Just Stop

Tell me I was wrong,

that everything you said I was

is true.

Tell me you lied

when you took it

all back.

Tell me I am strong

enough, tell me I'm not

diseased.

Let's hear you say that you were wrong, and I was right. Stop faking this pretentious pallor of pale-skinned, pure-hearted perfection. Drop down and give me twenty reasons why I should stop caring, give me fifty reasons why I do care anyways, give me one hundred reasons why you don't care at all. I wanna see you sweat, so sweetly. You know I was right. How about you look at me, just once? We're not strangers anymore, we can't casually slide our eyes over each other, unseeing, when we pass by. We can't exchange our secret smiles because you said so. You said so, and I told you so. I'll get that tattoo on the back of my neck, 'CAUTION: This Girl's a Trainwreck'. Then they'll know, then you'll know - I never lied. I told you so from the very first moment. I don't know what I want, but I guess it's not you. You said you would stand by me, be there to catch me, but I never asked you to. You could always walk away. I told you so from the very first moment. But you're not walking away, you're dragging bloody wreckage in your wake. You're running and screaming, wailing and gnashing teeth with much swearing and tossing of dynamite. Let's grow up, shall we? I hate this immaturity. I expected more from both of us. I never said I was your heart, your life, some predetermined 'other half'. This isn't a game, but we play it like one. I played you like one - at least that's what's you think. I can only wish you knew. I can only hope you'd understand it. I wish I could taste such sweet vanilla. Earnest, sincere, fucking vanilla. All I wanted was a taste of normal. You were such as sweet. But I waste away on a flavor yet lost to me, I crave the simple perfection of something I can never have. Just a glance, just a taste? No. It's better to know nothing, not better to have licked and lost. I wish that I had never known at all. I wish that you could never know, and always remember. We're both falling, who will catch us now? Crash and burn, falter and implode. Then you'll really know. I was right all along.

Kicked in the Ribs

Yeah, it's been some time - for you five people who actually give a shit. Here you go.

And if you could only see the lurid purple that blossoms across my chest, the painful splothces that pervade my skin - their presence only a mark of how badly it hurts, how badly I hurt you. Just like the mirror you spoke of, it rebounded back, slamming my body against the wall, sliding to the floor - ragged breath, jagged breath, and not the way I care to remember it. Such a jagged gorgeous winter this will be - like that mirror, broken glass frosted over with icy breaths. So cold, such a state of mind, and they told me it was the right thing. I guess they lied. I can feel your skin, so hot, but it cannot melt this granite pride. Those fingertips just burn against my ribs, setting my flesh afire. Can you feel that? I did this to you. God, I did this to myself. This torment, this burning, aching fever touch. I thought it would hurt, but never dreamed it could be this much. This stone, this dead weight in my chest, this reason? Take the damn thing, I don't want it back. Just leave me be. Seether silent, anguish alone. I'm no martyr, bitch, not masochistic. I had my reasons, pitiful as they now seem to be. They pale before this feral ache. I know you've seen the scars, they'll never heal, but you wont see this suffering; I beseech the stars that you'll never know. Beyond power of speech - the phone lays silent as these words fill up pages. My body shakes - to the beat of my icily deadened heart, to the beat of the bass blaring into my bare soles, my bare soul. Don't look, don't you dare touch me. Numbness, take me! I can bear your fiery touch no more. Take these pills, let it wash over me. Leave me on the other shore. They said it wouldn't hurt. They lied.

Waking Up [2]

The sun hits my face like a wrecking ball. It takes a moment to open my eyes against the blindness. It takes another moment before I remember why the shade is open to begin with. It takes no time at all to feel the pain come crashing back. The sunlight mocks my sorrow. Wrecking ball. I close my eyes again - willing it all to go away - but, of course, it doesn't. It never does. I peek at the window again. Still sunny. Wrecking ball. I slam my hand down at the windowsill, landing on my phone. I claw at it, preparing to chuck it across the room, before I stop. I have a text message. I flip open the phone, the sun glares off the screen. Wrecking ball. I shift and the blanket slides farther down. It exposes my hips, and the scrappy black lace that wraps so neatly around them, to the harsh sunlight. Wrecking ball. But I flip open the phone and start to read.

It's from you.

The stupid sun seems to dim, and I can see so much more clearly. You were hurting too, you could feel that agony. The thought of you in pain makes me want to tear out at the source with teeth and claws. Angels. Shouldn't. Cry. Though I long to feel the blood of your adversaries dripping down my chin, I know that it isn't a foe we can truly face. Fate never was very kind.

