The internet could have freed us.

Now we know for sure it doesn't need us.
Endless babbling repeated tropes.
Posted by morons and losers and brain dead teen aged dopes.
Vacuous and vague , nothing said nothing heard.
Not a thought nothing original
not a word.

Now the morning doesn’t shine as it used to,
I wake up every morning
Hoping there would be a text from you,
But all I get is the unread messages I sent you.
Somewhere we grew apart.

I kept my love the same for you,
But you stopped loving as you used to.
Every day I would wait hoping to hear from you,
And every day, all day I just keep waiting.
Somewhere we grew apart.

Before you would talk with me for hours,
And the hours felt like mere seconds
And now we don’t even talk for a second
Daily conversation has now become a memory.
Somewhere we grew apart.

I am still standing on the same page,
Where you were also there the last time
But now it seems like you now have even changed the book
You don’t love me anymore you just say you do.
Somewhere we grew apart.

Before you would go after who had hurt me,
What would you do now when it is you who is hurting me.
Now, you deliberately say things to break me,
You are pushing me away from you.
Somewhere we grew apart.

Isn’t is weird that you now are a stranger to me,
A stranger about whom a I know a hundred things that others don’t.
You always were an extrovert,
Somehow you moved on while still being with me.
Somewhere we grew apart.

Got a secret? Can you keep it?
Bury it deep in your grave.
Or I’ll knit a doll with ****** stitches,
Stern vows and broken wishes—
Bury it deep, or rot in the ditches.

Turning from my trustful gaze,
My thoughts twist through a thorny maze.
Calculating your faith,
As I sharpen my scathe.

Voices rise, a cursed din,
My ears trace every whispering sin.

Giggles fade, joy is peeled,
Just then, I know—
Your fate is sealed.

I wonder,
Why do we commit our darkest deeds, then tell?
The burn in our brains becomes a living hell.
I know you’ll tell.
I KNOW YOU’LL TELL.

Heart racing, humanity fading,
As I approach you, internally cascading.
Silent night, stone-cold face.

SUDDENLY—

Burgundy flows, sins atoned for.
My shirt stained,
With the weight of what I now bore.
No regret to shred,
Only two can keep a secret when one of them is dead.

I long to be known.
To be seen.
To be heard.

I long to be held,
In a comforting embrace,
And told that everything will be okay

I always thought someone would find me.
That it would be a perfect teenage romance,
Like you see in stupid fantastical films.

So I waited.
And waited.
And waited.

But no one came.

I was a naive fool.

Maybe it's just not meant to be.

every morning,
i wake with the light
of the sun in my eyes.

it’s a gentle yet sudden wake-up call,
as if the universe is
softly knocking on my window,
politely asking for entry
and barging into my bedroom
before i can allow any reply of admittance.
the newly opened door
invites the day ahead of me
to come breezing in,
responsibilities i had disregarded
before i drifted off hours prior
now hanging over me
like an overworking, demanding stormcloud.

i turn to my left and think of you,
still silent in your sleep
as the morning begins to begin out west.
the flowers atop your dresser
reach out to you,
admiring your beauty just as i am
from two thousand miles southeast.
i hope you’re dreaming of something peaceful.
i hope nothing ever wakes you before you’re ready.

i want nothing more than to be with you in this moment,
staining the blankets in your room with my scent
with every second i’m allotted.
or, i wish you were wrapped up with me in mine,
so that after you leave,
i can look for the similar impressions you’ve made
to preserve the memory of being with you
as perfectly as i can.

“a few more years,” you always say.
i’ve been counting down those seconds
since the moment you asked me to be yours.
saying yes to you was
the easiest decision i’ve made.
beginning to love you
a decade before i can give you a ring
and knowing it’s impossible
to flip the table where the waiting game is played
is the most difficult feeling i’ll ever know.

someday,
i’ll wake to the sounds
of you shifting next to me.
my eyes will open,
and yours will inevitably meet them
as you turn to face me.
our cat will jump up onto our bed,
and as snow falls outside
and the subway zips underneath us
below the earth we’ve conquered,
you’ll show me that same smile
that i pledged myself to
all those years ago.

in other words,
i’ll wake with the light
of the sun in my eyes.

and in its warmth,
i’ll find enough to bask in
to last me a lifetime.

well,
i'm not totally sure what to say.

but regardless of whether or not
i can get a hold of my words
and shove them into my mouth
so i stop making a fool of myself,

we find ourselves here
at this fork in the road.

i'm not much of a driver
nor a great decision maker.

but as we're making our bright red,
three second stop,
your hand finds my shoulder as if it was designed for it.
the magnets click into place
as the turn signal blinks at the touch of my hand,
and i follow it down the path
i promised us both that i would take.

