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Zachary Apr 2014
Rain was a symbol
Of prosperity in ancient times

And that's what you were-
A storm that came in
And blew me back off my feet

Once having solid footing,
But you created a mudslide within

You came in
Like a flurry of ice and anger
Of fire and sadness

And I didn't know what to do

There was nothing to say

I worried if I touched you
I would slip and fall

That happened anyway

It was a gradual decrease
Of the rooms temperature

Rain was a sign of prosperity
But now it's seen as an omen
Winter was never my favorite season
Zachary Jan 2014
you swallowed prunes as if your life depended on it, and to your mental state, they were better than any gateway drug or needle implanted into your muscles
the rough exterior cracked and ripped apart your lips unforgivably; tearing down your esophagus with the force of a peach pit
you rubbed dried apricots onto your skin as if that could cure you of all your sadness; as if it could take the need to get away and drown yourself
until you were buried deep into the soil and there are flowers nestled into the crooks of your bones and you tasted of sweat, *****, and tears
when at night you sit on the edge of your bed contemplating life or death between sobriety and a drunk that lingers for days on end clinging under your nails
and to all the people who roll their eyes at you and say ‘you’ll get over it’
tell them to **** themselves; tell them that when they see apricots, they see sunshine, but you see death to infinity and beyond;
you see all the broken promises that were whispered into the knots in your back
you see the lily pads of roses that dripped with regrets and words that were never said
words that gripped your lungs like a vice in the back of a car
when you thought of love, you thought of apricot kisses rubbed against your lips;
of rolled up aluminum foil
of lighters drained of their fluids in a week time
of the close to boiling water that invaded your personal space and reached the tip of your nose
and of peach kisses from Georgia that dug its way into you; promising another day
Zachary Dec 2013
There are some things
I never said
And some
I have not forgotten about you
They are as follows

1. I have not forgotten
The way your lips parted
When you would say my name
As if it were some prayer
And not some messily scrawled pencil work
In the back of a stall

2. I have not forgotten
The way you would hold me
When I told you I wanted to die
When you would sit with me
And see that I was a monster
That there was a beast
Hiding inside of my head
And no amount of love
Could rid it

3. You were like Beast
And I was like Beauty
Maybe it was the other way around
Maybe you were the one
Who brought lights to others
And I was the one who drowned

4. Not everything about you was bad
You taught me
What love feels like
What true love can do
How,
Despite everything a person feels
Love can make you or break you
And you broke me

5. I told myself
I would not have another relationship
And I lied to myself
I do not know how
To be serious anymore
All I can do is
Play around
And cheat myself

6. I couldn't think of anything else
But the way your hands curved
The way your knuckles shouted
My name when they were curled
Around my neck

The way your mouth
Formed my name
On my neck
And created a bruise
That lasted for centuries

The way you pressed
Yourself against me
And whispered
"I love you, so much"

7. Do you still love me now?

8. I never told you
That I started smoking
So I could burn your scent
Out of my lungs
And taste you in my mouth

I never told you
That I started drinking
So I could forget you
And forget myself

I never told you
I started acting out
So you could pay attention to me again

I never told you
Just how much
You ****** me up

9. You were the name I moaned out
On restless Saturday nights

You are no longer that name

10. You taught me
How to fall in love with strangers
So much that
I saw their tiny little flaws
And still thought they were beautiful

I could see
The flowers growing from
Their broken and withered body
And I thought to myself
Thank you,
For teaching me how to love
But also ******* me over
Zachary May 2014
"Go home" they say

Where is home supposed to be,
When the place you were raised
Was torn down by the devil's hands themselves

The walls dripped with crimson memories,
Stronger than any IV provided in dingy hospitals

Home is fantasized as a comfort
A place to shield yourself from the daily onslaughts

I've become well acquainted with the back of cars
And random beds

"Home is where the heart is"
Well, my heart is set on state-hopping
And on the morphine provided by your luxury

If there's any place I want to stay,
It would be far from you
Zachary Dec 2013
If God made us the way we are, then what's to stop us from being gay?

Did you know that gay used to mean happy

In ancient times

Ancient, as in just a few years ago, when people were more civilized then us now

When they were afraid to speak up in fear of retaliation

It is no wonder that now, those who are out of the closet, are drunk on grandiose

When the uber religious try to shove their beliefs down your windpipe

Until it is so deeply embedded that no amount of surgery could take it out

If God hates us, then why would he have made us so perfect?

