I feel so utterly replaceable.
I feel like feeling anything at all is dangerous.
Times before I used to just bottle it up
pretending I was happy, nothing else.
Biting my tongue became routine
and anger was the only emotion I possessed
on days that weren't so happy.

And I say **** that,
because I'm tired of hiding behind a smile
faking that everything is okay
when clearly I know that it's not.

I will not walk on glass
to keep you safe.
I will not pick the shards from my feet
just so you can sit back and apologize
for being the weight that I carry.
You can give me whatever treatment you wish,
but do not expect me to put up with it.

I wrote you poems and prose,
and it seems as if my words are not enough.
I worry and it seems to be too much.

So I'm sorry if the effort I make
to not be the person I was
is way too much for you to handle.
But the things I do
and the words I write
are mostly for you.

But don't ever think
I will change who I am for your benefit.
Never will I go back to biting my tongue
punching walls and pent up aggressions.
You told me not to worry,
so that's exactly what I'll do.

The space between your fingers
will soon feel the wind.
The space next to you in bed
will soon feel the cold.

Hanging on empty words
and feeling the wrath
of someone else's mistake
is something i've dealt
with for far too long.
Love me with all you have,
or don't ******* love me at all.

I try too hard for you
and I guess you feel the same.
I can't read your mind.
I'm tired of being the one you blame.

All i've ever wanted is to help you,
to be the one to paint a smile across you face.
But you send me away with the wind,
and hope I never come back again.

I tread lightly,
hoping not to step on the land mines that surround my subconscious.
Because every step ahead is somehow in the wrong direction
and it seems to me that last thing people want from me,
is my own happiness.

And it's like everything I want to write somehow
crumbles beneath my fingers and I can't grasp
the simple concept of a pen in my hand,
and it seems like whenever I try too hard
nothing turns out the way I want
and when I don't try at all and these words
just pour from my veins
like the slits that used to form on my wrists,
and it's all so ******* beautiful and different.
But when I think, even for a split second,
about the words I want to write down
and how I want to write them
nothing, nothing at all comes out
and I'm tired of not ******* knowing,
anything, everything all the ******* time.

Am I a good writer,
or am I only a good writer in the distress
that life puts upon these shoulders
that are withered and weak
sore from the constant internal abuse,
and the lashes that leave your lips
leave bruises upon my fingertips
and my hand becomes crippled.

I can't ******* write anymore,
and maybe if I could I would feel a little better
about who I am and what I am becoming.
but these fingers, these fingers are mountains
and no one seems to want to take the chance
to climb to the top and see the beautiful view I create.
Not even myself.

I have written, probably over 200 pieces of poetry
since the time I have been 9 years old
and they all sound the ******* same.
stanza stanza stanza stanza
sorrow, mournful, love, depression, more sorrow.
and I don't know how the **** to change.

I'm sorry I don't know how to ******* change,
I wish I could open your eyes to the beauty of it all
but it's only madness and the only beauty of it
is what someone feels they interpret from it.

This love, is not easy
never has been, never will be.
but somehow I never want to lose it,
I never want to let it go.
I want to write everyday,
even when my fingers crumble
under the weight of a heavy pen
and a heavy heart.
I will prosper and write and write
and ******* write again.

This life will not lead to my destruction,
nor will this pen.
The only one who can end my story,
is me.
So get the **** out of my way.

I've traced maps and shorelines across my own skin
to find exactly what it is I mean to you
and I have found it's just a mere puddle.  
The knife in my back pocket
is still a sharp reminder
to always watch where others stand.
Beside or behind you, they're both dangerous places.
I have spent years building mountains
around myself so no one would get close enough
to climb and I turn those mountains into excuses
and somehow let you in.

The heart on my sleeve is worn out like the latest trend
and i'm not too into fashion.
But fasten your paper heart onto mine like a seatbelt
and my tears will disintegrate what is left of it-
Together we will crash and burn.
I have spent my days paranoid and cautious
of what surrounds me and I can't help but wonder
Do all of these pictures I paint with words
even mean anything to you?
Or are they arbitrary and insignificant
like my defense mechanism while looking in the mirror-
my reflection seems to win every time.

You painted your apologies across my lips
and told me I look better without makeup.
I will not fight for your consideration.
I will not mourn over what should be mandatory.

i'm not afraid of heartbreak anymore-
if I do wind up having every inch
of my sanity taken and my heart shattered
I wouldn't blink.
Although my body would tremble
under the crippling weight
from the pressure of your absence
I would pick up my pen
and the blood pumping through my veins
would spill out before me onto a blank page
finally filled with everything I've never said to you.

You can break my heart and I won't blink.
I will harness that pain in my heart
and turn it into something beautiful and painful.
I will cry into a page left weathered with my emotions
but I will pick myself back up and realize that this is art.
You have always been my muse..
and it would be a pleasure
to have my heart broken by you.
To me, you've always been beautiful
even when you weren't on paper.

safety in my mind is a seven letter word
and you may not believe me now
as our bodies are caressing the hands of time
stopping everything in our minds
that could potentially break us both.
Or even when our heartbeats
are directly in sync with one another
redirecting the orchestra of years
that were spent misguided by the ones
who are the reason for our trust issues.
But baby it is you.

I can honestly say I've never felt this way,
because I've written a poem for about
**** near every person I know
but not as many as I've written about you
and my hands as they type for you,
are like a self-portrait for how I feel
except I can't quite get your ****** features right
even if I harnessed every aspect of your beautiful soul
bottled it up and turned it into a collage of color
it still wouldn't do you justice
and I know all poets write about love,
but see the thing is I don't know how to write about love
or if this writing is even right, or if my mind has just left-
because this feeling is far beyond any **** I've ever felt
and I am ******* scared...
but euphoric at the same **** time.

Like falling down and scraping you're knee
while you're running for the ice cream truck,
or like the monster under your bed reaching for your feet
just to give you a candy bar.
I feel like such a kid again.

And your eyes **** your eyes
warp me into a world I've never known
and whisk me off my feet faster than my ability
to even think of what to say in this next line
because I don't know how to make sense of this
and I'm not even sure I want to.
Because if I could explain it in words,
that would take away from the beauty
behind the rarity and the innocence of this madness
and everyone else would try to find it
and harness it into this little jar we call a heart
and live inside of it, never coming out again.

****, ever since my dog died
I thought I would never love again.
Ever since my first boyfriend in eighth grade
took my heart from my chest, polished it
and played hacky sack between him and my best friend
I thought I would never love again.

