She’s been swimming more
But she didn’t learn this way
Learned by drowning

I’m sorry mom,
I’m really sorry.

I’m sorry for locking myself in my room.
I’m sorry for hiding.

I’m sorry for being a hassle.
I’m sorry for my pain.

I’m sorry for the money spent on me.
I’m sorry for wasting your time.

I’m sorry that I’m needy.
I’m sorry I get out-of-line.

I’m sorry I disappoint you.
I’m sorry I try too hard.

I’m sorry Mom,
I truly am.

© Regan

I don’t really like myself,
It’s true I don’t.
I don’t stand out.
I’m not any sort-of special.
I’m normal.
I don’t have a quality
that makes me stand out.
I change my hair color,
I wear makeup,
And I change who I am.
I try on clothes that make me cry,
because my body isn’t perfect.
I pick out new foundations,
To cover my flaws better.
I give into others,
To make them happy.
I have lost myself, and have found myself.
Still, through all I’ve gone through,
I still don’t like myself.
I feel undeserving of anything,
Useless, worthless, and terrible.

I’m sorry self, you shouldn’t be treated this way.

© Regan

I wrote a poem about you,
Except it’s not for you.

I wrote a poem about you,
But you may not have it.

I wrote a poem about you,
But It’s not sweet.

I wrote a poem about you,
But not for your physical existence.

I wrote a poem about you,
For the pain you caused me.

I wrote a poem about you,
But it’s not a good thing.

© Regan

Holding together my thoughts
Keeping them where they should be.

As my messy, disorganized mind causes chaos,
My small twisted friends,
Keep my mind going,
While pushing my thoughts further.

They’re small and lost easily,
But once they’re gone,
The train of thought is off it’s tracks.

The wild thinking of
Stress and worry,
Come back to where
They had left before.

Thank you my steel wire helpers,
I would be a mess without you.
Thank you for organizing my thoughts,
Thank you my paper clips.

© Regan

You aren’t special
You won’t ever be someone’s “one”
You’re just as ordinary as everyone else,
Who’s foolish enough to think love is good.
It’s just like falling down the stairs,
Having someone brush you off and help you stand, and then pushing you down another.
You’re a silly girl to think love is good.

You aren’t going to rise above others.
You’re gonna keep standing on your own feet.
Until someone pushes you down
Dreams aren’t a reality anymore, you can’t follow them, take a more “realistic” path.
Grow up you silly girl.

Your mommy and daddy aren’t happy,
Working a 40 hour shift just to come home and deal with your problems.
They don’t see each other much anymore,
Reality hit them faster than imagined.
Don’t think true happiness is real silly girl.

You’ll be happy to hear this from me now
Than to realize it yourself in 20 years,
You silly girl.

© Regan

Cold beer
Bonfires
American flags soaring above
Motorcycle gangs racing on a dark highway
Laughing, drinking, but most importantly, living
letting a summer’s breeze fill their lungs
Cigarette and old alcohol reside in the air
Careless 50’s vibe in a modern era
Bandanas hold back unbrushed curls
Living in a blue-jean America

© Regan

Drugs! Heartbreak! Pain!
Stay away from our families
Parents who cover and sugarcoat our lives
Not letting us know about true suffer
Such as homeless, disease, death, love.
Our exposure to terrible things is limited
To make our childhood a little more bearable
Keeping us Little Ones away from the “monsters”
And the
“Bad guys”
But aren’t telling us that they’re just like you and me.
Our exposure is limited to what the world
Truly is.

© Regan

I wasn’t done.
I couldn’t fix you.
I wasn’t helping you.
I want you still.
I hate that I let myself keep holding onto you.
I wasn’t obsessed with you
But it hurt.
It hurt as bad as a sharp knife
Into clean skin.
I know better,
Than to be hung up over someone,
Someone who hurt me the way they did.
I was foolish to believe something could last,
And it didn’t.
Not even close.
You are my true heartbreak.

© Regan

Early morning
when I first adjust my eyes
10:00 am on a weekend
feeling fresh and rejuvenated
The crisp morning air,
filtrates through my rough lungs.

Feeling alive as ever
but still tempted to go back to sleep.
My blue curtains
making my whole room feel bright,
as the sun seeps through them.
These Mornings
just make me feel good.

© Regan

Here I am
Looking at the edge
About to loose
The only thing
I have left
But the thought
of you
Makes me stop.

