Pretty imperfect

They tell beautiful stories
to the ugly children
who never knew anything else.
They fill their heads
with falsehoods and lies
that not even the storytellers have seen.
They shower them with praises
of their imaginary perfection
that dance and mix in their dreams.
They, with their skewed realities,
their hidden resentment,
their deformities,
tell the young minds what is
(or isn't)
to have them hate and resent
and pass it on.

Untitled 2

They live and breathe
and fall down together
seizing and spazzing
paying their dues,
putting up with it like they have to.

Others choke each other
to asphyxiation
and still manage to let go
and move on.

Untitled 1

I want to tell you all my secrets,
but it seems I've forgotten what to say.
I could tell you everything,
but I know what you'll think of me
if I do,
and that you'll leave.


I don't say anything.
I keep quiet.
I hide it all away.
Then I watch you leave,
glued to this spot,
and don't bother to open my mouth
to ask you why.

At all?

Would you even see me
if I was kneeling in front of you,
blocking your way
with my tear-filled and pleading eyes?

Would you hear me
if I was sobbing and begging
for you to take me back in your arms
and call me yours again?

Would you feel my pain
if I told you how much it hurt
to see you run off
with that thing called a girl?

Would you care, even a little,
if you watched me break down
and did nothing to help,
even in my most needy times?

Would you notice
when I never showed up again,
when you didn't see me anywhere,
because of everything you didn't do?

That's a different story.

Don't ask me about the grudges I hold,
because really, I have none.
Ask me, instead, for my reasons for being upset,
because those I could run off for you.

I gold nothing against anyone
who was not involved,
or who happened to stumble in on a certain
battle of integrity and pride.

I smile
at whoever has done so first,
that anyone who wants can see.

Now as for how I really feel,
well...

A silent plea for no help

Dearest wind, don't even try
to keep me upright.
I ask you to blow at my back.
Make life easier for me,
instead of asking me to work harder.
Merciless ocean below,
your ice cold grip
appears warm and welcoming
from my peak-view.
Please save your applause
until the end of the show.
To the night birds flying overhead,
a dinner for you.
Don't fight the happy families of three
for their potato chips
and sandwich crusts.
And, oh!
The fullest of full moons,
come to watch
and stare helplessly,
how is your seat?
I see you sent your friend
to caress my face and ask,
one last time,
to reconsider my choice.
Deep breath, floating down...

But what's this?
A grasp at my t-shirt
and panting, sputtering from behind
"What are you doing?!"
I should be asking you the same question
I know that voice.
I remember,
yes I remember quite clearly.
It's the reason I'm here in the first place.

Here and forward: From the other side

Sure, I see her cry,

I’m not blind,

But I don’t care anymore.

How can I care when I have someone new?

I left her for dead,

She’s no longer my problem.

It’s her fault, anyway.

She wouldn’t leave me alone.

I have others to think of now.

Supposedly they get me.

They helped me figure out who I am.

She never helped me.

This is me now.

This is who I’m supposed to be.

Where is everyone going?

And here I am, alone again,

My best friend nowhere in sight.

Maybe I should have listened.

Please forgive me.

No more empty promises.

I promise.

General update, no poems right now.

As much as I know that there aren't a lot of people who actually read this, I felt it necessary to inform the internet community that I am not, in fact, dead. I have been experiencing the magical illness known to most as "writer's block" (whatever the hell that means) and will hopefully be updating more over the summer. Yay me.

Can I just say thank you?

"Like a comet pulled from orbit, as it passes a sun. Like a stream that meets a boulder halfway through the wood. Who can say if I've been changed for the better? But because I knew you, I have been changed for good"

I'm coming to realize that there are people in our lives that will be moving in and out and possibly even back in again. And these people will all change us in some way or another. There have been a lot of bumps in this little road called life, and I'm nowhere near my exit, but I'm content with how everything is turning out.

To my friends who have stuck by me: I love you guys!!
To the people that happened to stumble in on my bad days: Thank you for listening.
To those who seem to have slipped out of reach: The point is that you were in reach at some time or another.