Looking into your eyes for the very first time
( and I think about this moment every day )
was the most scared I have ever been
mostly because I saw who I really was reflected in them.

Ever since every person of interest,
would leave me for another
I thought the idea of love was stupid.
and ever since I saw my parents
treat each other like ****,
I thought the idea of love was stupid.

But **** did you disprove it.

No one can take this away from me,
except for you.
So if you must take a piece of me
when it comes time for you to go
I ask it be the piece of myself
I saw inside of your eyes
that very first day
because the way you saw me
is the way you've always seen me
and a way that I've never actually seen myself.
I want you to keep that image of me  
because if you go you may never see it again.

I strive for any sense of sanity my body has left
and you could inject lithium into my bloodstream
all you wanted but that will never take away
the stream of conscious to which I face every **** day.
And I speak these words in a volume only sincere ears
could hone into and leech off of for their own sanity,
but things are never that easy.
Affirmation is like a drug and sanity like a ghost
you get addicted to those things in which
we are not usually accustomed to
that sincerity so comforting it's hard to let go.
Most people do drugs to forget,
but ******* with you,
I want to remember every single moment-
harness it inside my memory and save it as draft
so I can post it to my retinas later that night
when I'm loosing sleep because I cannot rid of the ghosts
I've spent both my night and day fighting off.

I want to crash and burn
I want to live a life like all the crazy poets
and authors and writers that never held dear to their sanity
they embraced their madness and embarked on a journey
throwing away any sense of normalcy they had.

But maybe, I should do as you say
or do as my father says-
ya know,  just deal with my problems on my own.
It's kind of crazy because you both say the same thing
which leads me to believe that women do end up
marrying their fathers which I fear-
more than any other obstacle in my life
because my broken wings were built upon my fathers shoulders
and upon mine is more weight than I can carry,
So i'm sorry you've become a muse for my misplaced sanity
and a drawing board for my dilemmas
but baby, you have not seen dramatic.
Not from me at least and it's not safe for me
to hide this part of myself away from you..
But it's like you want me to.
And one day, oh god one day
I will crack under the pressure placed upon these shoulders
and try to fly with these broken wings
and I will crash and burn like alll those people
and it's then I will realize
that hiding away this part of myself
in spite of everything I know,
will be the best and the worst thing I've ever done.

and I'm so ******* tired,
that tired isn't even the word to describe it,
more like futile or unavailing because
I hide away parts of myself for the ones I love
and they itch to come at the surface like a growing tick
ready to explode distracted by euphoria filling it's stomach.
I am not okay, and I'm kind of tired of acting like it.
I am a ticking time bomb
ready to blow your ******* head off at any second
one you will never be able to disable-
and this, this is manic depression.
I wish it was as beautiful as Hendrix made it seem.

you have felt the repercussions of love,
just as I have
but with more passion
than I could ever fathom.
heartbreak has molded you
into this person to whom I confide.

I know not about your past,
but I worry about our future
and if that heartbreak
is always on your mind,
even at times when I’m not.

The one who left you cold and broken
is the one to where my concern stems.
Unfinished business is meant to be completed,
but please don’t break me too.

I would try to write about your eyes
and say all the sappy love **** I can muster
but you are more than that..
I would tell you how you are like a safety net
below a burning building
placed a little too close to the flames
but you are more than that..
I can't describe you exactly,
just like the universe you are ineffable
and just like life you are inexplicable.

I have witnessed my mother
brush swiftly passed never-again
as the contents of the bottle hit her palms.
I have seen the light removed
from my grandmothers eyes
as the life was taken from her lips
but it seems to me, being with you
is the closest to death I've ever been.
I have fought off death's name
with broken knuckles and battered wrists
but this time, only this time-
I think I'll let it win.

I hang onto the edge of your tongue
like a cliff that holds my obituary
written in it's stone structure-
as if every word you speak could change me
or send me flying over the edge-
forever falling, with no sense of security.
I have been bent and broken
and twisted and misconstrued  
into a shape I am no longer familiar with-
I am a mere figment of what once was
a shadow hidden in the dark alleys
and bed sheets of my subconscious.
Who I was is now just a ghost
and when resurrection is a rarity
I'm not sure there's anyway to make it back.
It seems the only time I am enough
is when I am putting on a smile
or kissing the traces of your neck
I left the dark side of myself behind when we first meet.
Seems I am the girl you hide away
inside your bedroom and your sheets.
The girl you sleep with, and sleep next to
but one you never seem to exit your comfort zone for.
I am more than just an everyday routine.
Please, just try for me. That's all I need.
Who I once was isn't who I am now..
So please give me back a fraction
of what I have left behind for you.

I take time to remember that the things which broke me
are also the same things that rebuilt me.
I take time to look at my father
and his reaction when I told him
the hands of time which he had no control over
withered my being with a bottle and made me trust men a little less.
I take time to remind my mother
that my issues with affirmation don't come from
never being in love or being alone a little too much
they come from long work days and even longer nights
spent bickering about the child that I see across the halls
that he sees when he looks into the mirror hating himself.
I take time to remember the wall I had my back pinned against
was cold like the winter seasons I spent hiding away
from torment and never descending vocals
attempting to outshine each other
one backhanded comment at a time-
and that it was never my downfall
never what held me back as person or made me afraid.
My downfall was with each slap in the face
that was literal or figurative I figured it was my fault.
But we can't help the hells in which we face
even if those hells are stained red across our faces
I have felt the pain.
I have remembered every moment I tried so hard to repress
and knew the tragedy it had brought me.
But with each moment of sorrow is another story
another reason my fingers hit these keys
instead of letting someone else hit me
I have seen the thunderstorms and slept under dark clouds
awaiting the moment I get struck by lightening.
Death is imminent, as well as pain and happiness
without them we would never appreciate ourselves
and each of our little hells inside of heads and our bodies
that have spent years waiting for validation.
We don't come with receipts, we are non transferrable.
We are that sweater you hate to love
and those old, raggedy boots that match every outfit
that at the end of the day you couldn't throw away if you tried.
The fight isn't over, it starts inside of us with each breathe we take
and the thoughts and feelings we possess are just soldiers
on the war path to defeat whatever life tries to throw our way.
I don't believe in most things..
but I do believe in me
so why should believing in anything else matter
when you have an entire war raging inside of you
just waiting, patiently for it's moment to attack.

some days I want to die,
lay my intestines out on the line
amongst the shattered pieces of myself,
just for everyone I love to see -
to remind them just how fragile
my bones can be.

some days I love to live,
to dance in the rays of the sunshine
while my feet feel the earth
touching my heart one blade of grass at a time
knowing exactly what it feels like
to be truly alive.

and some days I feel both at the same time,
lonely and aware of all the tragedy
but the sun is shining and the sky is full
with clouds that kiss the blue, kiss my blue-
and then I remember you.

