Standing upon a lone cliff
holding his sword high for his damsel in distress

A hand reaches from behind him
and plunges it deep within the recesses of his chest

She wipes the blood off her gown
and pleads for help from the next passing knight

He is still healing from the last damsel
and no longer wants to fight her own fight

So they agree that the swordplay will cease
and their love will be bland, tired, and tried

And the two of them are happy-not really-
But that's how relationships worked after chivalry had died.

A sweet substance used as a means
to forget

Funny, isn't it?
That I can choose between
Brunette or blond
Blue eyes or storm
Tall or fun sized
And he will still keep me warm

You state your purpose quite clearly, love, yet how do you propose to obtain it? I, unlike the countless girls you have loved, have spouted words for, will not fall that easily, will not let you read me. Yes, I may wear my heart on my sleeve, but it is sewn there with the tightest and most precise stitches. How will your deign to rip it from its’ rightful place?


You know, perhaps I like being alone sometimes, did you ever imagine that? The roar of the silence and the blinding quality of the shadows are my home, why have you come in to destroy them and replace them with something all your own?


Yet being the simple shadow of being alone and the ecstasy of being your star clash, and I cannot decide which I like better. The collision blinds me, and I am left with a choice. Why choose? Why not have both? If only life were that easy, love. We would all live in castles made of tiger lilies and dance on wisps of thunderclouds, but alas life is cruel, and life is cold.


I choose….well. I like my stitches. I like my dark shadows, I like the engravings I place on my skin when I am alone with no one but the empty shower to echo my breathing, slow and shaky. But I like the careful way you pry each stitch up from the heart sewn to my sleeve, the starlight you give off with every breath you take, the kisses you cover me in when I attempt in vain to cover my scars, the ones that will never fade, though my skin will heal itself over.


The choice is made, dearest. With much sacrifice, with many questions still unanswered, with my breath hanging on a tiny thread I feel is destined to break….


I choose you.

You state your purpose quite clearly, love, yet how do you propose to obtain it? I, unlike the countless girls you have loved, have spouted words for, will not fall that easily, will not let you read me. Yes, I may wear my heart on my sleeve, but it is sewn there with the tightest and most precise stitches. How will you deign to rip it from its’ rightful place?

You know, perhaps I like being alone sometimes, did you ever imagine that? The roar of the silence and the blinding quality of the shadows are my home, why have you come in to destroy them and replace them with something all your own?

Yet being the simple shadow of being alone and the ecstasy of being your star clash, and I cannot decide which I like better. The collision blinds me, and I am left with a choice. Why choose? Why not have both? If only life were that easy, love. We would all live in castles made of tiger lilies and dance on wisps of thunderclouds, but alas life is cruel, and life is cold.

I choose….well. I like my stitches. I like my dark shadows, I like the engravings I place on my skin when I am alone with no one but the empty shower to echo my breathing, slow and shaky. But I like the careful way you pry each stitch up from the heart sewn to my sleeve, the starlight you give off with every breath you take, the kisses you cover me in when I attempt in vain to cover my scars, the ones that will never fade, though my skin will heal itself over.

The choice is made, dearest. With much sacrifice, with many questions still unanswered, with my breath hanging on a tiny thread I feel is destined to break….

I choose you.

Blaming someone for addictions doesn't just do nothing, have no effect.
I have always disdained the idea of cigarettes, drugs, and lies. Always. I will never know how you lowered my standards forcibly enough to tell me it was my fault for not helping to get you off them and when I tried that it was my fault for making you anxious.
Anyone could have helped you. You could have helped you.
But you leaned solely on me and bit me when I tried to give you what you needed.
My mom always told me cigarettes were bad, that they stunted your lifespan, that drugs got you into legal trouble, and lies lost you those closest to you.
How did I somehow acquit you of all three of those charges...and blame myself when you refused to face it, how did I poison myself into thinking your choices were my fault?
My roommate likened it to her ****** abuse she faced when she was younger. She blamed herself for not saying no enough. I feel like I didn't tell you emphatically enough, but every time I told you it was bad that you were doing it again, immediately I was the villain and you cajoled me into apologizing by saying that it made you too anxious to think about or try to resolve.
But that you would be better.
You never were.
Being in college, that holy trinity of sorts is what stems all my fears. Cigarettes, drugs, and lies run my anxiety, and I hate myself for it. I hate myself for letting you make me think it was my fault you couldn't fix yourself.
The difference between us is, I'm going to fix the impression you had on me.
But it seems you'll never fix the hole those three left in you.
If you had, perhaps the past would be different.

