Voicemail

Listen, I know I once wished to kill myself just so I could be reincarnated

and come back as your left lung to finally feel a type of breathing

that didn’t hurt, but I am done being the seconds between lightning and thunder.

I am done being the debris after the tornado.

I know it’s getting late and the stars are starting to wish upon themselves,

but before all is said and done, I just wanted to tell you-

I am the storm itself.

My mother once told me that skies are just a reflection of the ocean

but I am no longer a reflection of what you did to me.

I used to believe that on his bad days God or whoever’s up there

would switch the clouds and the seas around just to get a change of scenery

and for a few seconds the water would get to feel

all the pain the sky goes through at not being able to touch the ground

but here I am, telling you

that I am fine

and I don’t want you to feel what I feel anymore

because water doesn’t have the right to touch the skies it once tried to drown.

So I hope you memorize the sound of this dial tone after I hang up

because if you ever hurt another woman the way you hurt me,

that’s the only thing you’ll ever hear when you try to call her back. 

suicide hotline

Hello I can’t sleep, I’ve fallen in love with all the monsters inside my head

because they’re the only ones in my life who have cared enough to stay.

The other night I read about an old woman who died crushed beneath

a pile of her deceased husband’s suits and ties

and was only discovered three months later

by which time all the moths had flocked to eat holes in the clothing.

Don’t let that happen to me, please.

Don’t let me die crushed beneath this sadness

Waiting for all the monsters inside my head to flock like vultures

at the chance of finally being able to be let out.

Hello I can’t sleep either and this is why I do this job.

Listening to strangers on the other end sob.

I have monsters inside my head too; sometimes they sound just like you.

They whisper that everything is hopeless

and there’s no way out.

But they’re beautiful too.

As are you.

Because no matter what happens tonight or from now on,

they’ve found something they love and that, that is enough,

to help them stay.

Princess and the Frog

Princess, one day fuck will only be a swear word in your vocabulary

and someone will make love to you the way you deserve.

There is a difference between making and taking.

and there is a difference between a man who will kiss you like a promise

that he intends to keep

and a man who will kiss you like a promise that he will break

the same way he snaps a heart in half without wishing on the longest piece

of the one bone that’s left intact inside it.

Princess, one day that same heart will be the one you don’t cross

and hope to die on, but the one you choose to live on.

Wait for the ghosts that haunt you not with bad memories

but with so many good ones that they fill your brain with confetti

made up of all the most beautiful experiences you’ve ever had.

And let ‘em shower down on you til you understand that partying

doesn’t always have to involve parting ways

with everything you hold near and dear.

Sometimes the prince is disguised as the frog.

Sometimes, princess, you learn more from the crash landings

than the seatbelts.

So the next time you open your mouth to another

wait to make sure there’s a poem inside.

Loving him when he doesn't love himself

You don't notice at first. You're too busy getting lost in his eyes to realize how distant they are from yours. His words seem sincere, so you pay no mind to the hollow echo hovering around them after they have left his lips. His kisses set fire to your mouth, concealing the coldness of his body. His hands squeeze yours like he is trying to get rid of any space in between your fingers in hopes of finally feeling close to someone again. You compliment him and he thanks you, but his thanks lacks all depth, as if telling him he looks nice that day is a progressive as shouting into an empty void of self-consciousness. You'll sit there and scratch his back while he dozes off, his head of scruffy hair tenderly perched upon your chest, and you'll hear him quietly mumble in his sleep. Maybe it's easier for him to be honest with his eyes closed. He'll push you away and then pull you back just as quickly, knowing that although you might not be perfect he still needs you just as badly as you need him. Some days his smile will set a fire in your heart, while other days his harsh words slap you across the face and you find it hard to breathe. His eyes are hungry for someone. For hope, for attention, for love. But if his eyes are a ringing telephone then nobody seems to be home at the moment, Or at any moment. Your fingertips gently trace over his scarred knuckles, and you know that each scar holds a meaning, a story, but you are too afraid to ask how they ended. 

You've never felt love before. Never seen it, never believed in it. And although you stay skeptical, you know in your heart that you love him. Your brain is screaming at you to tell him. Your heart strings are pulling you closer and closer until there is no more room to pull. You want to tell him. But you can't. You're afraid. You are afraid to tell this boy you love him because you know that he does not love himself. Your mama always told you- "There is no such thing as being either a lover or a fighter. You can only be both. Because is it even love, really, if you don't have to fight for it?"  You will fight for this boy. You will show him you love him without ever telling him in hopes that one day he will be able to look at himself in the mirror and tell himself that he is worthy. He is important. He is loved. And the day he can look himself in the eye and say, "I love you", well, that's the day that you'll do the same. 

S.A.

Its not that I'm afraid. Its knowing that my mother held me in her arms less than 10 times before she gave me up. Its knowing that she came to visit me one day at the agency and walked out knowing she wasn't coming back- but I didn't know. Its knowing her heart had been broken so many times she started a relationship with drugs and renewed her vows every night. Its the experience of being given to a new family and not knowing anything about where you came from. Its the constant fights between mother and daughter, ending in breathless gasps of hurtful words and frustration. Its the memories of the tear-stained cheeks and muffled screams into my pillow so no one can hear me letting out the recollection of being unwanted. Its the tentative strokes of the razor on my hot skin after I take a shower, because why not hurt myself physically as bad as I was hurt mentally? Its watching every single one of my close friends slowly fade into just another person in the crowd. Its remembering the names of all the boys I have loved, and then remembering all the ways they told me I wasn't good enough. Its the way I look into a mirror and I see nothing. Its realizing that its easier to block out the feelings instead of letting people in; because people only come into your life to mess it up, and then they leave. Its not that I'm afraid of love. It's that I no longer know how to.

It

it is the way my breath catches in my throat when i see you walking that walk, a confident aura concealing your mind from anyone who speaks harshly of you. 
it is the way my stomach flutters when your blue eyes catch mine, and i see the curiosity and excitement you have for this world hidden deep within your irises.
it is the way your smell intoxicates me, leaving me desperately trying to inhale your scent in hopes i can breathe in just a little bit more of that attention that i crave so intensely. 
it is the way i stumble when your fingertips brush over the spots you just kissed and you laugh softly because you know what you do to me.
it is the way that last fast kiss after a long deep one leaves me the most breathless out of them all.
it is the way you pull me close in a protective hug, leaving no space in-between us for doubt to creep through. 
it is the way my heart skips a beat when i hear a car drive past my house, and my young naive mind silently hopes that its you coming to whisk me away from reality.
it is the way your smile makes me smile, and mine stays on long after yours has been replaced by the vacant look of a troubled mind and an empty heart. 
i'm not sure what it is,
i don't have a clue where it will lead me,
and i'm almost positive i will not survive it.
the only thing i know for sure right now
is that i'm completely in love with the feeling of it.

there.

                   she                                                                                he
                    never                                                                     always
                         knew                                                             knew
                              what                                                    what
                                    to                                                to
                                      say                                        say
                                            so                               but
                                               she                      was
                                                   stood        never
                                                             there
                                                        to        waiting
                                                  pick                    for
                                               up                               his
                                           all                                       words
                                        of                                               to
                                    the                                                      mend
                            broken                                                              her
                        pieces.                                                                      heart.