I wonder if we walk into a store in the early morning hours the next day,
Holding hands and stealing kisses, waiting for the doors to be unlocked,
If clerks can tell how many times we had *** the night before.
I wonder if my skin glows where your hands and kisses caressed my skin
In the wee hours of morning when it seemed the entire world was fast asleep
Except for us;
Sharing love and secrets that no one else cared to know about each other.
I wonder if they could tell that every time I had almost fallen asleep,
You kissed my bare shoulder where the sheet didn’t cover
And the moonlight shone over my pale flesh,
Awakening me with such a desire to kiss you with the same
Hungry urge that you kissed me with.
Kisses led to more and before I knew it, the number of times we made love
For the night had climbed one number higher
And we both struggled to catch our breath.

Laws that get me in trouble.
Mostly for public intoxication
After wandering aimlessly down
Lost streets.
Love I never receive; or gift anyone with either.
Liquor that takes the pain away
If only temporary.
Love fades,
Feelings change,
And the hangover the next morning
Reminds me of why I hate myself
After downing my first shot of alcohol
The night before.
So I start drinking again for breakfast
And the next morning will play out the same.
Endless truths hide behind lies
And luck has never been something I’m  good at.
Life is a game and I can’t ever seem to win,
I lost. I lose. I’m losing.
Over and over again
People call me a lowlife and say I’m going nowhere.
Liquor cures the lonesome for the night
And men tell me they love me.
I believe them.

I hate the word “love.”

You asked me to save you
And I couldn’t for what little life was left of me
Figure out why you would ever ask such a broken person to perform a task like that.
How was I supposed to save you when I couldn’t even save myself?
I’m sorry that we both had to die
Even when you offered to save me if I saved you.
But you didn’t know that I was too far gone to ever be rescued.

I hope when we lie down together in one another’s arms
After staying up much too late,
You feel my rib cage underneath my skin,
Beneath your fingertips
As you rest your hands and cradle me in your arms.
When you feel the ridges of my bones,
I hope you’re reminded of the small parakeet
That sat inside a big cage where all day long
You heard her chirp and was reminded of my steady heartbeat.
Only did the chirps quiet when you reached your fingers through
The small openings; wanting to touch its feathers and feel
Them through your flesh.
Are you reminded of the way my heart seemed to stop
Whenever you moved your fingers over my scars?
I wonder if the wounds that have healed over
Remind you of a jailhouse that holds back the monsters
That lie within me.
If the white bars that hold the cage
Remind you of a prison cell where an inmate
Speaks quietly to himself late at night,
I hope you’re reminded of the parakeet and how
It fills the night with chirps, like the prisoner’s voice
Echoes through the cells as if he’s the only one who’s
Imprisoned.
And I hope my scars tell you that the monsters
Have been silenced
For the night.

When the rooster calls before the sun has broken the horizon, does it wish you a good morning and kiss you on your forehead, or does it remind you that you’ve survived another night and have seen a new sunrise?

Does your bed push you out into the cold or hold you in its blanket arms and tell you to stay?

Is your wrist in need of cleansing from the dried blood that stains your skin after making love to a thin razor blade in the wee hours of morning, or do you pat yourself on the back because you said “no” instead of letting it **** you?

When you brush your teeth and stare at the reflection in the mirror, does the smeared mascara that’s ran down your cheeks trigger the waterfall of new tears to wash away what reminded you that you lived?

Does your bed call you to its arms, the blankets rub your back and your pillow catch your tears?

Do you surrender again to the razor blade in the comfort of your bed’s love?

I keep this bottle of pills, filled up to the brim. And I leave them on my nightstand.
I keep the small container without stealing any
Even when my head is throbbing so hard, I can hear my pulse deep inside my ears.
But I keep them; so if I ever want to taste them all in one setting,
The option is there.
I don’t plan to take these pills. I just have them; just in case.
Because you can’t plan death, you can’t sit down one night and say, “I, want, to, die.”
It doesn’t work like that, depression isn’t that simple.
It’s not an impulsive act or feeling; it’s a build down.
And I say build down because it sure as hell doesn’t make you feel good about yourself.
It piles in your head, like ***** laundry that’s been there for days and sits around the floor,
Because you can’t get out of bed.
It adds up, like miles on that old car that seems to cost a fortune every week but you can’t afford a new one.
Because if you could, maybe you’d leave your pillow and see the world,
Travel. Away.
Like a cross country road trip, pushing pins into a board, marking all of the spots in the world you want to stop and see.
But if my arm were a highway, and these straight lines my tourist spots, my blade would be my car.
It’s not a Cadillac or an SUV. It’s been used,
Back when I actually gave a **** about what I looked like.
I don’t cut slashes in my wrist anymore
As if I was a four year old erasing the white ink from her canvas, coloring with a silver crayon.
And I may be lying when I say,
I don’t have a razor blade hidden within the drawer.
Because  I keep that thin, shiny piece of metal that pulls so easily against flesh,
Because,
Maybe someday I don’t want to relapse and start over.
I want to succeed.
But that isn’t something I can plan.

If you are an aging book tossed on an empty shelf
Left to dust,
I will be the librarian who remembers you.

Even in my graying days and wrinkles,
I will find you within the musty bindings
Upon the shelves.
I will pluck you off,
Bypassing all of the others
That try and grab me as I walk
The narrow aisles.
I will push them back into their place
For you are the only one I have eyes on.
I will find you and blow the dust
Off your shoulders.
I will run my fingers over you,
Feeling your cover, your back, your spine
Before opening you and sifting through your pages,
Reading your story and discovering your scars
Where the corners have been folded over.

But I will love you long before
I ever open your cover and begin to read.

I've recently been contacted about having my collection of poems published. since you all are such great fans and supporters, I invite you to go 'like' my Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/courtneyksnodgrass
you'll get additional sneak peeks like excerpts and quotes from the novel that I just finished writing as well!
it would really mean a lot if you guys could go like my page and then invite your friends too. (if you feel I deserve it)
all is appreciated, thank you so much.
~Courtney Snodgrass

Like in the dead of night when I put one leg out into the brisk air because combined with your body heat,
The blanket is just too warm.
I feel exposed but hidden all the same.
Or when I push one sleeve up my arm, but keep the other hidden beneath the cloth because the evidence would smack you too hard in the face.
I don’t want you to feel the pain that I’ve kept hidden.
I feel shielded, but barely; behind a veil that is trying to reveal the hurt I’m sheltering because you were just too naïve to believe I’d sank that low.
The ocean pulls the anchor from the ship and gravity helps.
I can’t see the bottom, but I know I’m close.

He was the kind of man who
Rarely said, “I love you” first.
Hearing him say those three
Magic little words before I did
Always caught me off guard,
Like a child digging in the
Cookie jar and getting caught
Red handed by his mother.
I smile like the child does
When he’s finally allowed
A cookie for dessert.
The love we shared
Was like a family
Before it had even began.
I am the child that grins
Every time I’m allowed a cookie
And he is the mother that
Always gives in to my cravings.