Who's to say it's even a he; when he could be a she

If the queen of all species hates us, then why did she create rainbows? Those same rainbows you let your children enjoy, the same rainbow colored toys that you insist are teaching your snot monster to be "gay"

Instead of worrying over how to survive that day, take the time to sit at home and relax

Drink away your stress with coffee or alcohol that burns not only your tongue but your body and runs an electrifying course like a river after a storm until it reaches your toes and back up to create chemical reactions in your brain; savor the bitter taste it leaves in your mouth and compare it to your past

Watch tv that is so lame you cannot help but laugh at the terrible irony and puns

Cry over somebody who does not love you and then go out and find someone who does

The point is, you are gay and they are not
Zachary Dec 2013
Some days,
Caterpillars will feel ugly
They will see their cousins
And view the wings
Painted like a spectrum

Just like the story
Of the ugly duckling
Who felt he wasn't good enough
Who felt he didn't belong
But turned out to be
This magnificent thing
Who stunned not only others
But himself

Adults will never admit
To having been told
To just "**** yourself"
They will never admit
To having said that
To someone else

When you were a child,
You were told you were a mistake
But sweetheart,
How can something that
Breathes life and creates beauty
Be a ******* mistake?

How can something that
Has its own opinions
Its own morals and loves
How can that be a mistake?

Look your mother in the eye
And tell her the words
She never heard growing up
"I love you
It's okay
You did okay
You are okay"

If you **** yourself,
Then how will you know
The way you will look
On your wedding day?

You will never be able
To see yourself in your gown
Or in your suit
Happy and thriving and loved

How will you be able to
See yourself grow old and grey
With your true love next to you
Or, even alone,
But surrounded by true friends

You tell yourself
That you are different
For being that one friend
Who hasn't gotten married
Or had kids
Or any of that stuff adults do

Some people are just
Not made to love
And that is okay!
You will still be loved,
Regardless

If you die tonight,
Then how will you see the morning?
Put down the ticking time bomb
Of your ultimate demise
And read this over
And over and over and over and over
Until sunrise peaks
Behind the silver clouds
And be proud
That you lasted another night
That you did not fall
Into their traps

Step outside
Let the wind
Chill you to your bones
Feel something
Other then numbness
Scream if you have to
No one is awake
Just breathe
And live
It.
Zachary Dec 2013
It.
Growing up, you wanted to be a princess. But you wanted to be your own hero. Insisting all you needed was a bit of love

They say, "No, a princess cannot wear a crown and suit"

Handed dolls, cars taken away

They say, "Oh, that's so gay!"

They say, "Hey, ******"

They say, "What a ***"

They say to grow up. Be a lady. Get some manners; grow a pair

But then you do, and they stare. Bonded with tape; compressed, hidden away from sight

Zachary,
Tucked away in your pocket. Except that pocket is your skin, your bones

They say

If you are one of us, then do this. But you cannot. There is not enough testosterone; not enough muscle

So they laugh. Say you are weak, and a liar

They say

This is a phase. You will regret it. It is simply not possible

Zachary does not exist. He is not real. You are just young

You do not know

You are a female. Despite your protests, they insist anyway

They say, "Have you seen it? Is it a boy or a girl? Is it gay or straight? It's an it. An it. It's a monster."

They say, "I bet I can make you straight" with their glint in their eyes, that have already lowered you, to that of dirt. And then, when you get hurt, it's your fault. For tempting them, for being yourself, not
theirs

They say
You are nothing

They say
You will get hurt. And they are right They do not lie, but they are dishonest

Whispers pass you. Pointing from children, and mothers shielding their eyes
"Don't look at that, it'll make you sick"

Adults of authority, giggling and taunting
Hushing each other, to no avail
Putting you in classes where you don't belong
Making you cry, when they do not listen
The urge to scream, "I am human, too. I deserve comfort"
Anxious to speak up, fear of being dismissed

People misgender you
Call you a girl, if you are a boy
And vise versa
Call you sir or ma'am, when you are neither, or both
You are afraid to speak up. Say, "No, that is not me"

Parents who don't understand. They all begin that way
Not believing, and blaming themselves
Educate them

Zachary is here, standing on his toes
Wishing,
To be seen
To be acknowledged
No longer a scab you feel the urge to pick;
No longer skin you feel the urge to tear
Zachary is here
He has always been here
He is not an it
Zachary Feb 2014
you were my muse

and

more alluring than
a water nymph

you were my inchoation
teaching me how to rove
and becoming my termination

dead poets
would have cried at your feet

just as I once did

but

I stopped.
Zachary Dec 2013
We have all loved skeletons at one point- maybe as lovers, a person with benefits, or a friend. Skeletons that looked just like us; zombies walking the same path, no longer caring for their way. Pieces of a soul that were so shattered no amount of band aids and peroxide could heal it

