I smiled so wide my molars got jealous.
Everyone said I looked stunning.
I said thank you in the voice I reserve for customer service and playing dumb.
That’s the closest I’ve come to a scream
this week.

I wore the dress that says: I’m over it.
(It lies.)
I walked like a question mark
straightened out with rage.

There was a man in the corner
making balloon animals.
He asked what I wanted.
I said surprise me.
He handed me a noose
shaped like a swan.

No one noticed.
Or maybe that’s just what I tell myself
to feel interesting.

Later, someone told a joke
I didn’t get.
I laughed like I was being watched.

The punchline wasn’t funny.
It just echoed
like something I would’ve said
before I got careful.

I stood in the kitchen
with a paper plate of olives and nothing,
holding it like proof
I was doing fine.

Someone spilled wine on the couch.
I said I’ve ruined better things.
Everyone laughed
like I meant it to be charming.
(I didn’t.)

A girl in white heels asked me
how I knew the host.
I said same way I know most people—
by accident,
and with the kind of premonition that wears perfume.

The bathroom mirror was cracked.
I counted the breaks like confessions
and chose not to atone.
The soap smelled like fruit
that only exists in dreams
you wake up crying from.

I reapplied my lip stain
like armor,
like alibi,
like an exit strategy.

Then I left without saying goodbye
because I couldn’t figure out
how to do it quietly
and still be missed.

old friend
my blade
once again
like before

theres this ache in my heart
it never goes away
not fully
only dulls

i tried to cut it out

that didnt work

i tried to burn it out

that didnt work

i tried drown it in pills and alcohol

that didnt work

so

at last

i tried to **** it

took out my blade
went to work with it
as i had many times

took out my bottle
and felt the familiar warmth spread throughout my body

and finally
took out the pill bottle

took them all within two swallows

and i decided that wasnt enough

so i took the bottle of cough syrup

chugged that

and went to bed

write letters adressing the closest people in your life
feel bad that you cant write them all letters
try to reassure them that it wasnt anyones fault
that it was bound to happen sooner or later
say sorry over and over again
tell them not to throw you a funeral
to donate your body
clean your room
and everything else you can
make sure there isnt any loose ends
give away your stuff
theyll need it more than you
hang out with them one last time
then
lock your door
lock everything and everyone out
you cry but you know you must do this
take the pills
every last one
no matter how much you gag, they all must go
turn off your light
turn off your phone
and go to bed
one
last
time

Should we just have never embarked on this Exodus?

Maybe then I wouldn't have to be present in a future enraptured by your absence.

I look for you in the unfamiliar, pleading for a chance to atone for the times I didn't love you the way your spirit asked me to; begged me to.

I think life is sort of funny like that.

It gives us grief and torment, undertoned by conditions of stability and commitment, still masked by peace and contentment.

Life won't tell you "This suffering shall be yours after you've given shadow and sin,
bones and dreams,
beginnings and unendings"

It will let you know however, that forever is a fickle concept.
An anomaly of truth. An unworthy penance.

Forever is today telling you tomorrow won't be guaranteed, yet you defer and let momentous pleasure consume you.

Forever is you right now, unravelled, unmade, wondering when it will finally be you.

Life won't tell you "This suffering shall be yours when you're left with answers to questions you were scared to ask".

You assume shame should be a stark reminder, that maybe grace and longevity weren't meant to have been breathed into your "always".

Or maybe loving him was the only way to afford a glimpse of misfortune; what could never be if the two of you had become.

But that's not you, is it?

For you shame is nothing compared to the cold indents in your waist where his hands once took residence.
Or the ache between your legs where  futures were built in the stillness of nights and raucous of mornings.

Shame is nothing compared to his words of adoration to another; unshakable dedication to another.

Shame is nothing compared to this emptiness

To these words.

To the forever that never was

i see how much pain i put you through
dont think i dont
i just dont know how
to not hurt
and hurt those
around me

i try to make myself smaller
hoping that
itll change something

and i want to tell you
to get clean
but how can i?
when i cant even do the same myself

and i love you so much
and i hate myself
for causing you distress

sometimes i think of letting you go
but i dont want you to do something rash

even though itd be better for you
to not have me

im selfish

and greedy

and i want you
in the most innocent way possible
i want you to hold me
to put me back together
to tell me that im beautiful
and i dont need to hide
that i dont take up too much space

that well both work on it
together

please.

My whole life, I’ve felt like I’m living a life that isn’t mine,
Following a script I didn’t write, wasting away with time.

I never imagined a future, I just live day to day.
Am I a puppet, playing a part, until I decay?

I don’t remember who I was before melancholy caught me;
It seems to be all I know, all I feel, all I think, all I see.

Maybe this is my purpose, to endure these thoughts with persistence.
I exist so you don’t feel alone…
How unfortunate my existence.

the attraction of the lady of pain
a promise made in vain
oh her deep beauty in the morbid light
her fiery eyes pierce me completely in the dead of night

a dress made purely of tears
a hold on those who are content is their fears
her lips plucked from the charcoals within a heavenly burn
the bitter comfort of her hug in which I yearn

she holds a flower which wilts with intent
that which she deeply laments

…Barely      Breath.                    Lungs
             A                 Left     These.       God
                                         In                         Pl-
                                                             ­          Ea-
                                                             ­             Se  help me, I am too young to go_____

it stings
but thats the price i pay
for doing bad things

again

will it ever stop?

will i ever stop?

itll stop when the world stops spinning
they say it gets better
to wait it out
itll stop when i stop breathing