365-bleedingwords:

I am trying to be okay
with the 3000 miles that
keep me from you, 
keep me from love, 
keep me from hearing
your heartbeat while
we are under the sheets.

But they are there -
just as much as you are
there - and just as much
as I am here, and for all
of these reasons I knew
it would be hard, and for
all of these reasons I
thought it might be easy -

but I forgot about the way
the stars came out when
you smiled and I forgot
about the way I could feel
every inch of my body when
you watched me laugh
and I forgot that other people
can see this too
- can feel this too.

If six months was nothing
than three should be
irrelevant but I feel it in
my core. You are already
bored of me and I am trying
to be okay with that.

idk man sometimes i’m sleep deprived and write things.

2:01 am  •  22 May 2013  •  4 notes

365-bleedingwords:

i.
On that night, the stars
took over my insides
and made me remember
that the ghosts still exist
and were waiting for another
to haunt me again.
You sat wordless
but not loveless, kissing
me on the head when
I finally gasped for air
and saw the light.

ii.
I was terrified for months
but you stood by me
and held my hand
and swore to close
the door on the demons
who creeped inside.

iii.
The dishes are still
in the sink
and the drawing is still
on my wall
and your taste is still
in my mouth,
but now I’m alone
and now I’m wordless
and now the door
was left open
and you didn’t even
look back.

10:20 pm  •  21 May 2013  •  6 notes

365-bleedingwords:

So, uh, I tried my hand at spoken word the other day. It’s the first one I’ve written, and is partially made up of parts of a lot of poems I wrote previously, and partially just my going on a tangent. Regardless, I’m fairly happy with it. If you’d like the text of it, it’s in the read more.

Read More

so uh, yeah. this happened.

9:12 pm  •  12 May 2013  •  7 notes

365-bleedingwords:

It wasn’t sex and it wasn’t truth,
and it sure as hell wasn’t love, 
but I cried on the drive home 
as that damned song came on 

- the one that used to play while
the loneliness scarred my skin -

and all I could think about were
all the times you didn’t hold me
but just told me to put it down
and how I let myself think that was love.

You took the stars from my eyes,
you took the “it’ll never happen
to me” feeling, you took my safety
around other boys. You took my
everything I had a right to and now
you come back telling me you care
about me, telling me you wish I didn’t
pour the liquid bitter happiness into
my liver but you didn’t give a damn
when it was your taste in my mouth.

10:14 pm  •  6 May 2013  •  10 notes

365-bleedingwords:

I can’t help but imagine
her Cinnamon Lips
and Crimson Heart,
tiny palms and dancing eyes,
her presence around me
like the way Amanda
and I used to sleep.

I imagine she tastes
the way the air does
on Christmas Eve
when everything
is magic -
but I know her bones
are even frailer than
the wishbone Lillie

9:42 pm  •  25 April 2013  •  3 notes

365-bleedingwords:

You say
there aren’t any more
little white lines,
I no longer need
to hide the scissors,
you can’t see my bones
and I’m smiling again.
The sunshine is out,
I’m not broken hearted and
“this was a good winter,”
so you say I am no longer sad.

You say
that I should live
like the past
is in my veins
- for it is -
and let others find
their own path.

But I only feel
the sunshine when
I am sure no hearts
ache because of me,
because I still have not
learned to be happy
on my own, still
have not learned
that every action could
come full of pain,
still have not learned
that I have to live
with stars in my eyes,
but you say that I am happy.

2:11 pm  •  21 April 2013  •  4 notes

365-bleedingwords:

My heart
is open
my feelings
are raw,
my thoughts
cannot stop
picturing the smile
you gave me
the moment
I felt my walls
fall down.

But the states have
created their
own boundaries,
and love is not
a distance
and love does not
know months
but my heart does
- my tears do -
and I’m afraid
you are starting
to as well.

12:43 am  •  17 April 2013  •  5 notes

365-bleedingwords:

I think I’ll always be stuck
with my sixteen year old heart
loving her friends too much
a boy too much
everything too much
when nothing really loves her
quite the same way back.