Your expressions that entranced not just I, but many past lovers. Ones that are not intended for me, but if I try hard enough, I imagine they are so

Your hands were delicately carved work, and your bones, your bones, the finely formed structure of intricate words, whispered in the dead of night to the crook of your neck

You overtook my thoughts; shadowed me in my sleep, molding my dreams to nightmares. All I can think is “would they like this?” or “that?”. You are a dictator with an iron fist on my heart of weathered steel. You are the reason I write; why I wrote until the crack of dawn when no other soul was awake except for the lonely and the in love

My nightmares and reality merge into one, until I do not know which is which, but I do know that wherever you are, I am searching for you in the deepest corners of my mind to find lost memories, waiting to create new ones

And I know that, despite our differences, you are buried deep into my skin, a fragrance that I cannot wash away with tomato juice no matter how much I match the sticky substance

The one beautiful thing I have not gotten bored of; the one person I have not walked away from. When you have an obsessive personality, which quickly turns to boredom, it is hard to find that one person who keeps you from that

You are the one beautiful thing I never regretted latching on to

But the minute I saw you, I knew I would not do the same, no matter how much I would want to. The second I saw you, I knew I wanted to be the one who was the first to see your face each morning, and the last at night. I knew I wanted to be the one to kiss your wrinkles between your brows away, to wipe your salted tears off your cheeks and wash them from your pillows; I knew that if I were to meet your family, I would say “Thank you for him. Thank you for this great person who not only brings light to my world, but is a sun to many others.”

I knew that despite all that, you would never be mine. For you see, you are a star, a planet bigger then the solar system that contains your tiny toy of a body, and I was simply orbiting you, pulling farther away with each passing day

You wield a weapon, dangling from your fingertips that no one sees, but you can feel inwardly, pushing deeper and deeper until it is so embedded I no longer feel it. You morph me between your nails like the water cuts through rocks and forms them into sand, leaving nothing but the past remains of centuries of wear and tear and pushing and pulling and-

You control every turn I take- “Do not walk out in front of that car” and “Do not push yourself so far down you cannot see the light at the end of the tunnel”

You are the reason I wake up each day, and vow to myself to survive, for if I survive today, one day I will live

I count the days until I will tell you; fearing each day that you will find someone who could love you better then I, a person who is not a whirlwind of emotions and hair and everything negative in the world but is beautiful and a doll and will become the grass on your core, melting the molten rock and oozing out on late nights when no one is home and not a soul is awake

And I cannot sleep knowing there will be someone who will love you better than I; cannot breath knowing there will be the doomsday of my heart, when it falls to pieces and is crushed like marrow with the same nails that molded me to be something I was not; cannot stay in one place as long as I know I have one in a million chance of winning you, a piece in the lottery that is greater then the reward; cannot scream for my lungs have given out, my throat has dried out and there are no more tears left to spill for a man who does not look at me twice

You are the first beautiful thing I have latched on to, and you will not be the last I will let go of
Zachary Dec 2013
Once, I asked my mother what it felt like to be in love

She told me:
"I still question now
How to get every sticky word
Out of my whirlwind mind

When I can't focus on one thing at a time
And wonder how to tear myself apart
Just to let you know everything
"

She gave me a list
And told me to write down
What I was thinking

1. He calmed you
When you became a storm
Shut down the thoughts you had
But over time
He went from being the center
To being the hurricane

2. You were always afraid
Of religious people
Afraid they would shoot you down
But when you found out about him
You could no longer think nor move

3. You knew if you tried
You could be smart
But with so much illness,
That was near impossible
But he refused to let you think that
Until you started to feel insignificant
Compared to him
You felt nothing

4. You would carve his image
Etched into your nightmares
Like a marble stone made of glass shards
Perfected by the hands of Donatello
Getting down to every little detail
Graffitied yourself into my skin
With the letters:
"This is my muse"
And picked your way into
Everything I was and am

You squirmed your way under
And started to spread like a disease
Latching on
With the strength of silk cocoons

5. I learned what it meant
To hate someone so much
Because they became your poison
The liquor you drank one too many times
A drunk I can only get away from
By throwing my self respect away
And inhaling a fume of forgiveness

When I let my mother know this,
She just looked at me in pity
And told me that was how it started
With my father