I guess I should just make it completely clear
I'm not expecting much

I'm just like that at this point
give me physicality
and I'll be fine

Not that I'm using you, I'm down for the romance
I'm just sick
of being tired

"I just wanted you to know that if you deserved my time, I'd be making it free for you."

The smell of his smile
    drifts as we
         are called back downstairs
               and the cold comes back

Sometimes I wonder
at the marvelosity
that is our universe

we can give and create
we can love and debate
we can push and pull
we can die.

but yet in all this sparkling madness,
this canvas that has yet to be covered
why are there so many blank spots?

The curious thing is,
I'm too busy helping others color their lives
to give any life
to mine.

Too many commas!

Did you EVER once stop to consider
How breath
Pausing breath
Like breath
This breath
Gets breath
Monotonous?!

I am scared of commitment,
but I have committed to being scared.

But that day....it's coming will scare me.
What happens will make me happier
And invoke in me a feeling I've never known

But then what....
Don't disappear into the night,
Called back to the duties of the home
And not of the heart.
Stay with me
And help me make up
For all the lost time
We left
On the racetrack

...are you reading this?

To hold a scalpel
Above the gossamer ribbon
That is the equator
And create two halves
Of a mottled looking orange

Is it bad that I hoped it was life threatening?
That I could die and it would all go away and I had my body to blame?
That it was like a suicide of sorts, but that I wouldn't be in trouble?

*Oh, the joys of mental illness.

You handled it well. I know you're strong.*

You can do this, you did all you could.

Words floating between ears and mouth
are easier to decipher when one is yelled at,
easier to comprehend emotionally when
points are pulled at.

Out of lives and into holds I can
fall, but into hearts I never will
chance to venture, for fear of
hurting more people still.

One day perhaps I'll understand just
why I'm made this forsaken way;
big mouth, shriveled heart, no love
but until then this is how I'll stay.

For to grow, I think, is a means
of hurting, a means of letting go
of the things we want most in life
and to which we can't say no.

So goodbye to feeling sadness
and goodbye to feeling blue
The anger and destruction stays
in the place where I kept you.

I don't like being left in the dark

I'll always care, but I need to know

You don't know about the recent spirals, the pain, the inner torture

It'd do me grace to find someone still cared.

But...I'm not a guilt tripper either.

When you wish to be lost and found at the same time

At precisely 10:10 AM, August 15, 2016, there will be a wall erected around my heart and mind. This will be here to stay until I"m able to get a ******* hold on myself and get these dark thoughts out of my head that just happened to choose today to try and wreck previous construction.

We are sorry for the inconvenience.

We are sorry for the inconvenience.

While our project has made some headway- a new and improved venue coming soon!- there are a few impasses that have come to our attention.

Once we eradicate the hurt feelings, loneliness, and confusion from our work site, rest assured our progress shall continue.

We are sorry for the inconvenience.

We are terribly sorry to inconvenience the public in this way for yet a third time. Due to multiple setbacks in emotional distress, lengthy loneliness, and suicidal overdose ridden thoughts, we are still not ready to welcome the public into our new edifice. As you all know, the most recent Hurricane Heartache undid some of the work we take so much pride in. We ask humbly for your forgiveness and are still unable to give a completion date as of now.

Knowing that he
will never love you
as much as you
love him

A figure who spends all his time
twisting to fit in
to society

******* right, you should be scared of me
Who is in control?*

Agh, I can just feel my mind smirking at me right now.

Who gets to decide when I can breathe, when I can cry, when I can laugh, when I can live?

Who?

I may be in control of my fingertips, but my mind? It controls everything else.

Because of me.* She let me stand, snow falling off my bare legs like a shower of ash. Because of us.
What us is there left to lie about... My legs tensed to run. **Who can lie about what is in plain sight?

Do not cry, my dear, my sweet,
Another fellow you shall meet.
With manners and a handshake greet
Then you'll begin to feel complete.

But Mother, Mother, understand;
My time has not now come at hand,
He'll never be gone in my mind's land
For he infiltrates all my plans.

But darling, dear, a brand new face
From your mind will he erase
And retreat at his fastest pace
To live in a cold, dark, lonely place.