Thank you to everyone who has been with me, near me, loved me, hated me, and everything in between.
Believe me, you shan't be forgotten.

Therapy

I'm messed up

and i need fixing.

And i need summer

so i can be fixed;

so i may bask in the sun,

and fry like bacon,

only to ask:

where has the winter gone?

I can try, anyway...

I can be that for you, if you want.
I can be whatever you want me to,
if it means I'll be more than wasted space.

I can be just a piece of ass.
I can be that desperation call,
if it means you'll call to say you need me.

I can be everything you need in someone.
I can be your sloppy seconds, if you want,
if it means I can pretend you're mine.

Just say the word,
and I'm all yours.

And that's what happened, officer.

I can only remember a loud bang and then...
Then there was red, red everywhere
Warm at first, then freezing, then nothing.
And suddenly I was floating, in a way.
I could look down and see me,
And the mess, oh, God, the mess.
Did I really do that?
No going back now.
Nobody heard it, there's no one around.
For the best, I guess, I didn't want a scene, anyway.
And now to think of where to go.
They will find me like this.
But who? Would he come looking?
He would be the one person I would want to see,
the last face before I leave this place for good.
I want to gaze at his anguish,
if there was to be any.
I want him to see what he caused.
Maybe if I go see him now...
No, how would he know I was gone?
Someone was bound to hear that shot,
surely there was someone that heard it.
Cue the police sirens.
Might as well stick around and see what happens.

I failed.

I'm sorry I didn't turn out
to be everything you wanted:
The always straight-A'ed
honor roll student with the
free ride to the Ivy Leagues.

I'm sorry I didn't turn out
to be everything you wanted:
The always available shoulder
and emergency boy-chocolate
that made it all better.

I'm sorry I didn't turn out
to be everything you wanted:
The touch-me-wherever
always ready for the next step
body bag you said you loved.

I'm sorry I didn't turn out
to be everything you wanted:
The happy go lucky attitude
that was really just a mask,
but that you always smiled at.

I'm sorry I didn't turn out
to be everything you wanted:
The one who would see him
with his couch and medications
before it got this far.

I'm sorry I took too many of the wrong one.

Memoirs of a Single Mom (Part 5)

Too old for this
Get up off the floor
Put that down
Get down from there
Give that back
Stop screaming
Please, please stay quiet.

Too young for this
Back pains and headaches
Work 5 days, 11 hours
No time to even clean
Bills, bills, pay, pay
A little here, a little there
None for me.
No, never for me.

Too much for too little
Head not on straight
Can I sleep here with you?
Eyes get heavy
Light breathing from a little face
Maybe it's worth it.

Chain of Reason

If out of sight is out of mind,
and out of sight is also out of reach,
would that not mean that out of reach is out of mind?

And if this is true,
would that not mean that hope, dreams, goals, etc.,
are not to be worked for?

Then wouldn't that conclude
that attempts at pure, unfiltered happiness
are useless, futile, superfluous?

So what's the point in trying at all for anything
or anyone?

You dug it, now lay in it.

I may have been digging this hole for myslef,
but at least he was there helping me dig it.
Now I get to sit in it, more alone than I was
before he was mine.
And I get to look up and cry while I watch him bury me
with a smile etched across his face.

What's wrong?

Oh, it's nothing.
Smoke filled kitchen,
burned chicken crisp
resting on the stovetop.
Mushy vegetables,
over-steamed in the pot.
Don't even talk about
the runny pudding,
the pan of popping oil drips,
or the broken dish
and spattered gravy on the floor.
It's a miracle the dog
hasn't found his way outside
in this mess of frustration
and disappointment.
And I haven't had time to change
out of my bloody sweatpants.
But we can try again in a week
after this cycle.
We're out, by the way.
Perfect...

Why would you tell me that?