She pushed me away
And told me to keep writing

6. When I told you
I wanted to die
I didn't mean it figuratively
But you looked at me
As if I had made a joke
And every scar
Screamed your name

7. A self taught lover
Who whispered her poems
To men who didn't listen
And to women too high to care

The definition of love
Became the equivalent
To the adjective of pain

8. Instead of focusing on how
They would scrunch their eyes when they laughed
Or the way they wrapped their fingers together
As if going into prayer
Or how a sunset reminded you of
The way their eyes looked
When they were open and honest
And not feeding others ******* from a spoon

You focused on the more shallow things
How they never seemed to say sorry without laughing
Or how he made you feel like a skeleton
A background image
Painted onto a beginners portrait
That was lit up into flames and
Had gasoline poured over the edges

9. You learned all the different routes
You could take to catch a glimpse
Perfected your timings
Down to a millisecond
Memorizing the way for an easy escape
And taught to hold your breathe
While you were buried under tides

I knew I had to get away,
But the thing was,
I didn't know how

10. If I were to ever fall into the trap
Of baby-making, I knew
That I would have two boys
One named after you
And one after the man who taught me what love was
And what it meant to lose it for the first time

When I told my mother how I felt,
She just looked at me with tears in her eyes,
And warned me of what I was up against

She told me
"Darling, you will face mountains and volcanoes
You will push stars and moons
You will learn to clip your wings before you learn how to talk
And you will learn what it means
To be a spider caught in another's web
And you'll hurt, but you'll enjoy it, because it makes you feel alive
"
Zachary Mar 2014
The first time I took notice of a magazine, I was in elementary school. I could barely distinguish my S's and my R's. I was only a little girl when my mom gave me my first magazine and told me it was her Bible.

They all started the same way- a supermodel here, a ****** washed out athlete there, and a divorce that made the headlines. I thought to myself that this was normal. That hurt was something that happened nonchalantly, that every beautiful person starved themselves for one reason: to fit in. For publicity. For the money and so-called beauty. For love.

I was in middle school when I realized that all those magazines I picked up over the years were nothing but full of skinny, beautiful woman. Page after page of flawless skin, of perfect hair, and hourglass figures. It was the same year that I realized those women didn't eat. That they hurt themselves on the outside, so they could feel beautiful on the inside.

And I thought to myself, "I want to be exactly like them."

It wasn't until high school that I realized I would never be like them. No matter how much I followed the magazine celebrities like a dog, I couldn't do what they did, follow their actions, or say their words.

Women who aren't women are told they don't matter. That if we don't listen to the men in our lives, then we have no purpose. And if we deviate a fraction of an inch from the chosen path, then we get ostracized.

We get makeup thrown into our faces, and pills to make us thin shoved down our throats, and are forced to wear clothes that show skin- but when those clothes get ripped off, it's suddenly our fault for being skimpy.

The year I turned fifteen, I realized I didn’t need to be a certain way to be okay. I didn’t need to pop pills, or shove a finger down the back of my throat, or skip meals and deny it when asked. I could dress how I wanted, whether that be a dress or trousers, was up to me.

I was barely sixteen when I realized that the magazines lied, that they airbrushed real women into dolls, and that the media didn’t care about real people dying as long as that famous child celebrity lost 10 pounds. That they preferred a 10 day marriage over a civil war or a crackdown. That a man dying of a sudden heart attack was more important than a young girl getting run down.

I was a kid when I realized that the people I looked up to were nothing more than plastic and Photoshop.

That I was nothing more than a scratched up record player waiting to be glued together with a bit of cover up and a bottle of mascara.
Zachary Dec 2013
You are under my skin
Crawling through my veins,
Enclosing yourself in my ribs
Digging out to the surface
You are the wind in the trees,
The dying leaves as they fall down
The breaking of hearts
Under cold December nights
You are the shrieking
On long insomnia nights
You are the thought that keeps me awake
Lying under the pale moon sky
And counting the stars
That will create a nebula
You are the ache in my bones
Breaking from the pressure
Of staying alive
You are the dust in my body
Coiled around my heart
Squeezing the air from my lungs
Trapping yourself in the corners of my mind
Burning yourself into my memory
You are in everything
And nowhere at all
You are everything
And nothing at all
Zachary Jan 2014
i often think of death
at the hands of Galileo
a cluster of galaxies
pouring through his fingernails
and weaving his way
like a silk ribbon in the midst of a cotton dress

camouflage designed to keep you hidden
from the enemy across the cliff
but you can't hide from the other side
because the other side is inside of you
and they have their weapons
pointed directly at your weak chains