A person should never dictate your happiness,
but what do I do when your mouth is on mute
and the words you do happen to speak to me are short
and unaware of the intensity they have
on these fragile bones I possess.
I can't help but feel like every word or lack there of
is a land mine waiting for my approach,
so caution is my middle name
and I don't know how to explain
these thoughts that race through my mind
and compete in an anxiety induced triathlon-
except to say that I'm scared
one day you'll wake up,
and won't feel the same way..

We ******-

It was my first time,
but... it surely wasn't your first time.
Although it was your first time with me
and it wasn't exactly love making
because though we told each other
"I love you"
I still wasn't sure exactly how to make it,
just how to say it.
You were my first time,
saying I love you and I think that was harder,
than actually ******* you.
And as a poet, these details become stanzas
for others ears to hang onto like a leech,
******* out every last emotion and turning
into a self-sacrifice of one's own interpretation.

You make it soooo easy,
but at the same time you make it so ******* hard.
like the way at times, I can't find the words to rhyme
so I just make these words I speak to you run-on sentences
that never exactly end, just keep going
until i find some other **** to say to you to make you smile,
or **** you off, because i'm actually really good at that
in fact, i love the way you call me out on my *******.
The way I want to dye my hair crazy ******* colors,
but you turn up your nose and tell me no I shouldn't,
which I admire because I would probably regret it.

You're not afraid to tell me how you feel
you don't fear I will flip out or cry or cuss you out,
and I love you for that.
because for so long i've had people
walk around me like I was at the edge of insanity,
waiting until i was pushed to my imminent death.
But baby, you just don't care
because you are on that edge with me
swinging your feet along the side,
lifting your head back and screaming
"man, what a ******* ride."

We made love.
and i'm not sure if we really did,
but ******* it felt like it
because right then
your body was the only one
I ever wanted, ever again.
I'm not sure if that's ******* insane
because I don't believe in forever
and I'm not sure I believe in happily ever after.
But ******* baby, you took the pen from  my hand
and wrote me a novel with your lips across my skin
and made me forget about every single person,
who ripped open my chest, tore my heart out at the seems
and took a piece of me with them.
The story you wrote hasn't ended,
it's still being written
and like a chose your own adventure novel,
i'm not sure where this is gonna go..
or if what I say will send me down a snake hole
poisoning my mind with negativity
or have me fighting off the evil ninjas
out to control my thought process
but ****, i'm willing to risk it
because although i'm not sure where will this will take me,
i'm along for the ride and you have me hooked
with every paragraph and run-on sentence
you trace across my skin.
and like the wise words of Miles Hodges,
"your head was great baby but your mind,
your mind was the night before a revolution."

You were my first,
love, ****, and then love again
and you taught me things
I never thought my mind had the capability of processing.
Yeah, I still hate your ******* ex girl-friends
and your pictures together make my stomach curl,
and if I ever see her out in public that *****...
it doesn't matter,
because I am yours and you are mine
and I am prettier than she is anyways...
****, it doesn't matter
because nothing matters when I am with you
and it's kind of ****** up, in the best way.

I have never felt the loneliness that I do without you,
and I'd like to think that means something special.
You make me write happy poems..
I haven't written a happy poem since I was 9
and I'd like to think that means something special.
I may not be able to dye my hair funky colors,
or pierce my eyebrow
but **** that's just my manic depression talking anyways,
and it's funny because
no matter how much things around me change
or how much I count the days until I fade away.
There's one thing in my mind that stays
and that's the way I feel about you...

We ******-
and it wasn't cute
or tragic like the movies make it out to be.
It was you, and it was me-
and for the first time I felt safe...
No flashbacks or panic attacks,
just your eyes, a little worried
and that's when I kinda knew
I made the right choice
loving you.

take my open wounds and
slice them with the razor blade
that is your tongue and
make me wonder why I stick around.
I can’t help the hells I have faced
and I know what is true.
But you take my tragedy
and tie it to your train of thought
sending it to another place
so you don’t have to deal
or ever feel anything other than
your own ignorant bliss.
i told you in confidence
and got overshadowed by your doubt
and suddenly she became crazy,
which means maybe I am too
because I am a product of my
own inane environment
and how do I separate
from what surrounds me
when it’s all I have left.

I have dealt with the beer can
antics and the intoxicated ignorance
for far too long to just
push it to the back of my mind.
I’m not sure if you’re an *******,
or you have that much trouble
being an empathetic person.
But you will never understand the
tides I have faced or the hells
i have stumbled through
weak and unaware of what’s ahead.
I have been turned into nothing more
than a punching bag for misplaced
anger and a lashing tongue
for pent up aggression
and not i’m not sure if this
is making the wounds I carry heal
over with a skin thats thick as glass
or if the skin i am in is just withering away
with every word you speak to me.
I’m tired of the tragedy,
just give me some sense of normality.

the waves wash over me as the momentum of the minute consoles me
but there is no consolation, no consolidation
I am alone with only my irrationality that leads to sedation.
and when I sleep, dreams don't mean a thing
except lucidity and restlessness and trauma of being.  
But being me is more than just waves and sunsets,
sorry to upset, but I am no daisy or garden
I am uneasy eyes, where everyone is a suspect.
So respect my wishes when I tell you no
Because I know, that no never means yes to me
it means satisfaction to some, sorrow to most
and i'm done being buttered up like your morning toast
with that perfect crunch that you finish like it's your last meal..
My smile is my *** appeal.

So slither your tongue with verbs etched with sin,
and i'll let you paint your picture across my skin.
But this is no love poem, or rhyme scheme rendition
this is what satisfaction looks like when it's written
and I've watched myself die inside a mirror
found myself drowning in a ocean much clearer
but the salt kissed my wounds and my bruises
and reminded me, no one ever loses.
Chances are like a fine wine
followed by slow dancing and slowed time.
& I get confused sometimes with the way
you say my name and then sigh.
Don't say you will leave me
Just say you will love me.
Don't say you will touch me
Just say you will trust me.

because i've never known home until i heard your voices tone,
and I condone most things like kissing your insecurities
and falling in love with your tragedy but baby,
there's so much more to me.
I can see only with one eye because in the other i'm half blind,
but i will never turn a blind eye to the tides of your rise
and even your fall but baby, this is my kryptonite
and my light at the end of this dark dingy dim tunnel,
this all so ******* fundamental, the way you make me mental.
I'm so ******* metal.
Hard as ****, and I **** like I'm hard - to love
but I'm easy - like sunday morning  not easy like,
hormonal and *****, you can take my layers of lust and peel-
My smile is my *** appeal.