Yeah,
that's what you asked.
I get it.
You're a guy.
Metaphorical speak isn't your forte.
But that?
Was just stupid.
Why would I tell you
that I watched our dreams
crumble,
and did nothing?
Why would I tell you
about the future I saw
for us?
Why would i regret thinking
that you were it?
Because I saw you leave
before you left.
Because I saw the flames rise
and die.
Because I saw you.
Because I felt helpless.
Because I couldn't watch you leave
again.
Oh,
too late.

Not quite dinner and a movie, but good enough.

So I was a mistake.
So you hate me.
So you want nothing to do with me.
So what?
Hate you, too.
Didn't want you around either.
Might as well go backward!
And jump like you always wanted.

But warn me ahead of time.
I want snacks for this show.

Part 2

Sometimes she tries to hold
her head high when she sees him
walk past, but ends up hiding her face.

And sometimes she comes to think
that nothing is getting better,
instead spinning, spiraling downward.

And sometimes she finds
something else of his in an
old drawer or cabinet.

And sometimes she cries into
the one old t-shirt he left behind
(which is starting to smell less like him).

And sometimes she still wakes up
screaming at the thought of watching
him fall (on repeat).

And sometimes she keeps the phone
on her bedside table because
she never knows when he might call.

And sometimes red and blue lights
flood the windows of the house and
illuminate the once darkened streets,

Because the one time he decided
to show was the day her practice
was put to good use.

And sometimes he thinks about her
and everything he could apologize for
and sheds a tear or two.

Part 1

Sometimes she wears makeup to bed
to look pretty for the man that
shows up in her dreams.

And sometimes she wishes that he
would remember her birthday one year
(or today)
before he falls asleep beside her.

And sometimes she counts the tears
as she thinks about who would care
if she was gone.

And sometimes she waits alone at night
on her porch with the hope that he
will come down and sit by her side.

And sometimes she twirls the rope
around her fingers and hands,
tying, untying, and retying just in case.

And sometimes he stumbles through
the bedroom doors at all hours
and expects everything all over.

And sometimes she sits in the dark at
the kitchen table with a tumbler and ice and
a half empty bottle staring her in the face.

And sometimes she thinks about
how sorry she is for whatever she did
to deserve this life.

And sometimes she realizes that
it's a question that will remain unanswered.

Insomnia

No,
no sleep for me tonight.
Shut away the living nightmares
and watch the headlights cross the ceiling.
Every creak,
every light whisper from the radiator,
like thunder.
Turn on the light?
No, what fun would that be?
To make the flashbacks
diffuse like smokey spinnerets
after a hushed candle.
No more relived memories made to movies.
And forget about having reason to cry,
the only way I seem to tire.
But even that doesn't heavy my lids.
That damned drafty window
makes the curtains dance.
Images of faces
from the corner of my eye.
Of course,
they're gone now.
Stop following me!
Light purples show first signs of dawn.
Blink.
Daylight.
14 hours and counting to do it all again.

Not totally lying.

If I smile,
that means I'm happy, right?
Facial expression is the first thing people see.
Smile and the world smiles back.
Maybe one day I'll join it.

If people see my happy,
even if I'm pretending,
that makes me a happy person, right?
Even when three inches above my smile,
there are tears on the breaking edge.

They're just about ready to jump,
and I can't say I blame them.
I would want out, too,
take the first flight to freedom,
show everyone how it really is.

I'm up for a thrill right about now.
Stand on the edge with a straight look down.
And take the plunge.
Be free like the tears
I try, and fail, to suppress.

Memoirs of a Single Mom (Part 4)

Him - Mommy, why do I always have to go play at Daddy's house?
Me - Because daddy wants to play with you and spend time with you sometimes, too.
Him - But I like it here better. That's not fair.