a galaxy formed inside of you
a white dwarf star that
collects energy over decades
pressed together into mere seconds
and it spills over the edges
like spilt wine on linen sheets

i've thought of death
at countless midnights
in the middle of hallways
in your arms
swaddled in the equivalent of a human burrito
at the mere peek of your face
out of the corner of my eye in
a place where there is no forgiveness

they always directed me
to one place
it was a safe haven of sorts
they took a mirage of an ocean far away
and on bad days,
implanted in the comfort of your solitude

on most days,
i fought silently and alone
on bad days,
i fought against something vicious
but alone

i've thought of killing myself
countless times
but the fools hope
always brought me back
and i learned to bury my anxieties
so only my most trusted comrades knew
the different between a shaky 'I'm fine'
and a shakier 'just tired'

it was like a ticket stub,
for a movie that wasn't even all that great
but you went anyway
because you wanted a distraction

and i would rather be dead-alive
than alive-dead
Zachary Jan 2014
once in the back of a car
i asked what it felt
to be in a haze

they looked at me,
laughed, and said
"you're already there"

once behind a tree
i discovered what people meant
when they do drugs
and don't remember
what happens the next day

i discovered what it means
to be carefree
and not care for the consequences

once i snuck into a house
and discovered what happens
when you aren't quiet enough

once in the middle of the night
i found out what it meant
when people do ***** things
with people they barely know

once in the middle of a field
i found out what people meant
by taking 'bad trips'

once i found out
that i would do it all again
Zachary May 2014
You told me-
I could be honest,
With my emotions

And here I am,
Being blunt

Without shaming me,
Would you have accepted it
As easily as it was to
Flick a knife out of its sheath

But lately,
I learned something from you

That it was okay to cry
It was more than okay to talk
About the beasts that held me down

In simplest terms,
I miss you,
The way a duckling misses it's mother

And that was petty

I wasn't sorry,
For getting attached-
I was sorry,
For letting you know the way I did

When a flower gets its petals ripped
Does it get back up?
Is it useless then after?

Or-
Does it-

What happens then?

I'm sorry,
But I'm not
Zachary Jan 2014
I never could quite convince myself
That I would one day be an artist

In my eight year old brain,
I knew artists were ones who
Decorated my school halls
With these portraits of blues and greens

But one day it clicked,
And I realized artists
Weren't just painters

There were some stains
That were left from ink rubbing on fingers
Instead of paint left on foreheads

And my form of portraits
Were conveyed through my mouth

When I mixed words together
They formed crimson,
The color of dry blood after
A long night of bar fights

And they formed cerulean,
The color of oceans and skies
Torn apart by an industrialized era

They mixed to form fuchsia,
The pink that any man or woman should love
A color that was deemed girly
But was bold enough to attract attention

My art came from my mouth
Instead of from a brush
Dipped into a palette

And my body whispered love songs
For the price of 1.99
You could get two poems and
A harsh rebuke of reality

And I knew I was different
For I could make people
Shut the hell up and listen
And see where they were at fault

And it wasn't with a quickly drawn portrait
Of two men fighting side by side
One with a sword
And another with a rock
But it was with a pen
Where both men had nothing
And they were nothing
But just words
Zachary Apr 2014
You are nicotine
Embedded under my nails

A coat of filth
Superglued under my tongue

A dance of fire
Coated in gasoline

Foam cannot distinguish you

A mystery to behold
Knowledge spanning centuries

Hitting rock bottom
Until you dug below the stone

You were my rock bottom

I never know how to say
Just what it is

Tongue-twisted
And poetry spewing

You were someone
I wasn't looking for
But found in the dead of night
Zachary Dec 2013
We, as women, are told to be a certain thing

We are told to do this
To not do this
To get in the kitchen
And make you a sandwich

Pushed to have the figure of a goddess
Or, close to a Victoria Secret model
Without being able to work out
Because that would take time from house chores

Molded to have perfect manners
And never speak, unless spoken to
Always say "Yes" and "Please"
To not have thoughts of your own
Spend your time at home,
But have the knowledge of a scholar

Demanded to get married
Before you even finish college
And have children just as quick

As men,
We are told to bear all responsibilities
Expected to be the moneymaker
And have a job where you go each day

You are the protector
Used as a shield
And then discarded just as easily

Made to have a Calvin Klein body
With matching biceps
When you have different,
They look at you as if you are strange
Another species

Forced to think and act one way
To match the norms
Think about *** and *****
Or which party you'll be going to next