I have turned into everything I've ever avoided.
I danced in the moonlit darkness of my father
and soaked in the rays of my mothers tragedy.
Vitamin D is only injected into my bloodstream
by judging eyes and objecting vocals.

I never wanted you to tap dance
around my ribcage or fornicate with my insecurity.
I never wanted you to feel like my eyes
washed over you with judgement day protocol..
I wanted you to be free inside of me
so I could take away every fear and instance
that makes you feel insane
and unchain it from every misinterpretation
hung around your neck.
I wanted to be the one you could save,
so that I could be the one to save you too.

My problems are not found in you
and somehow I found refuge
in my dark tainted past
but i'm tired of that being my excuse
it's my sad reality but I don't want it.
You shouldn't have to break, to fix me.
You shouldn't have to melt
to fit into the cracks you are so busy avoiding.

I have turned into my father,
unpredictable and manic.
I have turn into my mother,
paranoid and problematic.
I don't know exactly who I am,
but i'm sure this isn't it.

I will not be a shining example
of the apple that doesn't fall far from the tree.
I will not be the *** that calls the kettle black...
I am my own destruction but I will rebuild me,
because you shouldn't have to.

never break my heart,
because I will take every piece
you so harshly left
and stab your mind
with poems and prose
and you will no longer
be just a person
who came and went,
you will turn into
destruction and paper thin
apologies that you will never rid of.
I will turn you into paper cuts
barely there, but painful nonetheless,
reminding you every time you
attempt to wash away your regrets.

Do not break a writers heart, they will find beauty in your destruction and never, ever let you forget it.

I told myself when I write
everything I do will somehow be unique
but I've started 20 poems off this way
and ended them 20 different ways.
I would throw my sanity out the window
for just some peace of mind
and a mind you wouldn't mind
reading on top of mountains
and in front of millions.
But my sanity is what is needed most-
so take my hands and tie them to a typewriter
because this is my sanity
and a piece of my mind.

I have a way with words
and I have grown accustomed
to clinging onto metaphors
and reading way too into your lips
because they tell me things
your mouth does not have the guts to confess.
In my world, words are a blessing and a curse
and I've spent so long biting my tongue
that i'm not sure I even have one left.
So I apologize if my words are like swords
and pierce your heart like a fatal blow to the chest
But I am trying my best.

Years have been spent
hiding how I feel
So I promised myself
I wouldn't hide in dark corners
or cover my mouth with regret
I would speak with my truth
in a tone that only genuine ears
could comprehend.
So I let the words pour out my lips
unaltered and honest.
and I'm not sure if that is satisfying,
or my biggest regret.

How do I escape
when the negativity
nooses circumstance around my neck
and ties it to my every insecurity.
It’s like my surroundings feed
off of what I hate the most-
I am constantly barraged
by resentment for the people I should love
and I read too much into things
that I should let go.
But how do I change what
i’ve spent most of my life
chained to?

The walls that surround me
are more like a cage
where negativity and sorrow
collide, crash and then burn
holes in my way of thinking.

Positivity is hard to come by
when every step you take
is like a drive-by shooting
you somehow planned
for the sole intent
of making your life hang
on the edge of a chair
waiting for the death row pardon.

Death wishes don’t come often for most-
but in the dead of the night
when I am alone and weeping
over the spilt milk I have slipped
and broke my backbone on,
I realize they come too often for me.

When the night whispers softly
into your subconscious
reminding you of all the things
you wish you didn’t remember,
curl up with your favorite pillow
grasp your bulletproof vest
of a good book into your
sin stained fingertips
and remember,
the night never wins,
because eventually
it must turn into dawn.

my blood boils over the edge as every word
that spills from your lips is volcanic ash piercing my skin
and how is one supposed to stay calm
when my life has been spent bottling up
way more than I can hold,
this routine is getting old.
I can't take the constant trembling of my upper lip
and quivering of my limbs
I'm not too sure how long I can hold this in.
I take two steps back and inhale deep
but it's still not enough to help me
rid of these demons that won't let me sleep.
Every ******* waking moment
is spent fighting a war I didn't sign up for.
I was involuntarily shipped out
to surroundings unknown and places unseen
in my mind is only chaos and blatant disorder.
So **** the fact I can't think clear enough
to jot down the words exploding from my mind,
but I have a right to explode...
I have kept my cool for far too long.
My mental stability will be revolutionized,
I have the right to do so.

every word out of my mouth, to you
is like I’m breaking a bone beneath your wings
but you are not the angel that you seem.
every step I seem to muster up the courage to take
apparently isn’t in the right direction.
It feels as if everything I do is in front of a jury
but to you, my face is stained with sin
and no matter what, I am guilty.
I’m tired of being a dart board
for your pent up aggression
or a punching bag for your bottled emotions.
I will not apologize for being myself,
you have made me feel inadequate for far too long.
Every word you speak is a lash in my direction
and you wonder why I shy away from your presence.
You speak to me as if I am death ready to drown you
kicking my thoughts into the ground
one backhanded comment at a time.
There’s nothing I can do to make you change,
even if the tides of fate swarmed over you
holding the sands of time above your head
you’d still tell me, something along the lines of
"I wish you were dead."
Peace of mind doesn’t come often
for me it never seems to appear at all.
One day you will fall from the high horse
you have sat yourself upon and you will break.
then, only then, you will see,
chastising my every move, was your biggest mistake.

I wanted to write a poem
but the tips of my fingers
froze on impact and touched nothing
but the memories you left on my skin.
My mind was tainted by the scars
left behind from the prison that is my mind.
I am kind hearted and gentle
but the tragedy that is life
feeds off my mentality
like the waves feed off the wind
And I can't help but feel like
i'm drowning in the chaos
that has invaded my mind
So I turn cold and emotionless.

The soft kisses from your resin stained lips
are the only bliss I have ever known.
Your kind words and gentle nature
the only love i've ever been shown.
Writers remorse is rekindled with tragedy
so what am I supposed to write
when the remorse turns to rebellion
and my heart's fire ignites with a passion
I never knew I possessed.
Nevertheless, I am content
so how are my fingers
going to consent to writing solemnly
when I don't think I have it in me.
I am happy,
and as a writer
that will be the death of me.