Him - Mommy, why does Daddy always bring over play-dates? I don't like them. They treat me like a baby, but I'm a big boy now, right?
Me - Yes, you are a big boy now. But sometimes when you go to bed, daddy still has time to play with his play-dates.
Him - That's just cuz he doesn't play with me...
Me - What do you mean?
Him - When I go to Daddy's for a sleepover, he just makes me watch the guys with the funny hats that cover their faces play catch.
Me - Football?
Him - Yeah, football. And then when they don't do good, Daddy gets mad and makes me go to bed early. Then I get woke up by him wrestling with his play-date in Daddy's room.
Me - Well maybe that's just how daddy likes to play.
Him - But it's not fair.

Him - Mommy, I don't want to go to Friendly's with Daddy.
Me - Why not? You love Friendly's.
Him - Not with Daddy. He never lets me get anything I want cuz it's too much.
Me - Maybe this time if you behave and ask really nicely, he'll let you get what you want, okay?
Him - Fine...but can we play a game when I get home, pleeeease?
Me - If it's not too late and you get your PJs on fast enough, you can pick out a game to play.Whatever you want.
Him - That's why I like it here better. Daddy doesn't play anything fair.

Him - But Daddy, I want to stay here!
him - Why don't you want to come with me? I bought ice cream and chicken nuggets and recorded the game for tonight.
Him - Because you don't play with me. You're no fun.
him - Oh...
Me - Well then, I guess you have more fun at home in store for you and your "play-date", don't you?
him - I guess I'll get going then. Bye.
Me - Bubye, now.
(I watch him leave. he opens the car door and the short burst of light reveals yet another girl...but this is the one that I of all people should recognize.)

Adam's Song by Blink-182

I don't really know what's up, but I can't think of much lately. So here's a song that I've had stuck in my head since I heard it:

I never thought I'd die alone
I laughed the loudest who'd have known
I traced the cord back to the wall
No wonder it was never plugged in at all
I took my time, I hurried up
The choice was mine, I didn't think enough
I'm too depressed, to go on
You'll be sorry when I'm gone

I never conquered, rarely came
16 just held such better days
Days when I still felt alive
We couldn't wait to get outside
The world was wide, too late to try
The tour was over we'd survived
I couldn't wait till I got home
To pass the time in my room alone

I never thought I'd die alone
Another six months I'll be unknown
Give all my things to all my friends
You'll never set foot in my room again
You'll close it off, board it up
Remember the time that I spilled the cup
Of apple juice in the hall
Please tell mom this is not her fault

I never conquered, rarely came
16 just held such better days
Days when I still felt alive
We couldn't wait to get outside
The world was wide, too late to try
The tour was over we'd survived
I couldn't wait till I got home
To pass the time in my room alone

I never conquered, rarely came
Tomorrow holds such better days
Days when I can still feel alive
When I can't wait to get outside
The world is wide, the time goes by
The tour is over, I'd survived
I can't wait till I get home
To pass the time in my room alone

Enjoy. :)?

It's nice to know you're hated.

Who are you to ask anything of anyone?
You deserve nothing.
You are below dirt.
Anything below dirt needs nothing,
not even air to breathe or sun to soak.
Darkness is where you started.
Back to square one again.
And who will come to your rescue?
The hand you once held,
but then rejected,
where is that hand?
Clamber and scramble,
alone, scared, shaking, spinning.
Ask for the hand you once held,
but then rejected.
It cannot plunge into dirt and darkness.
Too late.
Who are you to ask anything of anyone?
Even for she who begged for so long,
just to get tossed aside.
One too many mistakes.
Enjoy the blackness that is your new home.

Joy Ride

Freedom,
sweet freedom!
Howl at the moon
from the window
on the driver's side.
Grin at it with
gleaming white teeth.
Stare with glimmering eyes
barred in by heavy
black eyeliner and
too much mascara.
Playing the part
wearing a leather jacket
and wildly curly hair.
Trying too hard to look
older, more mature.
Blast the radio!
Make the adventure heard
and release the inner
caged animal
clawing at its prison!
White knuckles clutch
the steering wheel.
A kiss for good luck.
Laugh as a foot hits the gas
a bit harder
than anticipated.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."
Forever apologizing.
So much for the rebellion
disguised as maturity.
The bark will regrow.
Scars will heal.
Does reverse work in life, too?
No face will look the same,
cursed with the stain
of stupidity.
Never again
will the glimmer shine.

