never knew existed
But it was worth all that we risked.

I don't know how it happened exactly
All of a sudden, everything needed to stop
Somehow my trembling lips managed to form the words "help me"
And before I could blink or breathe or think
The walls were whitewashed and everything smelled like bleach and 409
A nurse was asking me all these questions
A security officer was scanning my body for sharp objects
The strings from my sweatshirt were taken in case I tried to, well you know
My vitals were taken and my parents were taken away
And I was alone. At 2:47 am.

I found my neck aching from the whiplash of 100 miles per hour to 0
From the outside world to a locked unit
Not an ounce of choice or freedom
Everything calmly regulated and managed
The only thing missing was Nurse Ratchet
No straight lines or easy conversations
All dancing around the subject of the white bandages covering my arm
Or the doll my roommate wouldn't let go of
Or the screams from phone calls home
Or the sobs of someone who said they didn't belong here
It all was a blur but the feeling of alone was sharper than any razor I had ever used
I watched from my seventh floor window as people walked along or drove away
They had no idea how lucky they were
Even those in the hospital rooms I could see were free to leave if they wished
And I was stuck. Trapped. Alone.

After two days of quiet, model behavior
They thought I was well enough to be moved
That my problems would be better solved on a different floor
One with unlocked doors and phone calls to places other than home
And it got better, only not really.
I made friends, but not really.
It's hard to relate to someone when you can't share your age or interests
Not to mention no sharing of war stories
As if we were all there just for ***** and giggles.

I wasn't the only one wrapped in white gauze and medical tape
One girl was completely held together by it
A quick slip of the sleeve told the rest of us all we needed to know
We were all damaged in some way
But all brought together by a place that didn't quite fit it's title
As if "mental hospital" fully explained all that had gone wrong
Two words weren't enough to convey how all our bodies were empty and broken from multiple rounds of bombings
How we didn't want to live but we didn't really want to die either
The in-between is the scariest part
They don't tell you that in the welcome packet.

Coming home, I felt like I had just fought a war
Only I wasn't sure who had won
Or even who I was fighting against
My body ached and my heart felt heavy
Like I had rocks inside my rib cage
And a prize fighter had looked at me and then taken his best shot
It was a total knock out
I didn't even have time to tap the mat before I was thrown back into what was the new normal
My bed didn't feel like my own anymore
My room felt like a stranger had moved in while I was gone
There wasn't room for me at home anymore
I had come home a different person than I had been when I left
There was no part of the old me that remained

I wasn't used to myself yet
Didn't recognize what I saw in the mirror
I had spent all fall staring back at a ghost
And now that I had substance, I couldn't meet my own eyes
I was scared to see all that I had avoided
I didn't want to see the rotten parts of me
But there was power in looking back, in raising my gaze
Because the battle was over, but the war had just begun
Only, I wasn't scared to fight anymore.

I can't talk about you without my voice catching in the back of my throat
Almost like your hand is reaching up through me, pulling my voice back to you
I've found it's not any easier to stay silent,
The memories are too strong and being alone doesn't make sense anymore
But then come the bad times and the loud fights
And I'm thanking god I'm alone
Thank god I'm only responsible for myself now, for my own happiness
Thank god my decisions only go as far as me, and not as far as you
Because being your world imploded mine
I lost myself and hated myself and became someone I said I wouldn't be
Since we've been apart, I've started smoking again
But I've also started doing yoga and drinking tea
I'm learning the ins and outs of me again
And losing myself in the beds of other men
Somehow, it's there I find myself
In between the "**** me harder" and the "oh my God baby"
Who I am has never been clearer.
I am strong. I am powerful.
And I am my own **** person.
Who I am now, is better than I ever was.

I was never anything but flammable material
I kept you warm but I burned myself out
Every week I tell my therapist about you
How things have changed
How I have a new man every night
How I rarely learn their names and they never call me back
How I'm nothing but empty anymore
And you judge me for healing wrong
As if what I'm doing is any worse than five weeks of self pity
As if your feelings will always continue to trump mine
As if you still have some say in what I do
As if you're still holding the matches
But I'm learning to speak for myself
I've learned how to moan three different names in less than two days
And how to make none of them sound even remotely like yours
I'm moving on and it kills you, I know
But you only liked the dancing fire and the warmth
You never could stand the smell of smoke.

We were lovers once
But it crumbled into dust
Now only strangers.