I was never taught what to do
in a circumstance where
age was just a number
but I didn't know any better.
I knew not about sexuality
only polly pockets and barbies.
I was only seven.
But somehow that circumstance
was uncircumcised
and he made me realize
dolls are just pretend
but this world,
this world is real
and it will steal your words
leave you with wounds
and take your sanity
in just one dark cold night.
I didn't know it wasn't okay-
I had thought this was normal
and every kid my age was like this.
But I knew something was off
when the generosity stopped
and the guilt started.  
It was then I realized
this isn't something I will grow out of
this has become a part of who I am.
I'm not sure if this scar will ever fade
but not a day goes by where I wish
I had done something to stop it.
I was young and naive
and longing for attention.
Somehow I was subject to the wrong kind
Where there should have been love
there was lust
where there should have been affirmation
there were bruises.
So maybe I just wanted someone to notice
I wasn't okay
It wasn't okay

But I still hold this inside me
latched onto my subconscious
like a virus
sickening the only sense of mentality I have left.
No one knows the secrets I hold
and I'm not sure if that's good or bad.
Though from time to time
I am reminded of his face
barraged by his presence
I somehow keep it together
because in my mind
I am living
and he is just a ghost.
Although, I wasn't okay,
although, It wasn't okay.
I will be, okay.

I wish I could formulate-
into poems and stories,
fiction and film
the way your eyes
show the innocence of love
and the vulnerability of trust.
I lost myself when I found you-
in the most extreme way
I found double entendre's
inside your tone of voice
and sibilance in your silence.
But it was never your intent
it was and has always been
my greatest downfall
putting more into others
than I will ever get back in return.
Slowly, I am crawling back to
the skin I used to find comfort in
and the smile I used to hide behind.
You brought me out from underneath
the mask I had spent years painting
beneath my eyelids
and above my cheekbones.
The scars from my old skin have faded,
but the wounds from my mind are still present.
It may take some time
but I will form a new exterior
and it will no longer be just a mask
I will run far from the person
that didn't quite love herself
and I will run into your arms
no more self harm.

I am madness,
and sunshine while it rains
but I am no rainbow
there's no light at the end of this tunnel
only darkness
lit by florescent counterfeits.
I am a wind storm
messy, never dangerous
but always unpredictable.
I have spent my days
worried with things I cannot control
and I so badly want
something I can hold close to.
But I am solid as a rock
and when I approach you
it will cause some damage.
I have known for a long time
that loving me is hard
because I've tried
and even I get tired.
I am clay,
easily molded
but when left dry and untouched
I turn to stone.
It may take some time,
but even a diamond
needs pressure
to be beautiful.

people are never just people
they are volcanos and mountains
gardens and skyscrapers-
beauty, that will eventually
lead to destruction.
the thing is-
you can never un-feel something,
or something for someone.
I had hoped some things would
magically vanish in an instance,
but they latched onto my memory
and played hop scotch with my nerves
as my mind ran rapid with paranoia.
I had wished at a young age
someone would love me more
than my father did
and show me more attention
than my mother did.
But see expectations
tie a knot around your hopes
and noose it to the ceiling fan
you watch as they spin
round and round and round
until they break everything
in their path.
See people don't come with a warning,
because we're all not really sure,
what we're actually capable of.

I succumb to the uncertainty
as I give myself to you completely.
and when our lips creatively collide
I realize that I've always
been really good at cutting ties-
I tug on your heartstrings
and somehow it seems
i've lost the same knife
that once cut me deep,
making me believe in nothing..

I wished for security,
in ways only you could
lock around my uncontrollable conscious.
I just wished for sanity,
inside your warm embrace
but you scolded me with your backfire,
and scorned me with your tongue.
The only thing I ever really need
is your action to yell down my throat
and jump my bones,
but your words are silent
and my bones are chilled.  
Seems my nerves have been shot
and you loaded the gun
So I grow weak as anxiety overwhelms me
whilst I sit on top of this mountain
of circumstance that’s been built for me.
I’m sorry I can’t control time,
or the way things workout for the worst
but maybe you need to realize
that you need me,
just as much as I needed you.

i’ve spent days giving you,
valleys and oceans of myself.
I have spent weeks investing
whatever I had left into
something i’m not sure
even works anymore.

I have felt deceit and treachery,
I’ve known the heartbreak that is love
but I never thought affirmation
would become like a drug
withheld from my hands
and ripped from my lips.

I have searched for sanity,
in several different places
but only found it in you,
so I’m sorry if these oceans
are too much
and these valleys
not enough
but I have given you my all
and gotten back only pieces

so forgive me,
if i feel this isn’t fair treatment
and forgive me
for expecting so much more.
all i ever ask for are
rose petals and kisses.
but i’m starting to think
that’s just too much.

I can’t help but live inside my head
and play all the games it invites me to,
but I guess that’s how we’re sane.
My love for you remains

but can you say the same?

every waking moment is spent wondering
and anxiously awaiting another faulty moment-
another reason to write a poem
another reason to spill my guts.
I've always had such a way with words
except for when they were slipping
from my loose lips or trying to convince.
So for some inane reason I tend to fixate
on the reasons why my mind and heart
play tug of war with my nerves
leaving my body emotionless and numb.
More than often I am conflicted on approach-
So I succumb to the negativity that is my circumstance.
I was never one to play the victim
or dwell on the things of lesser importance
but it seems tragedy comes everyday
and sanity is far few in between.
I have tried to grip tightly on the idea of normalcy-
it just sounds like a good way to realize
that you're actually more broken than you know.
In some ways I am hoping that I will learn
why the tides of grief wash over me like the waves
or why the sands of time tend to turn me to dust.
But I am just one feather of a desert eagle
shooting holes through logic and mental stability
finding ways to undermine the melancholy
spending days searching for my sanity.

I have spent the days
memorizing the shape of your lips
and the way your voice
seems to whisper my name
in the most comforting tone
I have ever let my ears hear.
I try to shut out most things
like the way even after
half a year, six months
you still give me the butterflies
that corrupted my stomach
on that very first day.
I have kissed some lips
but none of them make a difference.
The only thing that’s ever
on my mind is you..
I have seen a thousand faces
and heard a million melodies
but none of them sing
like my heartbeat does
in your presence.
So I apologize if every instance
makes me worried that
you will no longer
be the chest to where I lay my head.
I apologize that you’re the only one
I wish to share my bed.
Please believe that I have walked
a thousand seas and waded
more than a million miles
only to find what I’d always been
looking for and that’s you.
My eyes opened to a world
never known.
You showed me a place called home.

fear lurks in the back of my mind
even the smallest chance of
anything making me scared means
running would be the only plausible option.

have you ever wondered
at all about the way your mind works
steady on the brink of insanity.

nothing comes close to
opening up yourself to someone only
to be disregarded and told
honey
its all in your head but you, you were
never one to give me
grief over things I could not control.

only you can make me feel this safe
no one else ever has

yes there are days when I will try to run
only to hear the sound of my feet hit the ground
until then, you're my only safe and sound.

what do you write
when you have no idea
what exactly it is you feel
but anxiety and nerves
and inadequacy.