it's an ordinary thing,
the road we've found ourselves on.
and yet,
i've never driven through snow on a beach before.
i can't seem to get myself used to the weather.

i take in the surroundings
and remind myself to breathe
as your grip on my shoulder loosens.

i feel as though we're doomed,
seeing visions of our car being driven off the cliff
that i swear i keep seeing
in the rear view mirror.

i brace myself for the impact,
the crash,
the fire.

but instead,
you roll the window down
and poke your head outside,
taking in the light wind
as we continue cruising.

the sun shines on your face
as if it knows
you are made of its light.
it opens its arms
to welcome you home,
and you smile and laugh
and tell me to turn the radio up.

so as we speed down the blacktop,
we let the world hear our songs.
and yet, they remain ours and ours alone.

the moment is ours
and ours alone.

we are ours
and ours alone.

and i am yours.
i am terrified of what lies ahead,
but i am yours.

and your body next to me
in the passenger seat
is all i need
to keep me on the right track.

He asked me:
"You're one of the chubby ones, aren't you?"
I didn't know how to respond.
Maybe I thought if I stayed silent,
the question would go away.

I had been feeling so good,
as if I’d finally escaped my insecurities.
I didn’t think a couple of words
could do so much damage.
But why didn’t I see it coming?

I curled my hair to distract from my round face.
I wore chunky necklaces
to hide the folds on my neck.
Big rings on my fingers,
so no one would notice their size.
Tight clothes cinched at my waist,
and every chance I got,
I’d **** in my stomach,
hoping they wouldn’t see my belly.

When I looked like a whale,
I hid beneath oversized black jackets,
draping my arms in the shadows.
I painted my face with makeup,
layer after layer,
as if it could camouflage the body underneath.

I live in a world where they say:
“Femininity is beautiful, embrace it.”
Another screams:
“Be strong, be invincible.”
Yet in the arms of a man,
the script flips completely.
“Let him lead. Let him control you.
Submit.”

“Don’t say no;
it will turn him off.”
And now, apparently,
they prefer when we beg them to stop.

Every compliment always felt like a cruel joke,
Every compliment had its own flaw.
But Finally, I looked at him and said,
"Why does it matter?

At sixteen,
I’m wild—
young, untamed,
running through life
with a heart
full of dreams
with mi príncipe
and no fear
of what comes next.

I see them in reflections - the orange juice glass at breakfast or my iPhone where they can pop-up, like notifications - I keep my phone face down.

They usually want to tell you something - how it was for them - their history. I discount these emotional messages - they come with the jester's assumption that I care - that I need the performance and will get involved.

“What are you doing?” My mom asks, as I’m taking all the shiny, mirror-like ornaments off the Christmas tree.
“The glare gives me a headache” I say, without stopping.
“Your Grandma does that too”, she says, wiping her hands on a Santa-themed dishtowel.
“Really?” I say, but I know that, and I know why.

I started having nightmares, when I was in first grade. My mom thought I had an overactive imagination but when she described it to my grandma, she soon showed up for a visit.

Over the next few weeks my Grandma told me about our “gift”. About how we were both born on the same day, under a waning third moon, in Autumn. That we're both “Yins,” doxies (sweethearts) of the dead and that we could, at times, see and hear people who were between stops on their way to their afterlives.

That’s why the dead parachute into my unused moments from reflective surfaces. They can be anxious or in despair - when their deaths were cruel or sudden - but I'm barely an adult - I'm in school - what can I do??

The presence of water discourages them - which is perfect - can you imagine seeing spirits in the reflections of your bath? EEUUUWWW!  
You’ll hardly ever see me without a water bottle or polarized sunglasses - which seem to break up the images. I'll not be smothered in other people's afterlives.

My Life is seen as a mess
In reality, it is as organized as can be
People always use their minds
To double-check what they see
I have never tried to hurt anyone
But when they think about myself, they ruin me

My Life is like trash, some say
To me, it's a beautiful display

People cut me down all the time
But my eyes tell me what always rhymes

It looks like my mental state made a disappearance
To me, My Life had never been an interference

I always felt the need to please others, it lifts you in the air
But for someone like me, you feel self-aware

Now, I'm stuck here, breaking the fourth wall
As I type this out, and speak to you all

No matter what the time, day, and place
The world feels like a runner in a race

People will pass you, for a short, little while
But don't let that get to you, just think, compile

Once you learn to accept that, all becomes clear
That it wasn't your mental state that began to disappear

So let people pass you, let them reach the finish first
But don't let your knowledge in that race disperse

You can speak in riddles or speak in rhymes
but just remember, its a matter of time

Please think about this, as I get to your head
Let this poem help you, and let you rest in your bed

For that is what matters now, don't forget it
Once this skill is learned, you can be omnipresent