Untitled.

Poof?
Or boom?
Slip slowly?
Or hard fall?
Surprise!
Or see it coming
a mile away?
Comfort?
Or solitude?
Premeditated?
Self-inflicted?
Or from someone
that you would kill for?
Yes,
or no?

Flicker, flicker, blow.
Smokey spindles.
Or perhaps a harsh wind
to chill to the bones
of those who watch
you lifeless.
And you lay,
color drained,
on your back.
Funny.
That's how you ended up
here
in the first place.

Just because you can't see something, doesn't mean it's not there.

Hidden under the ice and snow
is the place you laid with me that summer night.

Underneath your hard outer shell
is the love you showed me all those years.

Stretching toward the forgiveness from you
is a hand looking to hold yours.

Sitting alone in the cold and darkness
is the person forever waiting for you.

Proof that girls handle more than Boy Scouts

Boy Scout: I can make a fire and sustain it for 6 hours.
Girl: Well I can make people and sustain them for 9 months.

Boy Scout: I can tie a rope in over 20 different ways.
Girl: Well I can squirt out an alien. It's attached to a rope. Try and tie that one.

Boy Scout: I can rough it in the woods for a weekend. No shower.
Girl: I can bleed for a week and not die. Repeatedly.

Just some thoughts...

“We are not the same persons this year as last; nor are those we love. It is a happy chance if we, changing, continue to love a changed person.” ~ William Somerset Maugham

I came across this the other day and for some reason or another, it spoke to me. I realized how completely true it is and I am starting to think that this is what true love is: loving someone no matter who they become. And it's realizations such as this one that makes me wish certain people knew about this experiment of mine.

I speak the truth

Trying so hard to hide from me is laughable.
Watching you be so ignorant amuses.
Also, you really need to shave.

Untitled

Save me from me,

Come back to remind me of who I was.

Don’t leave my heart here on the table.

Tell me all you have to tell.

Give me all you have to give.

Show me that I don’t have to walk alone.

I need you to bring me back to life.

I want you to be mine again.

Do what you want, say what you will,

throw the first fist, I could care less.

Just show me that I exist to you.

You don’t need to tell me you love me,

you don’t need to show me you care.

Call me yours and make me real.

I need you, to be me.

You are my everything.

I’ll take back anything I said,

I’ll undo whatever I did wrong,

I’ll do whatever you want

if you promise to love me again.

Only this time, don’t take it back.

Green-eyed monster come out to play.

I see the way you look at her,
the way you talk to her.
I can't help but get upset.
I remember how you used to be that way with me.
I can hear it in your voice.
You found your new someone, your new everything.
And I hate her for it.

It's not quite suicide if you were just playing pretend.

It's not quite suicide if you were just playing pretend.
It's not quite death if you meant to wake up.
It's not quite grief if you couldn't do anything.
It's not quite repetition if you don't know what you're repeating.
It's not quite fear if you knew what you were doing.
It's not quite blind if you saw his eyes.
It's not quite a joke if you're the only one laughing.
It's not quite suicide if you were just playing pretend.

Memoirs of a Single Mom (Part 3)

It's Friday, 6p.m.
A ring from the doorbell, three knocks, ring again.
That same old stupid routine of his.
I sigh and force myself to walk to the door,
to the so-called "man" that broke my heart
and has come to take my world away like every Friday before
(meanwhile fighting every urge to lock up
and leave him standing there).
The usual, hollow script to follow upon opening:
Hello, how are you, what time do I get him back?
Damn the courts.
He doesn't deserve the weekends
even if he thinks it's his "right".
Damn the agreements.
He doesn't deserve to take everything I work for away.
Damn him.
My world is my own.
Not for any other selfish pig,
who could care less about the mother of his child,
to take as he pleases.
A check and lonliness every week
like I'm some cheap, unappreciated whore.
Is this life?
What it's all about?
Fighting with the man I once loved?
This isn't how I saw it.
He probably doesn't even care about his kid.
Just takes him to stab and twist at me
over and over again.
Bring him back.
He belongs with me, not you.
You screwed me over once already.
End my suffering.