My life has been spent
wondering if the way
I feel is actually okay
or if i'm just entirely delusional.

All I ever need is some effort
and affirmation
but it seems that
it must be too hard for people
so as I sit alone
no one to confide in
I wonder why I'm always
second best to those I put first.

Sorry for sounding redundant
but it seems everything I write
somehow sounds exactly the same.
So maybe, for the sake
of deja vu
I should just quite this too.

Not many things make me happy anymore
not even the curve of your lips
when you smile
because what good is all of that
if you don't even plan time
for me in your busy schedule.

I am a victim of my own self pity
and I have felt sorry for myself all my life.
But I'm sorry, I don't know how to change me.
I wish I could.
Goodnight.

for some sad sorry **** reason
I can't get over the pain I feel
it overwhelms me
more than most things
and I could live
five lifetimes
and twenty three tragedies
break new ground
infinite amount of times.
I could go from the brink
of crazy as **** and back
But still never be used
to the pain I feel.
Some people say physical pain
is worse to bare than mental pain
and on most days
when my stomach is tight
and i'm curled into a fettle
position clawing onto whatever
chance of peacefulness i have left,
I would agree.
But other days,
I clutch a pillow to my chest
and stuff my face into it
wishing I would lose my breath
and leave this hell hole
that is my way of thinking
and break free from the chains
that confine my ability to be happy.
But the best **** comes from the worst ****,
which is why I write this
and constantly have internal conflicts.
is mentality worse than fatality?
or is it all so ******* tragic
that we need to stop comparing
two forms of pain that
dont even ******* coincide.

I don't know about you,
but i'm ******* tired of fighting-
especially when it's a battle
I know I'll never win.
They have pills to take away the pain,
and pills to numb your brain
but what people can't comprehend is
it's all the ******* same.

I was never one to bite the tongue
that spits sharp and quick
with wit and fiery passion.
I was never one to bite my tongue.

I was never one to hold back
the vivacious, lively girl
with quick wit and passion.
I was never one to hide who I was.

But as much as the days change
so do I
and I'm beginning to wonder
if I had ever known exactly
who I was.
I was never one to second guess.

I wrote stories that could move the sun
and destroy every hope you had left
of your sweet sanity and crumble it
into an ineffable reality.
I was never one to double check.

But just like the seasons,
I changed, fast and fierce
because of a force unknown to man
that I spent years convincing myself
wasn't even real nor imaginary.
I was never one to believe in love.

Somehow it found me
and a way to dissemble
my quick wit
and set ablaze to my fiery passion.
It captured me in it's warm embrace
and promised me a lifetime
of security.

Just as it came
so did the loophole
and I realized quickly
that there was a time
where I must bite my tongue
and there is a place
where passion and fire cannot meet
and sometimes
you have to edit,
even your best work
on your worst days.

You see-
I was never one to bite my tongue,
I was never one to hide who I was.
I was never one to second guess,
I was never one to double check.

I was never one to believe in love
and when I did,
my eyes opened wide
and I had seen a world never shown
it was then I realized that
all those things I never did
had now become a part of my daily routine
maybe love, isn't as bad as I had made it seem.
and now, i may be a lot less sane
but my wit is a lot more keen.

The irony,
in simple posts from sea world,
"a whale and her baby,
showing you we care about the bond."
But if you "cared" at all about the bond,
you wouldn't restrict them
to small spaces and four walls,
you would never restrain them
into jail cells in comparison
to their size.
Do you ever wonder why animals rebel?
because the only concern
us humans have is for ourselves
and the most selfish thing
we do, is pretend to care.
Because if we cared,
those whales wouldn't rebel.
if we cared,
those monkey's wouldn't attack.
and if we cared,
we wouldn't spend hundreds
of thousands of dollars
to confine the things
we think we love.

if you love something,
you should let it go
right?
then why do we put
locks and chains
and cages around
the world's beauty
why do we enslave,
for our own personal enjoyment
the things we could just
hop in the car, drive to the land
and probably see ourselves?
this is not humane..

In a nation where we pride ourselves on freedom
all we do, is hold down the things we wish to save..
All we do, is silence the struggling.
All we do, is degrade the different.
So I'm asking, when are things going to change?
When will we stand up for a world
that we deserve to be in.
When will we make like monkeys and whales
and animals held down by circumstance
and bring down what's doing the same to us?

Do not turn a blind eye to the world around you
do not turn your back on things you think you can't control.
I know that the world you carry on your shoulders
weighs heavier on your conscious,
but it doesn't have to.

and it all starts with you..

I come from an environment
where change is an everyday routine
and people can flip their switch
at the strike of a match
so I apologize if every instance
of difference sends me spiraling
downward into a self inflicted
illusion that may or may not be real
but I can’t help that every small
indication of separation
makes me cringe.
I have fallen in love
and fallen accustomed
to hyper sensitivity
and hyper awareness
because the only love
I’ve ever been apart of
was unrequited and
I was inadequate.
And the only love I have
ever been shown
was intoxicated
by madness
and left in the cold
with mental scars
and bruises on young arms.
I don’t want my past
to destroy my future
but if you’ve seen the life
I have been shown
you would think there were
roaches in diamonds
and disease in gold.
Love is not
what makes me paranoid
it’s loyalty,
because how can I learn
to receive
what I’ve never in my dark past
been shown or reciprocated.
I need to learn to trust
in mostly myself and I
because I’m tired of thinking
every beautiful day and genuine person
is all just an a illusion of my mind.

there's something about sadness,
that's just so comforting.
and something about madness,
that's just so safe.
and i'm not sure why
but my mind has been poisoned
by negativity and resentment.

