There's a hole in you
There's a hole I can see right through
There's a hole in everyone else too
They fill it with drugs
They fill it with pugs
They fill it with mugs
But nothing fits
They fall out every time you try to sit
Not even the hole filling kits
But if you run
If you turn right towards the sun
The hole makes a noise that's fun
So won't you run with me
You'll see
You can have holes and still be free

i do not love you
i do not analyze every touch
i do not stare at your lips in movement,
i especially do not dream about the
day when you will love me back
i do not love you
i like him
he winks at me every time i walk through the
door and he plays basketball and you never liked
sports and i don't either but it's okay because
i do not love you
i like him
he bites his lip when he studies and his dark eyes are
the exact opposite of yours and maybe that's why i love them
because he is the exact opposite of you
i do not love him
i love you
but i cannot say that because you are a thousand miles away
from me and he is right here and i know that this
is wrong and i should stop and that i'm leading him on
and i need to get over you first but i can't bring myself
to do so

i love you
i wish i didn't

(h.l.)

How do you
fall in love
with a few words
on a telephone
or a few lines
on a computer.

You don't.

But I have.

~mce

My stomach began to hurt about two days ago. That was the morning I woke up to an empty bed and throbbing head and no messages from you, no "hey darling I got here in one piece," no "goodnight dear." But then again I never date guys who talk like that. My stomach hurt all day and I wanted to talk to you so bad I gave into temptation and you said everything was good and you had "forgotten" to text me and I brushed it off later and didn't ask for the story when your friends kept teasing you about "the married woman you hit on."
My stomach still hurts and it's been two days now and today I told you it hurt and you said "I'm sorry" when all I needed to hear was "I love you, I'm here" and I cried harder than the sky did all the way home and tried to take a nap but now I sit here trying to scrawl down thoughts in the messy way I do when my mind screams with the need to spit them out. I can't understand how it always ends up like this, always hurts like this, LOVE ISNT SUPPOSED TO FEEL LIKE THIS. You've taken my mind in your hands and molded it and my body bends easily to your will and my words will never tell you how much you hurt me because I can't lose you and my head needs to get it out and everyone tells me that my poetry is best when it feels the most real well it feels PRETTY ******* REAL RIGHT NOW and the sickest part is that its when I am most ****** up that I can create the most beautiful things.
You're an artist. Finger-paint my messy mind because no brush strokes could do it justice. See the way that side is always a little smudged, darling? See the way my hands always shake a little, spiderweb lines that map out my grotesque sickness? See my broken inability to understand why you couldn't possibly love me, I know you can't love me, I've seen me I've felt me I've heard me.
You were perfect. Take that label and shove it up your *** hahahahaha. Or maybe stick it on my chest to be worn like a badge of detestable irony, I wish I could hate you but every time I try to breathe out the words "I'm leaving" my mouth says "kiss me" instead.
And all my friends and their cookie cutter boyfriends live their days in warm snuggles and cookies and I breathe blood bubbles and think about throwing my toaster in the shower just for ***** and giggles.
You were mine, are mine? Never mine.