The more therapy sessions I have, the more I realize that no matter what I do, there will always be some part of me that will always be this way. Even though I'll kick recovery ***, I'm not just going to hit a point where I'm completely free of what debilitated me for so long. That's not how recovery works. I learned this early on in my journey, and it was terrifying. I was scared to get better because I felt that I would lose a major part of me, of who I am. Even though they were awful parts of me, they were all I had for so many years that I couldn't imagine living without them. The idea of being someone that wasn't myself scared me.
You can have good days/weeks/months/years, but part of your old self is always going to come back. It's going to test you. Don't let it destroy you, but use it as an excuse to show yourself how much you've learned. It'll reinforce the strength you have over this. That's what recovery really is, it's learning to live with this **** and not letting it hold you back. In the end, you're always going to be the same person, just a better version. Start recovering, it feels good.

The boys only love me when my clothes fall off,
I've long forgotten how to stay stop
Fingerprint bruises cover my hips
And the taste of morning afters fill my mouth
I reach for him, but he's already dressed and out the door
Leaving the bed just as cold and empty as before
Trembling thighs and aching bones
Pillows full of breathless moans
This is nothing like the movies,
There's no love here. Not anymore.

There's a silence stretching across my finger tips
Reaches between us,
Sewing up my lips
So many pointless things I could say
All of these easy ways to pass the day away

I got one foot out,
And the other halfway in
Not sure if I should turn back now
Or is it just too late
I don't know if I'd rather make that same mistake
I'm lost inside this maze
Searching for a better place
I think maybe I'd like to stay
If you say that's okay

Could we just sit here,
would you mind the view
If we just sang songs
Cause we got nothing else to do
Could we strum some notes
Make up some tunes
Take back these mistakes
Just forgetting all we knew.

Cold fronts are rolling in
I'll wrap you around my skin.
You light up the room
With your full moon eyes
And your body turns into
A sleepy, night sky.
I imagine us
On the cusp of brilliance
Over looking a sea
Surrounded by forestry
And sunsets.
You told me you loved me
Maybe you meant it
I'll still believe it
I'll still remember it
That was the day
We took a swim in
Heaven and all
Its little horizons.

You have demons
And so do I
But you became yours
And I fought off mine.
I loved you,
because you turned my scars into constellations.
My constellations on your body
You traced them
Connected them
And I told you
"If you need a place
to keep your darkness
or a place to hide from it
my heart's an empty room
for you to fill"
The darkness in you is
engulfing my whole soul
like an old friend.

You were the kind of person that
listened to the blues as you sipped
hard liquor out of wine glasses
and chased it down
with all your pent-up nostalgia.
Tonight, your demons told you something intriguing and horrifying.
They said,
"You don't get rid of us.
We get rid of you."
Now you're happy and disturbed.
Elated by your own rage
and consumed in your darkness.
I thought
Maybe
I could control your darkness.
Turn your sadness into hatred and your hatred into sick smiles.
But hell is in you
and
It wants out to play.

Days where I'm okay
Drift apart like the glaciers,
Melting can't be fixed.

Someone once said,
"Apologies do not make good bandages"
But it's hard to unlearn seventeen years worth of "I'm sorry"
I'm the type of person to apologize for everything
Even when nothing is my fault.
Maybe it's because I was raised to tread lightly over eggshells and broken glass
Maybe it's because the little pink plus sign signaling my arrival was like a banshee's wail to a young woman
Maybe it's because seventeen years have taught me
Apologies soften the punches but often leave deeper bruises.
Maybe I just want someone to hurt like me.

How do you explain living with a hole in your chest
as if talking about it somehow fills it
somehow makes it better
somehow makes the bitter pill easier to swallow
but talking about it doesn't make the sickness in my brain go away
or hurt any less
talking about it gives it shape and a body
gives it two legs to follow my every move
and two hands to wrap around my neck and choke the life out of me
it gives it lips and a tongue to whisper in my ear "it's better this way"
"they don't care about you"
"just one more inch off your waist,
one more pound off your body,
just one more year of your life"
I was barely fourteen when I tried to **** myself
First by slowly starving myself
Second, three years later with medication changes and razors  
There was nothing tragically beautiful about my sickness
About my downward spiral into self-loathing
Nothing glorious in my struggle to remember to breathe
I watched people my age having the time of their life
While I was stuck watching from the side because I was too sick,
Too fearful,
Too weak to join them
I shriveled away until I was half the girl I was before
Now two different medications later
I somehow learned to breathe again
Somehow relearned how to take care of myself
My chest is still a bomb site,
But it's no longer an open wound
No longer filled with hard liquor in hopes of catharsis
Sometimes recovery sounds a lot more like "I'll do better tomorrow"
Than "I'm sorry for today"
The truth is still a knife fight
But I'm not losing the war anymore.