The flood of emotion
that drowns me in my sorrows
is a crutch and a curse
and every instance
is a reason to feel hatred
and sadness and rebellion.

it's hard to stay sane
when everything
and everyone
changes almost instantly
and consistency is foreign.

my lack of faith
comes from my overwhelming
fear of being left alone and cold
so i find safety in solitude
and i find comfort
in feeling nothing at all.

maybe this is why
everything i write sounds the same
and everything i conjure up
all ends up reverting back
to what once was
and why lines reused
is just my way of clinging
to the only amount of
consistency i can control.

i have never been one
to tell how i feel
or speak of my past
that is buried beneath
the wings i haven't yet
used to fly away from here
because i fear,
happiness
just like sadness
and every other emotion
for that matter
is just a crazy,
illusion
that leaves the bruises
in my mind
and the scars
on my wrist

because finding an outlet,
that gives you what you need
is almost as rare as
someone understanding you.

and the blood spilling from your veins
is temporary,
the love leaving your lips
is temporary
which is why
in life you will always
somehow, someway
be secondary.

in a life or death situation,
when the hands of time
are running you over
with a mac truck.

When death is arriving
at your door step
60 miles per hour
while the grim reaper
is in the passengers seat
grinning from ear to ear.

You get hit-
But somehow the graces
of destiny
or god
or good luck
help you survive.
But you need another's
blood to fill your veins
and make you whole again-

Is it then you will deny the blood,
of someone who doesn't
have the same values,
or live the same life.
Is it then you will say,
no that person loves another
of the same gender,
I wont do it.

And you die,
slowly and painfully,
from your own ignorance.

Is it then you say,
that person is of a different race,
I refuse to take that blood.

And you die,
slowly and painfully,
from your own selfish views.

When will people wake up and realize,
blood is blood?
People are people
love is love
and who the **** are you
to tell someone
they're not worth a thing
because you told them so?

You are not god,
you are not a supreme leader,
you cannot dictate
and enforce
your unorthodox hatred
unto others,
because blood is blood.

When the chance comes
that you no longer have life
and you're sitting alone and cold
in a bed with no one around
but your fragile memories
of family and friends
that turn to hatred and self-loathing
and you are all you have.

you will then wish
that you took the blood
you will then wish
you didn't hate so much
you will then wish
on every star in the sky
that you realized sooner
blood is just blood
and people are just people
and some of those people-
like you,
are unjust and just too ******* evil.

I find serenity in the strangest places,
comfort in the strangest faces.
I scream for sanity,
and long for something,
more..

But more is sometimes less
but less is sometimes more.
and why do we want something
and then get it,
but run from it in the same instance?

Do not give me time to think,
I will take my thoughts
and run far away with them
and you will never hear from me again.
Instead whisk me away with spontaneity
don't give me time to think,
don't give me time to analyze my path
or fixate on my past.

The only thing we can hold true
is the time we have at this instant.
Tomorrow could never come
And two weeks ago
you were in a different place
And two years ago
you lived a different life
So make due
with what's left.

Show me,
that I am worth
all you say I am
make me believe again
and again and again
until I know for sure
that fairytales don't exist
but my own twisted,
****** up, distorted reality does
and it all makes sense.
to someone, anyone
and not just me.

I look at those with simpler minds
and simpler life's and think to myself
you have not seen circumstance
until it's hung around your neck
like a noose and your begging for freedom.
you have not felt pain
until you've quivered in dark corners
crying because anywhere
would be better than home.
and some may reply,
you have no clue what another goes through.
and that's the problem,
No validation, just excuses.

I have seen my life strangled from my eyes
by someone who was supposed to offer me protection
and I have been betrayed and abandon
and took advantage of by those much bigger than i
but somehow the only resentment i feel now,
is towards myself for keeping it all inside.

I am not willing to hide myself,
inside blind eyes
and unopened minds.
So I spill my guts through
stanzas and double entendres
because peace doesn't come with closure
and you can't even count on closure to find you.
So I lose myself inside the walls
of never actually saying how I feel
and behind doors that only peak into my subconscious.
My fingers touch these keys and my affirmation lingers
and the only time I feel at peace,
is hitting these keys.
My nirvana does not exist,
long ago, I had lost my happiness
and found it burrowed deep inside my misunderstood..
this is my sanity, this is my understanding.

the burdensome anxiety that is my life,
presses upon my stomach
like the birth given female trait
none of us wish to be "blessed" with.
it tightens my intestines
and makes me sick
as if the ***** i wish i had
had been severely kicked.

I have grown accustomed to
calming myself down
and panicing
all in the same minute
and i have watched my world
crumble in front of me
and rebuild
all in the same minute.
and i start to grow tired of the routine.

the inconsistency that has been
****** upon me unwillingly
makes me feel vulnerable
like i did
when I was small and fragile
wondering why
he had touched me
in places i was told were sacred.  

nothing is ever planned
and every moment is random
but why do i feel like
someone's sole intention
is to see me without sanity.
every moment could be sickness
every day could be happiness
every instance could be a trigger.

So what is the beauty of living
if not to prepare yourself for the inevitable,
what is the meaning of life
if not ineffable?
I have found sanity,
in dark paths of my past.
I have found insanity
in calm nights alone.
and somehow
even in times i was close to death,
clenching a bottle to my chest
i realized that hell probably feels a lot like home.

most people try to convince,
an entire universe
filled with people they've never met,
and minds they've never come across
that they're someone worth looking at.

when i've been scattering my brain
and cowering in fear of my own judgment
attempting to convince myself,
i'm someone worth saving..

all things come to end,
and it's hard to convince
myself why that shouldn't mean me,
but it can and it will.
one day, someday.

i'm hoping my mind will have enough guts
to convince my heartache that this is just a phase
and that every day may seem hard
but every day can get better.
and i try to talk myself out
of what seems to weigh me down
in the first place
but all these misplaced repressive thoughts
and pent up aggression
has me wondering if it's too late,
to save me.

i've worked hard to keep everything inside
and now it wants out
and i'm not sure how to confine
my mind into a barrier
it doesn't want to be restricted to.

I am my own affliction,
my own restrictions,
i am my own painful crazy addiction,
I want to save myself,
but ******, I won't listen.

I fell into you,
fast and without warning.
It just kind of happened,
you and me.
I think, that’s how I know.
I didn’t have time to over think,
or second guess myself.
We fell into each other
and your warm embrace
comforted me, like I’d never felt before.

I smiled at the sight of how your eyes lit up,
in a way that could intensify a city skyline
whenever you looked into mine.
I forgot what it felt like to laugh
and smile, and love.
But you reminded me so easily.

Without hesitation,
I fell for you.
I let fate take it’s course
and I haven’t looked back since.
You’re the one I want to always be with.

The idea of forever seems, irrational.
But with you, it all makes sense.

