when we went to the county fair
you felt ill after a ride
and as we walked from the blinking lights
and screaming kids
you told me, next to our buddies,
how much you liked listening to me on that ride
the noises i made at every unexpected toss and turn
not really screams, but...
"i just like your company."
-the simplest things you say and do
-make me the wildest for you

Cracking every finger
Every bone
Pinching every free inch of skin
I never sit still
I would be hungry if I wasn't so ******* thirsty for your touch

my flowers never bloom
maybe they never will
but you're the one who told me to chill
when your hands were freezing and up my skirt.
you whispered in my ear and I froze
just like you planned
just as you hoped for
and then you had your way with my blue lips
and now my tights are ripped the way i like them
(but ripped in all the wrong places)

I've been told that the stars will be falling tonight
but nobody taught me how to catch one.

i wish i'd get punched in the face
because
1. I deserve it
and 2. it'd be nice to feel so bruised but have it physically show.
the gross yellows and deep purples would be visible and undeniable
and there is a lot more wrong in me than the wrong i pinned on you today.
your love is valid
and this is so much fun
and i am a really really big *******
and a fool for even thinking i deserve your love or attention,
i feel like such an idiot
and i can't stop thinking

i know i deserve to be loved
i know that i am loved
((why do i ask for reassurance))
(am i really that selfish)

My teeth aren't falling out tonight
but the stitches in my thighs are
and I'm not sure how long I can hold myself up
without a reason to.

maybe sometimes i wish you'd stab me in the arms and legs,
stab me so it hurts,
stab me in the eyes so i can no longer see the ******* color of yours
(they make me crazy, anyway)

this is called, insecurity
this is called, you're ******* perfect and i wish you'd see it
this is called, i like you
i really like you

I'm not afraid of the future
I'm terrified.

i daydream of last summer
or this weekend
sitting in your arms
or resting my head on your legs when i can't make myself sit straight
(you stopped the truck to park before you took me home)
tell me straight up

i know you're not talking about me
i know you're not talking about me

I'm such a ******* idiOT
I want to be nothing
I want to be bone
I'm ******* tired, but
the clock is ticking so fast

but never ever think that I can't take care of myself
because I don't need any ******* help
from anyone
ever.
And trust me,
you may have known me then
but every part of me has changed

Mom, i think i'm starting to like this boy
I'm afraid and ugh, ****, mom what the hell??
I didn't realize that life would be this cycle of careful steps people take, walking on shards of ******* glass
because if you're not too careful
you are going to get hurt.
I used to be so bold without question
I was fearless about feeling
today, I have never been so scared
me, to my mom, whispering:
(but i'll be bold anyway, okay? i still prefer all the fuss of butterflies with someone)

i am planned out,
and our time is strategically placed in increments,
you'll point out the ******* hours.
carefully calculated so you can tell me we hung out enough
(you counted)

You tell me what you think
I'll stare back, maybe nod my head
I am older and still not wiser,
I crave less and less but want more
Most things seem unattainable - is this where it starts?
Is this growing up and losing hope? Has reality finally set in and I've realized that in order for a dream to come true, you have to first fully realize what that dream actually is, and it has to be so specific that you can taste it before it's even accomplished?
At 25, I'm unsure I ever really knew how to dream, then
All of my desires are so vague, maybe I've convinced myself they're more likely to happen that way

fingernails are pretty evident on black t-shirts,
clippings from my teeth that prove they might be right when they say I always look nervous
I forgot people might see how anxious I feel.
I thought I looked intimidating

this weekend already feels so long because i won't see you friday or saturday
(i don't know why time changes when you're not around)
but I just wanted to let you know that i wrote some things for you in my journal that i think you should read sunday, if i see you then.
they're good things, of course, a little random and sloppy,
a little self-critiquing (sometimes i think i am too serious)
and it's 4:28am and I might be a little delirious
but i am really excited to be 18 and in love with you.
I'm going to let myself believe you, even when I am insecure
and I'm going to be less afraid to tell you how handsome you look all the time.
So if I see you Sunday...i'll probably be a little hesitant to open up the journal you gave me, but don't let me be embarrassed. I'm not sure how much you really care about reading what's in there (i don't blame you if you don't), but I trust you
4:34am
this weekend already feels sooo long because i won't see you