This edge will only
Stop the pain
Temporarily
Loving you
Is most definitely
Infinite

© Regan

Covering all that you are.
It makes each and every person
We destroy our bodies
Tattoos, piercings, needles.
Why do we destroy the thing
That’s been there since day one?

What do we do?
We destroy it more.
Until we rot in our graves.
Covered in destruction
Of what we’ve always known.

From picking at your fingertips
To slitting our wrists.
Destroying ourselves
For pain and pleasure
But we all end up six feet under anyways,
What is the big deal?

Express yourself.
Get that nose piercing,
Get that tattoo.
Do what you want,
As long as you don’t regret it.
Your flesh, your story.

As I am from Kentucky,
Does it even matter to me?
Only my future children
Will care where I’m from.

Soon forgotten of me.
Just as ancestors before..
I will just be a speck in what’s to come
Unimportance.

I’m meaningless
What difference do I make?
In a world we’re babies are born constantly
And immortality undiscovered

Legends before me, will soon be forgotten
Is life even worth it?
Does my existence matter?
What is the point of this...?

To those who really know me
Will only be the ones to miss me
When it is my time
To leave.

© Regan

Girl falling for the guy
Same romantic love story
Your grandmother talks about
The love you feel holds passion
But it feels the same
Typical

Until you show me what it feels like
To truly be in love
Glances over the shoulder
Words that take my breath away
love that I’m addicted to
Love like none before
Believe it or not
It’s not that typical.

© Regan

Hot.
The fire you cast upon my soul
Slowly burning what I am
Slowly removing memories,
Love,
Passion.
The thoughts I held back
The memories I tried to forget
Burning their way back into my memory
A heart lined with a barrier that used to stand tall
But turned into ramshackles
The irrational decisions
Based on following emotions over knowledge.

© Regan

I have an infatuation with you
Except you don’t.
I love your eyes
But you can’t see me.
I love the smile,
She doesn’t bring to you.
I like the way you talk to me,
Long pauses to look at each other.
Flirting occasionally
But still making sure you want me.
Keeping you happy,
But destroying some of my own.
But I’m still addicted to you
Everything you are
Everything I’m not.

© Regan

The touch of your skin
Holding me close
Pulling me in
The color of love
The color of disaster
The color of pain
The color of life
But in reality the color is blank
For those to fill in
A different meaning to each and every person
Who learns their color on their own
You brought the color of green
A mix of yellow and blue
Yellow is the happiness
And blue is the emotions
Of sadness and despair
In a blank canvas world
You bring me saturation.

© Regan

Take one slow breath.
Breathe through your nose.
You are overreacting, it's just change.
"You don't understand!"
I am leaving everything and everyone I've ever known.
The streets I've walked.
The bruises I've gotten from your hands.
The broken-heart you've given me.
I can't just breathe.
Not even a breath.
You see, you've lived everywhere, almost as if you've never had a home.
This has been my only home,
the only place I can tell you the streets like the back of my hand.
You can't forget your hometown, unless you've never had one.
The people.
The small bakery on the corner.
The library across the street.
Those are some of the things I will never forget. Don't tell me to take a breath,
when you have never been through this.
You hypocrite.

© Regan

Bright.
Noticeable.
Lights.
Laying in the hospital bed being pushed around by screaming doctors. The IV rushing fluids into my bloodstream. The fuzziness of the lights as I slightly open my eyes.
Fast.
Running.
Doctors.
Am I dying? I definitely am dying. No I can't, I'm too young to die! I can't die.
But I can.
I'm old enough to die.
I can't choose when I die.
The operating room is cold, and smells like it's too clean. The anesthesia slowly drowns me in a sleep like stage.
Am I dying?
I am living through the thought of dying.
The ventilator is keeping me from dying.
The anesthesia has caused me to die.
I'm not waking up.
I'm not alive.
I am dead.

© Regan

The look of your eyes when you look at the stars reflects so much hope. When you grab my hand and pull me closer it feels perfect, as if the stars were aligned in that moment. When you hold my hand and guide me to god-knows where, I feel needed.
The touch.
The smell.
The adrenaline rushing through our heads.
And the moment is gone. I've woken up, from a fantasy that only occurs in my head.
Gasp of morning air flows through my lungs as reality hits again.
And I know it is only a fantasy my mind wanders to every so often.

© Regan