I have learned,
people leave you
cold and broken
like my youth
and the only thing
that will ever stay
in my life
is that pen
and that pad of paper.

because my sanity
means more to me
than pleasing others
and my sanity
can only stay
if that pen and pad
are next to me

so take away my
so-called friends
lost inside
never empty pill bottles
and always empty
bottles of sorrow
and remind me why
this is what i cling to.

this is my far few in between
this is my light
at the end
of a never lit tunnel.
This is where misery
and it's company
join hands and dance
in the moonlit
darkness of the past.

The only thing
I've ever held close to me,
was anger and resentment
for those who i'm supposed to love
I find fatal flaw
where there isn't any
I look for wrong
in those who try to do me right
which is why I write.
because the only form
of therapy available to me
costs sixty bucks an hour
and that hour
holds more secrets
than my mind
will allow me to speak.
So I bleed ink
and hope that some sense
of relief
flows through my fingertips
like the weight upon my shoulders

and the only thing
worth fighting for
in my eyes
are the things
that are fighting with me.
Which is why people
come and go.
But blank pages
are always meant to be filled.

at a young age,
most girls took the time
to plan their future wedding
with cakes and flowers
and music that kissed the crowd
and lights that danced the night away.

but me,
I was too busy
wondering why
anyone would want that
in the first place
because where i come from
the only thing that dances
are the shadows
in the corners
i found myself hiding in,
and the only thing that gets kissed
is my father's ***
whenever he was two beers deep
and feeling pretty entitled.

the only future i ever saw for myself
that involved another man
was getting away
from the ones in my life

because where i come from
the bruises and the *****
are far few in between
and love was only shown
by a dollar sign
nagging at my hand
crying take me
this means love
when it only really meant war.

the only thing i ever felt
remotely good at,
was hiding away
in the dark depths
of solitude.
and i made a promise to myself
a long time ago,
i would never lose myself
to gain love the way i saw it
and i would never feel love
the way it was shown to me
and i would never let someone
not hear what i have to say.

i told myself,
that if i ever fell in love
it would never be someone
like me, or my father
or any of the men in my life.
so i fell in love
and fell in love hard
but then just as i felt myself falling,
i slipped on the ground
i was stuck on to
and i reverted to something much simpler,
solitude.

and all those promises i made to myself
got flushed away,
by lack of affirmation
and my fear of abandonment
because i'm not sure what's worse
not being able to formulate how you feel,
or being too scared to feel at all..

I have been taught only
what i was willing to teach myself
and I was too busy
trapped in  dark corners
and tip toeing around circumstance
to teach myself how to feel properly
and my environment was so dark,
i never gave myself a chance to see the light
I have done many things wrong in my life,
and you are not one.
but why do I feel so lost inside myself
like the hands of time
are grasped around my neck
as i choke on every word i wish to say to you
I have become terrified of truth
and obsessed with affirmation
that soon i will lose
the only thing i hold sacred
and thats you.

.... but I don't want to.

I have been accustomed
to dark hallways
and never quiet homes.
I've spent life hiding
behind masks of people
I hardly even know.
I looked up to the ones
who looked down on me
and not because
I was young and naive and short
but because I had no self worth.

I put my all into people
who gave me back nothing
and lost myself in the process.
The self discovery I should've experienced
was hid away in the dark hallways
and drown out by the sleepless nights.

I've taught myself most things,
like how to tie shoes, and do makeup
but what I cling too dear to myself
is how I learned without being taught
that more often than not
never being shown a way
can make way for an even brighter tomorrow.

I'm not good at a lot
like talking about my feelings
or making room for myself to grow
but I am good at being me
whoever that may be
and even though
I may be lost
inside still dark hallways
and always quiet homes
I have found love
where there was never any at all
I have found hope
when I had never known the meaning
I have found light
inside the dark covers
I'd been hiding under.

rewind.
then press play.

it seems as if,
the only care left in the world
is the one misplaced
in hearts and heads,
and misused by hands
that are too busy
holding onto what
held them back
in the first place.

the times i've spent dreaming
are lesser than the nightmares i've lived
the times i've done right
is an abundance compared to the wrong
but somehow the only sense of acknowledgment
I get, comes from the negativity
which leads to the destruction
that is caused by me.

my hands and my head
seem to break more things
than I can manage to keep
and I keep on dreaming
half awake, half sleeping
of the ways I can fix me.

The problem is
my mind is too big
and actions too profound
for only one pair of hands to hold
so i must hold my own
and hope someone else
will help me carry the load.

I let my eyes screams the words,
my lack of guts never give
the wounded heart I carry
permission to.
Then I looked to you.

I carry on my shoulders,
the burdens of an entire lifetime
and a broken family.
all the while,
tip-toeing around circumstance
and on top of eggshells.
Somehow I grew.  

I have been held down
by unfortunate upbringing
and misconstrued judgments.
Brought up by books
and words painted across
a troubled canvas
making sense to only me.
Then I found you.

All that once made life
unbearable and unworthy,
transformed into
something worth saving.
Fearful became fearless,
and I knew of the one thing
I was sure didn’t exist.

I couldn’t see light.
Then I looked to you.
I knew not who I was,
Somehow I grew.
I didn’t know love,
Then I found you.

My body aches for acknowledgement
and a mere sense of safety
and closeness.
I am like a small child
yearning for some kind of attention
some small sense of affirmation.

My mind wanders from time to time
into the dark abyss that is my past.
Parental issues
and every other issue for that matter,
but all that mattered when I was young
was being old
and when I didn't feel love
like I should've
someone showed me an alternative.
The lust I felt at a young age,
wasn't ideal.
Nothing was ideal for me
it was more so just, life.

Life took my sanity
and I fell victim
to a lack there of.
Falling accustomed
to being under the covers.
falling accustomed
to being under another
falling accustomed
to not wanting to be a child
but wanting to grow up
so I could say
stop it, go away.

But I grew up quickly
and I learned just the same
that no one
not even you
can degrade my name.
The *****
the brunette
and the monster in my bed
are all what seem to run through my head
are all the reasons I wish I were dead.

sometimes,
our biggest fear
and most tragic regret
is ourselves.

sometimes,
love can turn you into gold
lining the walls of an ancient castle.
and sometimes,
love can turn you cold
cooling the tender heart
that was once inflamed with passion.

I sit idly as the days pass me by
and next to you
I feel so alive.
But some days,
without you
I feel so exposed on the inside.

The thing about love is,
it can be the brightest of days,
and the darkest of nights.
It can show you,
the side of yourself
you would've stored away
if you'd known it was there.

Who am I,
or you, to judge love?
It is it's own force,
it's own entity
it can either leave you whole
or leave you empty
and I'm not sure
which one
love has left me.