I'm still waiting.

I love you.
Love you.
Love.
Love?
I tore down walls for you,
ripped through all my barriers,
untied every safety net
and walked the tightrope to security,
to my life with you.
Don't look down.
And you told me you loved me.
You promised me everything.
You promised me my future.
You said I was everything to you,
the reason why you're even here.
And now,
all you promise me is black nothingness.
A void.
Empty spaces.
Don't you see me?
Notice me standing here, awaiting your embrace?
Looking for a steady hand to hold?
Do you even care?
No, of course not,
he's a big boy now,
all ready to be his own person.
Cuz he's not happy here with me,
with the person he said he'd love forever.
He promised.
But he doesn't need me like I need him.
He has my heart and he chose to walk away with it.
Three, two, one, gone.
Please, tell me, look my way,
right here in my eyes,
the ones you said were so beautiful,
and honestly say to me that you can't see
the tears and pain
in plain sight.

No second chances

To cry in front of you.
I've done it so many times before.
What makes this time...
all these times...
different?
Hot tears is all it is.
One more time for you to see.
Need a shoulder?
Too bad, it walked away along with everything you used to be.

Seeking help from the cold shoulder.

It's your face I could never forget.
Those eyes, that so many times made everything wrong right.
I still love them.
It kills me to hear you laugh,
the laugh that so many times laughed with me.
I still love it.
It hurts when I see her hand clutch your jacket,
the one that so many times was offered to me when I shivered.
I still need it sometimes, you know.
It stings when I walk in my room and see nothing but you
because of that one day when I decided to play house.
I still love you.
It's the memories I can never let go of.
They're the ones I escape to every night when I remember that I'm alone.
And every time, I ask myself the same questions:
Is it him I'm in love with, or who he was that I want back?
So...any insight?

I dare you.

What are you gonna do?
Hit me?
How can you hit something that isn't there?
How can you aim at something you've made invisible?
Right hook, knee to chin,
that's what you do, isn't it?
Your tough guy show?
Could you even do it if you tried?
Would it make you happy?
It would make me happy.
Because even a violent touch
is an acknowledgment of my existence. 

True Story

I'm not sure whether to tell you or not,
but I dreamed about you last night.
Sometimes I really hate myself for that.
I hate waking up.
You were crying and holding me by my shoulders
telling me how stupid you were,
begging for me back.
And just like that, I melted again.
For that one moment, I forgot everything.
I asked you to promise,
and you swore that this time you wouldn't leave me,
that you'd never make such a mistake again.
That's when I woke up.
I was crying, too.
But for a different reason.

But I am me.

Regardless of my obvious muscle-lacking physique,
I am strong.
Sure, it'd be nice to have someone there,
to call at 3a.m. when I have a nightmare,
to hold me close when I fall apart,
to kiss me in just the right places,
to whisper promises of always when I lay in his arms,
to tell me everything will be alright.
But no, I don't need someone there.
Crying until I fall asleep is totally normal.
Calling, hanging up, calling, hanging up.
Just part of my nightly mantra.
Having no one answer is routine.
I am an independent person.
No one else controls my thoughts or actions.
Just because the music I listen to,
the way I look at the world,
the way I talk to people,
is similar to someone else
(or a little more than similar)
doesn't mean that I can't think for myself.
It's my life.
Even if I pick out
my clothes and how I wear my make-up
just to get the attention of a specific person.
I make my own decisions.
Love is just the brain tricking man into reproduction.
No, I don't need anyone,
but my body is trying really hard
to convince me otherwise.

Just say it.