I’m stuck with her awkward
smiles at best friends
whose hands do not mean
a thing and I am stuck
…

10:20 pm  •  8 April 2013  •  2 notes

365-bleedingwords:

I don’t know what
the spring time means
or why the birds sing
every goddamn day
and I don’t know what
you mean - ever or to me -
and I don’t know what I
mean when I say I don’t
want you to go;

But I do know
that everything gets
lighter when the flowers
bloom and I’m writing
less than I’m singing
for the first time in
years and you are something
that is good and I like
the good things to stay.

I don’t know much about
anything but I do what
I can with what I have
and what I have is a lifetime
of choices and they’re all
starting now.

2:37 pm  •  7 April 2013  •  4 notes

365-bleedingwords:

I grew up believing
I would never understand
why the sun sets so the moon
can rise and why the moon
hides away to let the sun
shine brighter, and years later
I met a boy who made it all
make sense and from then on
I believed love at first sight was
the only way it could exist.

But years later I met another
who did not do a single thing
but made me believe that
the excitement in growth
is what makes everyone love
the spring, the excitement
of what could be makes the
sun rise and so I too
will try to shine brighter.

10:35 pm  •  18 March 2013  •  6 notes

365-bleedingwords:

I.
can’t cut it out like i did 
when i was young, scared
more of the harsh words
of preteen boys than I ever
was of the way the blades’
little marks made me
unpretty.

II.
It started when I let it drip
from every crack in my
no good heart the night he
told me it was my fault he
loved her and lied to me.

III.
Words on paper don’t always 
make it disappear, just like 
hot tea and cold air do nothing
but sharpen the pain.

IV.
the alcohol
is gone. 
the weed
is gone.
i’m too weak to waste
one of my final good
cigarettes.

V.
when you can’t sleep
because
you’re sad and you’re sad
because
you can’t sleep.

VI.
my bones 
are made 
of it now.

10:26 pm  •  10 March 2013  •  2 notes

365-bleedingwords:

I thought I warned you
of my fickle hands
and empty words,
the way my heart
can’t choose
and my head doesn’t
feel it has to,
the way I don’t let go
and the way I couldn’t
hold on if I tried.

I warned you
I had loved before,
and it took the life
out from every part
of me but my heart,
yet still I cannot
love the same way
- any way - again.

I warned you
of the things I’ve done
and the things
I’ve had done to me,
and how both are
the same thing
in different places,
in different ways
and I will do them all
again and I want to do
them all again, without
the shaky palms.

I thought I warned you
of the places I’ve been
and how I will return, yet
still you offer me your heart
and still I take it
and still you blame me
for the damage
your own will has caused.

1:04 pm  •  4 March 2013  •  5 notes

365-bleedingwords:

I want to love you
with my walls down
and God I do when
you’re telling me
how the night does
not make sense
without a body next
to yours and how
nothing compares
to a kiss we haven’t
had but you disappear
as fast as you came

and I end up
in the dark
in my bed
with no you
and barely any me
and I need to cry
but have no tears
and all I want
is to hold you.

9:57 pm  •  3 March 2013  •  7 notes

365-bleedingwords:

If you still miss
the feeling,
you still don’t
have it.

You owe it to your heart
to find the sun in another’s
eyes again; you owe it
to the little girl - years ago -
who told mommy she
would wait forever to find
someone just like her daddy,
and you owe it to her to still
find love, even after daddy
proved to be less than a father;
you owe it all the food you
forgot to eat because you
wanted someone to notice
you; you owe it to the marks
that dance across your skin
because nobody ever kissed
them away.

If you miss it,
you don’t have it,
and you owe
it to yourself
to know
the difference
between
the sadness
for what was lost
and the hope
for what isn’t.

11:52 am  •  3 March 2013  •  4 notes

365-bleedingwords:

I am so scared that
they will come back
and my life will not be
my own and the demons
will control me even in
the sunshine but I am
more scared of you leaving
than I am of them coming,
even when every single
word you say reminds me
of the way your roots are
wrapped around the parts
of my heart I thought I had
lost some February evening.

I am scared of losing someone
who made the little white lines
on little white skin go away,
but I am most terrified to realize
that I, too, am rooted in you.

1:03 am  •  3 March 2013  •  3 notes