sometimes i write about the same thing
over and over and over and ov-
I don't know why
and sometimes I yell it all in my mind and it doesn't stop until i cry
and sometimes I go to the studio and forget about everything
except pointing my feet
but I know there's no future in that because my feet don't point far enough
and I can't yell loud enough for it to stop
and throwing my body around a stage only makes me forget for the length of the song
and what if one day i can't stand to remember
or what if one day all i want to do is remember
i could get too far lost in it all
or get lost in it while trying to grasp onto the edge

trying to pick apart the bones in my hand
snap off each finger tip
hang them on strings from the ceiling
i hope you keep yourself warm next winter and i hope you'll wonder if i sleep with enough blankets
i don't mind sharing blankets with you

Whether you want to continue to grow together
or you'd rather grow apart,
just let me know
when you know
but don't give me false hope
and we can just enjoy the summer before the winter hits
if that's all you want

comfort in his limbs, or simply in his presence.
i just crave slowly inching my fingers up his arm
wiping his shoulder with my thumb
resting my heavy head on the pillow and my forehead against his bicep
why can't i take care of myself when i am alone
why am i treating my life as if it is on pause

and you told me it was killing you,
it had been killing you
to stand next to me all day
and not even get to touch my lips
so you sat in my passenger seat after we dropped everyone else off at their doors and asked me not to take you home yet.
"Please," you said
and how could I ever resist

i hear a ghost train
and i am paranoid of the past, sometimes
that it will haunt you and i and everyone

but right now i'm not thinking too far back
only far enough to think of a picnic table
where we sat and watched the sun shine through the trees
but after a while, i ended up instead admiring your eyes
(and your lips)
(and your smile)

I'm sorry you're so clinically sad
and I'm sorry I don't know what you're thinking
I'm sorry I keep apologizing for things that aren't my fault
but I wish I could help you (in some way, any way)
I wish you would let me

just wondering if maybe i could be the small gust of wind that blows through your hair one day when you're happy

tired of thinking these self-destructive words can be beautiful
poems are too often about how you'd put almost anyone ahead of yourself
how they can heat you up quicker than the oven your mom used to cook dinner in
how their eyes alone could give you a rush that makes you wild
(they do this to us, and we assume we can't live up,
but your eyes make someone wild, too
sometimes write about you)

I'm going to mess up
I'm going to mess up
I'm going to mess up
I want to stay on this stage forever.

sometimes i think i'm telling a joke
and then i think about it for too long
and realize again how quickly time can pass
and how easily people change and forget each other
and how (speaking of easy) it is way too easy to remember that life is pointless
so sometimes maybe when i'm trying to tell a joke
I am actually trying to distract myself
and find a point in flashing teeth
(mainly my own)

i appreciate having your hand to hold when
there are needles in my neck,
when time moves in ways i can't comprehend,
when the floor is slanted and my eyes are half-closed,
when my mind is at all even a little out of control...

you've led me to believe that i can count on you
to mean what you say-
every "i love you" I've learned not to doubt.
so i'm sorry that last night and today
the little things you said but didn't mean
made me worry about the big things you say but tell me to believe

i know my writing is going down the drain
(i write too much, i write too often)
but **** I HAVE TO WRITE DOWN HOW MUCH I LIKE
running my fingers down your bare back in the seat of my car
resting my head on your chest and feeling your breath
I have to write down how moments with you feel wonderful
and...better.
it's all basic, it's all general
i'm not relating your eyes to the moon
because when the moon is right above us and we could look up and see it
I'd still rather look into your eyes sometimes.

I don't always have flow, no rhythm, no new metaphors
but every night you smile is ******* magical
(no new words)
and i just feel like i need to type it out

so yeah my writing is ****, it always will be,
but tonight I am glad
that my order of words may not be pretty,
but I get to write about something beautiful
(your lips wanting to be on mine)

but the way my face feels when you look at it
is very
very different
than the way it feels when I look at it.

i know i don't know the right things to say
i'm sorry for trying
you're the one who always somehow spits the right thing out at the right time
i'm the one stuttering and babbling in the corner with my hands on my head
clock ticking on my tongue
counting down time bombs
for when the wrong words will erupt out of me
(an explosion, even though it's a whisper)

no , i get it
i could pick up smoking
it's stupid, but it sure is romanticized
and with the nights i've been having lately,
what's a little more tar in my lungs going to hurt?

