now i see the stars.there was a time when icouldn't catch my breath whenever ithought about you , (crippled lungs and-boy, you hit me like an asteroid,there's a crater on my chest now that I can't ever seem to fill,even withoceans of my tears cried onnights when you couldn't be there to sing me to sleep.thirty two poemless days after you joined the constellations,i walked out into the yard and howled to the empty sky,andfor a moment i was Gaea, rivers running down my cheeks,weighted to the ground andburied in myself, butwhere there is no light there are no shadows, andsometimes, i wonder if i miss me.yes, yes i do.i may not see the moon, but
she's gone, she's gone.don't tell a broken girl withgrief pouring into the juts of her cheekbones,hunger suffocating into the curves of her ribs,that her eyes are madeof moonlightand her hair was weaved fromsunshine when you arelight years away and millennia too late
society.We live in a societywhere obese men can't be beautiful.We live in a societywhere being African American automatically makes us criminals.We live in a societywhere women are looked down upon as whores and sluts.We live in a societywhere having
things that fall apart2:36, new york city, i canimagine youlooking out your window,watching the cars pass by instead of the waves, andsomething isn't right, because there's ocean in your blood andi anchor you.love,you still believe in the girl i used to be, butshe's been gone longer than this white sky summer.
forgive me.forgive me for being pretty,because i'm always going to be a slut.forgive me for being ugly,well, no matter how little i wear,i'll never be beautiful enough.forgive me for being skinny,because i'm fragile and weak.forgive me for being fat,well, no matter what i've been throughi'll never be able to speak.forgive me for being strong,because no one will even let me fight.forgive me for being weak,well, no matter how much you yell at me,i'll never be right.forgive me for loving a man,because i'll never be under attack.forgive me for loving a woman,well, no matter what i love,i'll never be loved back.forgive me for being educated,because i can't have power.forgive me for being ignorant,because i was giving birth during school hours.forgive me for being a feminist,because i have no right to speak.forgive me for fighting for equality,because my voice is dainty and weak.forgive me for being a daughter,because i don't deserve an education.forgive me for being
beauty (lost)and i swear, this is the last time he'llpin me to the wall(he tells me i'm a work of art,but after all this time, i'm still just a girl)too young, too young, the walls whispertoo late, too late, i sobbecause this battered body,this girl with the scarlet tattoos, she is too tired to escapeand her wings won't work in the rain.and as i suck in air, i wonder, how many more will have to endurethe pain of not being their owni have heard too many screams, all at once(God who i stopped believing in,if you can hear me,let this end, so that when i am walking in the streetswith my child, i can swear,that she will neverhave scars on her back,she will neverhave welts on her heart)
he saved me, but he killed me._i. first light- i met you in a crimson forest. it was a rose garden summer, and out of a black mercedes you walked out, your five year old eyes greener thansunlit saplingsyou reached up to pluck a rose from its stem, and offered it to me."what's your name?"daddy told me that i couldn't tell strangers my real name.I looked at the rose in my hand."Rose."you smiled, you were a seastorm of now long-gone innocence.i didn't understand but I knew.ii. i forgot about you for 1562 days, 11 hours, and 22 minutes,you shoutedmy name, but i didn't recognize youuntil i saw your eyes.iii. my father fell and didn't stand back up again.i screamed, and you carried me home.iv. i didn't talk for a week. i stared at the gray of the sky. it was the color of my father's eyes.you sat next to me in the pouring rain,your war
they told me no one could love a girl with scars.i told them that i could love myself.
remember,when i was your lioness andwe ruled the world withscattered light andephemeral dreams.andafter all this time, istill stay up late thinking of you,pinching myself awake to keep the image of you in my headuntil i hear you sing me to sleep.we all have our demons, i was always yours.waking up with bruises on my arms in an empty bed,the devil inside of me whispers that it's not over yet, andhe pumps turbulence from my carved open heart into my saltwater bloodi feel every half-healed scar split open to bleed yet again.wanting you is wanting the safety of the starswhen i'm already in free fall (into the grave).my siren, i was born to die but you loved me into a phoenix.
treasureI watched beauty die today.She said, "I've lived too longand now nobody knowswhat I really am."
.if thesewalls couldtalkthen i'm surethey'd bescreamingget out,burn usdown,we can'tbearto hold youanylonger(been too busy dreaming to get any sleep)
.when we talkwe use our wordslike grenades;you roll them outand they land at my feet,i either choose to throwthem back,or choose to run
.you're afraidto let anyonestoke the firein your chestfor fearyou will burnthem alive
.we are allstrayssearching forhomes ineach other
.you break freefrom the grip ofthe oceanjust to die inthe arms of the shorefrom exhaustion
never become a writeri.never become a writer.you will become a perfectionist,picking life apartwith a magpie's eye,hunting for the beautiful bits until you can make yourselfa sparkling thronein the center of a junkyard.ii.you will write when you're sad.you will write when you're happy.whenever you feel something,you will vomit the emotion outinto some sort of literature.when you're finished,you'll be emptyand surrounded by pages and pages of everything you once were.iii.you will try to make pain sound delicious,painting over the ragged woundswith pink paintand candy-coat lies.you will learnhow to decorate graveyards.everyone will play in them,but you alone will see the headstones.iv.if you fall in love,you will turn your love into a poem,and you will always like your own wordsmore than you like the real person.you'll become so selfishyou'll disgust yourself,but you will not be ab
Sanctuary?Shadows Can't Follow You In The Dark.
the dead and the dyingthe funny thing abouthumans is thatwe think we areinvincible and immortalgods.no—we're allroadkill,living ina tainted worldwhere cars drivetoo damn fast.and me,well,i just try toget by withoutbeing hitmore than once.
.your heart is a houseand i am screaming atthe front door
DifferenceTo be lonely is painful,To be alone is liberating.
.what doesn't kill youcomes back with something strongerto finish the job
.sometimes faith slowlyprises open our ribsdecides to slip outquietlyand unseen
.some people witherwith love;others bloom
fourdo not wish upona star, the starsare dead; the skyis filled with corpses
.death has a wayof assuring youthat he is youronly friend;he's the onlyone that willstay with youwhenever youreach the end
.i said death,death is a closet;let's all just hangourselves up and keepthe place tidy -
.dig lifejust to get buried
-she knew he was a grave, but she buried herself in him anyway.