Now tell me,
Who truly has it harder?
Zachary Jan 2014
the first time I saw death
it wasn't on a morgue table
it wasn't lying in the middle of the street
it was in the reflection of glass
hollowed eyes- staring at nothing
gaunt angles that were easier then a voodoo recipe
distortion in every crook and cranny
picking at skin
that left bruises
the size of your palm
and the color of night
the first time I saw death
it wasn't in a hospital bed
or in a field of rotten daisies
it was in the reflections around me
Zachary Feb 2014
I inhaled you like
the fumes from a Chevy
saturated my lungs
soiled my insides
and I told you anyway
that you were the oil
that kept me running
Zachary Dec 2013
The bells are tingling, crescendoing impatiently, creating a ruckus of taps within your chemically imbalanced head

Your hands shake with all the untold words, bottled up within your throat and unable to explode like a volcano of molten rock until people stand in shock and admire not the destruction but the beauty

You enclose yourself into a small corner as soon as their is an unknown force that you cannot adequately deal with and hope they leave soon so you can lower your defenses just a bit; for you are afraid of leaving the house and being stared down until you run away like a kicked dog with his tail tucked between his legs

You apologize for things you didn't do, not out of guilt but because you feel obligated to

For you see, when you have social anxiety it is hard to communicate with anyone, even yourself. You live in fear of saying the wrong thing, of messing something up, of splitting apart like an egg cracked in the middle and all the yolk spilling out beyond your hands reaches

When you were a child, you would ask the closest person to hold your hands and count to ten, and that closest person was usually yourself

Your heart flutters like a butterflies  wings flapping wildly in a storm

Your breathing shudders as you try urgently to not shed tears not from sadness but from fear

Some describe social anxiety as naught but a tiny fear when in reality it is more like treading open water in the middle of nowhere with no help in sight, and the waves threaten to push you down until you are far out of reach

Some imagine people with anxiety as being introverts, when in reality it also happens to extroverts. It happens to all races, genders, and sexualities

When you live with anxiety, it is all you can think about. You strategize how to survive each obstacle of the day

One thing you can tell them to do if you cross paths and you notice their shallow breathing and their shaking and sweaty palms is to just

Breathe.
Zachary May 2014
They told me to watch out for
Boys with owl eyes
And downy hair

They told me to watch out for
Boys who refused no
Who ripped girls
And boys
To shreds and discard them
Like rag dolls

They didn't warn me
What to do
When the one I loved-
The one I created a solar system for-

What to do
When they walked away

What to do
When the black hole
Pranced back into their life

They didn't warn me
About boys with soft hands
And words like venom
Zachary Dec 2013
1.** When you would see him,
You would think he was the most beautiful creature
But when he kissed the palm of your hands,
They left a trail of fire that burned
A hole the size of the Milky Way

You convinced yourself each night
After the last person,
You wouldn’t fall back in
For writing creates the same pain
As loving someone does

2. You kept me tucked between your lips
Like a tab in a worn book that
You can flip back to when you are bored and lonely

3. You taught me how to keep
My words in my head
Stuck to my tongue
Like sandpaper rubbing back and forth on metal
To pick my words carefully
To filter my thoughts out

4. You were the equivalent to
An ugly red infection that
Needed to be surgically removed
But instead was picked out with a fork

5. He does not love you
He is not your Prince Charming
He will not come for you in the pouring rain
Stop waiting.

6. He sees you as a child
With more growing to do
You were a ****** up enormity
That needed to find its place

Years beyond your age
But sometimes you would question
Who the older one truly was

7. Two beings on different trails
One was a star
And the other was a tree
Deeply rooted to its morals
And the other flying around freely

He bought you things
Without being asked
Visited you
And even kissed you
He thought you were beautiful
But he stopped
And he left
And he will not return

8. He does not worry for you
He did not think twice when
You told him you wanted to **** yourself
He did not say anything
But stare
When he saw your scarred arms
With all the past experiences
Each one whispering
A new story
A new person
And a new future

9. His eyes
Were full of life
While yours
Were dull and
He knew then,
What monstrosity you were inside

When he said
“An outlet for what is upstairs”
You translated it as
“An outlet to get away from me”
“An outlet to leave me alone”
“An outlet to
Cover up the past
And patch up the future”

10. He burned you
Out of his life
Like a cigarette ****
Against a wooden table
Or a glass tray
That he found lost in his attic
And you did too
It took time,
And lots of nights spent crying
But you did,
And you are free.

— The End —