I NEVER WANTED TO BE A GIRL WHO COULD ONLY WRITE LOVE POEMS
i only write of loving you or hating me, it seems

most of my feelings are pointless insecurities that i'd be better off shaking out
BUT REMINDER:
AT LEAST I AM FEELING

it's so nice to move and glide and jump
and forget about everything but my own ******* body

-I hope you know how often I want you around.

-Let me stay a little longer.

-I'm so happy you came, you're here, I'm so happy when you are.

-I like you so much I often think it must be love (but I don't care what the feeling is called).

who wants to come over and suffocate me in my sleep tonight
i am tired of being a person
sometimes all i want is to drown and sometimes it is my biggest fear

been thinking more about cigarettes
cigars, really (false sense of health)
gotta have something to do with my hands
but its an interesting thought, pointless.
sticky-scented, rearranged, row of wicks
bags pulling my top lids
reaching out my hands to the chipped paint on the ceiling
fingers ache
bellies too
5am ready for bed but aching aching aching

wish I'd paint my entire face pink so you'd never see me blush
(or always see me blush)
wish I could tell you what I really want

I'm not sure I ever loved him
I loved who I thought he was
I loved the idea of love
I loved the comfort
but it couldn't have been love
because his eyes never made me feel the way
yours do

(love is terrifying, not comfortable. love is tender and soft but horrifying)
(love is knowing this will hurt but convincing yourself it is worth it)

love is when you whisper in my ear something like, "I'm just trying to explain how much I like you. I like you sooo much. I could live with you. I just want to kiss you and talk with you and just lay with you if you don't feel like talking, I want to adventure with you. I just....I don't know."

Maybe love isn't real, and who cares
your "I don't know" is enough for me

I don't know either

too afraid to say the words i've planned out in my head
and rolled over my tongue
but too afraid to open my ******* mouth

your "i'm really happy"
makes me
******* ecstatic

I still don't know what's most important to me
still don't know where I want to go or end up
I still don't know how I'll have fun
and I occasionally worry about it
but I'm hoping maybe one day I'll know exactly what I want
(the whole thought process is so cliche)

for now I'll just get dressed and take pictures and kiss

stop pretending
you can't fake a black veil that weighs down shoulders
and grips the heart
I'm sorry I don't know who I am anymore
but that shouldn't change who you are

i'd like to delete everything i've ever written
exchange it for something more poetic,
like a code he'll never figure out, but keeps trying to
like a picture of a lighter being held close to my wrist
but we all know i can't bring myself to let flame touch skin
like a wish
that i'd never learned to write or think or feel
in the first place

sometimes i explain things to people i shouldn't talk to,
-like how sometimes my mind lags
and my vision and breathing go with it
and it is difficult to think of reality-
and then i remember who i'm talking to
(remember it's not you)
and the look on their faces makes me laugh.
their stare makes me think maybe i am crazy,
i like talking to you because you are real
and you don't make me feel crazy,
even when i might sound crazy

I'm not really into tradition
Except the tradition people like us have of
breaking tradition.
My eyes aren't quite adjusted yet
but god it's easy to focus in on you

It's so bright out
and I walk down the street dressed in black on black on black

Sink into the middle of the mattress
Slight buzz of the air conditioning still on
I miss everything so much
Every experience I've had, every person I've known
Maybe I'm too soft for this world, for the human condition
One day I might afford therapy instead of ******* hellopoetry
But thank you all for watching me grow up.
..if you're still alive over there, on the other side of this one sided 4am recurring chaotic conversation I've been having for years

i guess it feels like i'm staring at a blank wall
and someone with a lab coat and clipboard is standing behind me,
saying, "you have to cover it completely"
and i just sit on the floor and look at it,
my hands empty
my thoughts racing
"cover it with what?" I ask
"I have nothing.
I have no materials to use"
But she just shrugs and writes something down
and I start to sweat and panic
because what is she writing
and what am i supposed to do
How can I cover a ******* blank wall
when my HANDS ARE ******* EMPTY?