You must really not like me.
No, it's definitely hate.
For you to try so hard to pretend I'm not there,
to completely erase me from your realm of reference.
There must be something stopping you
from remembering that I, too, am a person.
I, too, feel pain and happiness and love and sadness.
We're actually very much alike.
But you refuse to see that, because you refuse to see me.
Somehow, though, I envy you.
Don't ask me how, because it's completely illogical
to be jealous of someone who hurt me as bad as you did.
Still, I do.
I envy your ability to forget
because so many times I've wanted to pretend we never happened.
I wanted to tell myself that I had no idea who you were.
I wanted to forget everything you told me,
everything you gave me,
every kiss,
every hug,
every kind word,
every promise.
At this point, I wish you never looked my way.
I wish we had just ended as partners that one time,
then gone our completely separate directions.
I've played the what-if game too many times.
Nothing is going away.
You really must hate me,
if you can convince yourself that I never mattered.
Once I can tell myself that I never cared,
I will be stronger than you and you will envy me for once.
But I couldn't...
Because I know I'd be lying.

Story time!

Girl saw Boy.
Boy steals Girl's heart away.
Girl gives Boy everything.
Boy throws Girl's heart
to the ground.
Jump.
Squish.
Stomp.
Dead.


...Yeah, I've been meaning to get that one out there for a while now. Something tells me that I should post more than poems every once in a while. So here goes nothing:
I'm stressing. A lot. I want to throw up...pretty much all the time. No, contrary to popular belief, not on purpose. Sometimes my tummy just decides that it needs attention. And it's a bitch.
But today was half decent. I'm convinced I don't completely suck at life.
"And so it goes, and so it goes. And you're the only one who knows."
Ahhh, yes, good times with that song.
...I think that's pretty much all I got...I'm not very good at this game.
Just keep smiling.

Memoirs of a Single Mom (Part 2)

Pitter pat, pitter pat,
little feet in the hallway,
dragging the little green blanket behind them.
The one with the embroidered teddy bear
that he got for his last birthday.
He peeks from around the corner,
thinking I don't see him.
As if I didn't hear him
get out of bed in the first place.
Another flash of blonde hair
and a single chocolate brown eye.
I smile to myself
and prepare for the game to come.
He thinks he's so sly, so slick.
Naive two year old logic,
and still so cute.
Giggles coming from the corner.
Pitter pat, pitter pat,
little feet from the hallway.
I turn and scoop the boy up,
the one running at my legs.
My little boy.
Screams of laughter from
that tiny, toothy smile.
Flip him over and hold him tight.
Raspberries on his bare stomach
make him kick and squirm
and laugh and shriek, louder and louder.
And I laugh, too.
Because it's funny for me to realize that
I can hold my world in my arms
again.

Losses.

Not sure what to believe.
Lost hope in pretty much everything.
You said You would help.
I remember what they always told me:
"He listens, and if you pray, He will show you the way."
Well, I prayed.
Now what?
Doubt.
In pretty much everything.
What's left here for me?
They're always telling me:
"We're here for you. You still have us."
Thank you, but there's nothing you can do.
My fate rests in the hands of one person
that won't look my way.

All you need is a great big congratulations.

Congrats.
You've moved on.
You can brush past me like I'm not there.
You can pretend you don't see me
when you're new ho hooks around your neck
just to mark her territory.
Congrats.
You have new friends.
You have new people to hurt.
You have more people to turn against you
when they decide they don't like the "new you"
and you end up alone again.
Congrats.
You're back to square one.
And maybe when the dust clears,
you'll see my silhouette getting smaller over the horizon
close enough for you to reach out and pull back.
But will you?

To the one that cried for me, not with me.