But Mother, see, he's done no wrong,
Although his visit did prolong.
I see him in every sainted throng
And wait for him, though the wait is long.

My sweet rosebud, why do you wait?
When another, you will take?
Don't you try to change your fate
For fear of looking like a fake.*

Mother dear, my guardian still,
You believe I've had my fill
But his memory leaves a cold, stone chill
Which can be relieved from no magic pill.

touch me and i make beautiful music
even though you're just playing me

If your heart
Was as soft as your hair
We would still be
On the same
Stem

I'd like to have my sweatshirt back, please

Instead of

*******, give me back my ****, or I'll break you like you broke me.

and i thought they were safe from you
that him being a smoker and her being immunocompromised
were nothing but the way of the world, untouched
by your reach and unperturbed by your body count

your lust for my family has reached its peak
and you've found them all at once
and i'm too far away to shield them from you
or to take the hits with my own body

who are you to choose the weak when it
would be more impressive for you to prey on the strong?

if i can ever peel myself off the ground,
i'm coming for you.

I know i said I wouldn't.
but i did.
am i sorry?

waterfalls crash onto youngsters below, but somehow have the audacity to keep flowing. somehow the trickle of feelings i'm letting loose isn't exactly comparable.

how, then? is there a a way to define the traitorous leakage defining my being at this moment, in others?

no. perhaps not.

so maybe it would be better
to just let this waterfall
crash

They’ll tell you nothing tastes sweeter than life
When all they’ve tasted is defeat

A raging snowstorm
That halts the knight's quest
Author bleeds whiteout

part the curtains of your life and let
the sunshine filter in.

it won't burn, and it won't blind,
I promise.

Just a crack. C'mon.
I'm always here to lend you sunglasses
but first you have to be willing
to open the curtains.

With the whole world weeping into her hands,
Alone on the brink of salvation she stands.

Waiting for an ice shard to free her from time,
Lingering on the edge of a new silken rhyme.

What, once she steps, will Fate for her devise?
Will she, once flown, fall to her demise?

Think not on this, we shan't, for shame,
For unlike to our thoughts, we all are the same.

So tottering over the unknown she will stay,
Red tears shining nuance into the new day.

And once, perhaps, we shall see her soonafter
When, as is hoped for, she'll exist in our laughter.

She shall dwell in the crevices of downtrodden states
And between the rusted old heart's prison gates.

Her solace shall be in the hands joined as one
And the world she once jumped for as she fingered that gun.

Yesterday

I met someone who understood, who felt, who had the experiences I do
and knew

he knew

if only our conversation hadn't been cut short

because for a moment there

I actually felt like this cloud had become
a little less grey
and a little less heavy

Hard
Cold
Unfeeling
Prejudiced

You are my Darcy
and I love the pain.

sometimes I wish I could draw back the shades
on my life and let in some sun

We'll stay dead, like the love we made*
I should have known there was something wrong
Long before we took our field trip
To the cemetery.

i just wish i could fall over on cue.

just to be able to snap my fingers and collapse, wouldn't that be perfect?

the great thing about it would be that
i'd only have to do it
once.

because who dies twice?

i'm so sick of living.
i'm so sick of being punished for doing what i'm told.
i'm so sick of doing what seems right but then learning it's wrong.
i'm so sick of not being able to write anything anymore.
i'm so sick of them.
i'm so sick of her.
i'm so sick of him.
I'm so sick of myself...

is this my last? maybe.
is this my first? perhaps.

all i know is I really don't want to be alive to reread this later.

Being smothered
in a thick layer of flattery....

...that's all I want, honestly.

I want you to lay it on me thicker than the chocolate frosting on my fingertips, to choke me with sprinkles of compliments until I get dizzy from the sugar rush and collapse in your arms.

I want cavities. Lots of them.

But only you can give them to me.

So get cracking those eggs, babe. You have a lot of baking to do.

it raises up to meet me
and unfurls its flag
i should've known the warning signs
but it's hardest to see the things
that are right in front of you

To cleanse oneself
Of the blood that flowed
Between their
Conjoined bodies

when i blink
*i can blow out an entire candle

Alight upon the silken waves of nostalgia
And love me like you did

I'd make myself a ticket home
But the destination's poor
For he's not where my family is
So I'd be left wanting more.

i can claim to know my flowerbed
and the lives left on the shelf
but to water them, says my lost head
would destroy my vacant self

A book full of questions
That have been placated, for the moment