5am things

hi, what’s your name, who do you love, do you think the world is ending? i do. i like the idea of dying my hair pink, i know ten different ways to overdose, my friends say i have a pretty smile but don’t always like my face in pictures. hi, my friend said she wanted to make herself throw up her food last night. hi, i know a girl who went to Europe over the summer and all her friends were jealous but she spent the entire summer trying to relearn how to eat. and i wonder if i could learn that too. hi, my friend got drunk and decided she was sad and so she took some pills so she could become happy. i see her two weeks later in geometry. spoiler alert she isn’t happy. hi, i like the idea of fried chicken picnics but my boyfriend says that he won’t stand for animal cruelty. (He’s a vegetarian.) but somehow he is okay with human cruelty because my skirt is always too short and my shirts are always too baggy and I’m just always too faulty for a boy who writes letters to the state about providing more support in the school system. (too bad he can never support me when i say i like how i can make clothes that make girls feel beautiful.) hi, my mom said it’s just a stage to feel sad and that if I only give it two weeks, it will go away. the sadness didn’t but she did. hi, i think that drowning is scary but sometimes i like counting the seconds before i black out. hi, my therapist told me to write letters to everyone who left but i keep addressing the letters to myself. i left. hi, my friend’s boyfriend texted me last night. he said that she wasn’t making him happy anymore so maybe i should try. i asked him if he believed i could make him happy or if happiness was just a concept he wanted but could never achieve. he slept with jessica the next day. hi, some people say that i talk too much about feelings but i am just trying to understand. my heart is a muscle, why does it hurt. my brain is just nerve endings, why is it short circuiting . hi, i punched by hand into the wall over and over again. when it bruised, i laughed and took a polariod. is this destructive behavior or am i just a little sad. i don’t really want to die but i wouldn’t mind not waking up. hi, i am that girl who looks so pretty, my waist isn’t slim but boys like the rest of my antaomy. hi, i can’t tell what i hate more: myself or how much pink hair dye costs


the stone was no barrier

her soul couldn’t break

the tangled yearning of her heart burst free

and swooped from the windows lip

to caress the clouds in the ever width of blue

and twine about the thatch’s peak

a faux yellow to her gold

and she smiled at the ones who claimed

she had never tasted freedom before

(a witch in her own right)

i find her tender / lipstick smudged / making the illison of a soft smile / on her face / and she asks / looking out at the sea of faces / so familiar that it hurts / “will this all matter tomorrow?” / will the pounds she lost to date him / will the friends she shed / the clothes she wore / matter at all / and i lie / because i have been wondering the same thing / “yes, of course……it has to.”

on January nights i feel as if / i am suffocating / through 3 am nightmares / turn down the heat / turn down the heat / it’s too hot in this empty room / draw back the covers / draw back the covers / and then everything is fire / everyone is burning / he reaches / his touch scalding my skin / i scream / he always hurt / his love always hurt / and now i’m burned from it.

my therapist does not believe in soul mates. she says it’s bull crap. “‘they can’t die if you never stop loving them’” she scoffs. “if that was true, you wouldn’t be in therapy.” she is not my therapist anymore.

on the days my mother wakes up sad / she tucks this despair / into the pocket of her jeans / and makes bacon for breakfast / kissing my forehead tenderly / because she has taught herself / how to co exist with her sadness / and like how she raised me / she takes this sadness / and loves it like the world / has no end / she loves her sad / until there is nothing left to love / and then / she loves her happy.

all the lies i’ve loved

the 9 year old lie / was a tall red house / white shutters / straddling the corner of two small streets / with a backyard / that had a yellow slide / shaped like an Arby’s fry / and i loved this house / this you-will-not-leave-your-friends / i-promise-daddy-still-has-his-job/ lie / i believed in this lie so much / that i left my initials penciled / beneath the bathroom sink / thinking that if heartbreak was a house / it would be this two story red house / that i couldn’t call home anymore / and then there was the 12 year old lie / the girl who wrote me postcards / and gifted me diy jelwery that was always too tight / but never could look me in the eye / calling me pretty only when my brother was around / crying crocodile tears when i finally said the truth / “you only were friends with me because of him” / and i think that was the first time / i had ever truly hated my brother / because i was left constantly trying make light / in his shadow /  and i think i have a character flaw / of falling in love with train wrecks / or maybe i make them / because at fifteen i felt something / for a boy with brown eyes / who read the end of books before the beginning / a way of trying to escape the hurt / and i think i should have known then / but his smile was the most beautiful lie / i had ever seen / and as a girl who falls in love with beautiful things / i fell for this lie of a boy / this i’ll-hold-your-hand-only-when-my-friends-aren’t-around / i-forgot-that-it-was-your-birthday / i’ll-make-it-up-to-you / kind of boy / and because of all the lies i’ve loved / places i never could stay / people i wanted to / because of these lies / i find myself / fumbling when trying to tell myself the truth / “you are worth more than ________________”


she’d told me before how / she could already imagine / being the person who brought out / the dimples in his smile / and my mind told me to speak / saying that i had been that person / for him / but instead / i just pushed the heartbreak / down to the darkest pit of me / and decided not to tell her / that he has dimples when he frowns too.

what he saw me as

she was a girl \ who was like a sunset \ all bright \ bold and unapologetic \ but \ like a sunset \ her smile would fade \ leaving you to grasp \ at the reflection of stars \ in her eyes \ asking where her colors went \ to be replaced by darkness \ and \ just like a sunset \ she was never \ the same girl \ for too long \ and some mornings \ she would sit without talking \ because she didn’t believe \ she had anything worth saying \ and during some nights \ she would ask \ if what we had was real / and i think / that she is a better poet / than a girl / because she could turn / all her doubts into adjectives / instead of facing them / and she learned to twist / her handmade heartbreaks / into exquisite lines / so i almost wonder / if she breaks herself / just so she can rebuild / and write poetry.