You gave me your bed,
so I could lay down and ask myself what I did wrong.
You gave me your hand,
to squeeze tight when I wanted to scream.
You gave me your shoulder,
for all the times I couldn't hold it in anymore.
You gave me your stash of make-it-all-better snacks,
when I felt sick to my stomach but needed to eat my feelings.
You gave me your time,
when someone couldn't spare the time of day.
You gave me my confidence back,
even when I didn't (and still don't) believe that I am beautiful.
You gave me my reality,
showing me the good I had left when my world collapsed.
You gave me strength,
even when I just wanted to drop and weep into darkness.
You gave me a good slap in the face,
when even I knew I was being irrational.
You gave me a support system,
for all the times I needed someone to hold me up.
You gave me hope
that there was always tomorrow.
You gave me a friend,
when my so-called best friend disappeared.
You gave me a sister,
but one who couldn't judge me and tell me to stop whining cuz she can't live with it.
But above all, you gave me myself
when I thought someone walked away with everything I was
and left nothing but a shadow of me behind.
You gave me the colors to be me again.
And for that, I am proud to say: I love you, soul sista. :')

Shout out to my girl! You know who you are ;)

Big thank you to biology class for this one

Let's see, how angry/angsty/emo do I feel like being today...hmm...got it! Make way for the swearing and whatnot:

Clear me out and push me aside
to make way for every other bitch
that may so decide to befriend the asshole you've become.
You're just so impressive, aren't you?
So many talents,
so many friends,
so many goddamned interests,
so many things that just aren't you.
I really, sincerely hope you enjoy hell
or whatever "life" comes to you
when the next broken heart carries out exactly what I want to do
every time I look your way.
Or even better,
the emptiness that follows when you become the victim.
To be honest,
no one gives a shit about what you do.
They're just scared of you is all.

Why the fuck do I want you back?
You're an ass, you broke my heart,
and I know it,
so could you kindly just shut the hell up?
And get away from here, anywhere, everywhere.
No one wants you around, really,
except, apparently, stupid me that enjoys the abuse
and heartache.

But go back to the September you.
You remember.
You couldn't forget.
That's when I made you.


No, this is SOOOOOOOOO not about anyone in particular...or is it?

What to do with the remnants of a dead relationship:

A) Burn everything. Clear it and erase it from your memory. And bask in the glow and warmth of pure freedom.
B) Store everything away. Out of sight, out of mind. Then come across it in the future and:
       I) Laugh at how stupid you were.
       II) Cry like he just broke your heart. Try desperately to get in contact with him to beg for him back...again.
C) Keep going as normal. Force yourself to look at everything that reminds you of him until eventually, it doesn't hurt as much anymore.
D) Deny it. Tell yourself, "We're still together. He just needs some space, some time to himself. He wouldn't leave me. That girl over there that he's holding hands with? Hugging? Kissing? Texting, calling, telling her he loves her? Doing everything we did...no, wait, do? Yeah, she's just a friend." Because you know he'll come around. Really. He always does...right?

Memoirs of a Single Mom (Part 1)

Constantly whining, always crying.
Oh, God, please make it stop.
Quiet him down just for a minute.
Send me peace.
No, I want this.
He was my choice, and I will be strong.
I will take the challenge and succeed.
We knew what we wanted him to be,
and he will be more than either of us imagined.
I alone will make it happen.

A favor of you, if you will.

Mind if I borrow something?
Not even something you need to give me.
Just something for me to use
for a minute or two.
You were there with me once.
Don't you remember?
And all those times,
those stories you told me about.
Just a minute or two is all I need.
You could at least spare me that,
after everything you’ve put me through.
No big deal, really.
Everything's fine.
And it'll be quick.
Easy.
Through your room,
out the other door,
to the left of your dresser.
Over the rail.
Falling,
falling.
Contact.
Nothing serious.
And no,
don't bother thinking of me
every time you go out there.
Pretend it never happened.
That shouldn't be too hard.
Not for you
who has a heart of stone.
That is,
if there's one there at all.
No, play pretend like you used to with me.
Make believe I wasn't there.
Tell yourself there was nothing you could do,
that nothing was your fault.
Pretend you never saw it,
like you did with me,
which made me ask this favor of you.
So please,
can I borrow something?
Just for a minute or two.
This one final request
that would get me away from you for good.
After all,
isn't that what you wanted
from the start?

Intro

So. New blog. Good stuff. I'm sure I have a lot to say, but it may take me a lil' bitta time to think of something. Huzzah.