Despite it all, I feel a grin slowly rip its way across my face - cracking through the tear stains of last night. I clutch your hoodie around me, the zipper has grown warm through the night. Breathe In, Exhale. No more tears. Last night is over. The sun can shine all it wants, but a new night will come. A night with a brilliant, shining moon, and angels soaring. I can be stronger than the wrecking ball. I will be stronger.

What wrecking ball?

Falling Asleep [1]

When I collapse to my bed in the darkest part of the night it is with salt stains on my face. I knew it was only gonna get worse. The longer I'm away from you, the longer I'm with you - every moment we spend together hurts me more. It's the rush of icy air from my open window that jerks me out my self-pity and back to the task at hand.

I strip off everything except the black panties I had taken such care to match earlier in the day; they had been of little use to us, what with all the interruptions, anyway. I carefully fold the jeans you gave me. I am assaulted by the memory of your enraptured face when I took them off in front of you. I pluck off my rings, one by one, hideously aware of each empty finger - and the way they had fit so comfortably between yours. I turn to my mirror. The reflected girl that stares vacantly back at me is a shock.

When did I lose weight? Why are the circles under my eyes so dark, so sunken? Why do the scars not heal?

I close my eyes, see nothing but pulsing blackness.

Why do the scars not heal?

I run my fingers across my skin, searching out the blood.

Why do the scars not heal?

I breathe in, shallow and shaking.

Why do the scars not heal?

I exhale, the softest whimper.

Why do the scars not heal?

I throw my mostly naked body to my knees, fingers scrabbling angrily at the carpet. They find something soft, much softer than the coarse floor they should be feeling. It's your hoodie. The one that you said only the special ones got to wear. I pull it on - still shaking, still gasping back a scream.

I don't feel special.

I rise from the floor, biting my lips and finding the familiar taste of my blood. I give in to the subsidence that will send my face into the cool pillows. I curl inside the soft fabric, shakily breathing your scent in the curling fibers of the sweater. The zipper is icy where it lies over my heart. Alone, I gaze out at the moonless sky.

They don't understand.

Your voice broke when you clutched me close and said, "Don't go."

They can't understand.

My heart broke when I did anyway.

They will never understand.

These nights seem so much longer now.

Why do the scars not heal?

New Moon

Her eyelashes are long. They press against the smooth lids and just brush the edge of her brow. Wide, they shimmer with unshed tears - her eyes, the ones that drive you crazier - and the fire that burnt in them is dead, dark, lifeless. Her lip doesn't tremble, her gaze stays steady as the first of those cursed drops of betrayal slide down her stress-riddled cheek. Though her face says nothing of what she feels inside, those damn tears always give her away. You aren't quite sure, but you think you caught her pink tongue flick out to taste the salty incarnation of her pain - and that seals it.

Suddenly, her chin whips up a minute degree. The sparks that danced imperceptibly under her skin blaze to life, whirling wildly in the inescapable prison of her pitifully mortal body. But you can see now, it's not a mortal soul. You can see it now, in her eyes. They roar to life faster than a pfenix birth. The deathly flare of her pain makes men cower - makes them regret every piece of scorn they inflicted on her, every word they whispered that made her feel worthless and weak. Her eyes are burning, smoldering, with more passion than those with foolish little hearts can withstand. Her deep brown eyes are emboldened with all her anger, all her hate, every cruelty, every injustice she has ever witnessed. She needs their blood more than she ever needed their love. When her lips part, gently, as if she were about to embrace a lover - with heart rushing and breath ragged - you know.

Thoughts of hatred, Twisted dreams.

When her colorless lips part, she screams.

Peaceless days, Nights of blood.

They fall.

Learning

So I learned many things a few days ago...

I learned that a locked door can be the difference between privacy and never seeing someone again. I learned that my perceptions are not always correct. I learned that my fingernails are tougher than I thought, and human flesh is a little weaker. I learned that sweat and big, bushy hair should not mix. I learned that big, bushy hair and combing fingers mix very nicely. I learned that my shorts are not as tight as they once were, and that this gaping waist is a good thing. I learned that I can't judge a man by his actions in one circumstance to equal his actions in a different circumstance. I learned that this surprise was incredibly pleasurable. I learned that a comb is entirely insufficient when trying to tame incriminating big, bushy hair. I learned that my neck seems to taste better than my lips. I learned that this does not bother me in the least. I learned that I can barely breathe or remember when I get close - my eyes glaze over and my mouth stands dry - and I sweat and shake like heroin withdrawal when I get far away. I learned that a can of 7up can do wonders to restoring memory, cognition, and the ability to walk without falling over. I learned that red cala lilies are not always necessary. I learned that there is more to being horny. I learned that the aftermath of such pursuits is draining, but far from awkward expectation. I learned that I am transparent to my friends, and that they encourage me anyway.

Most importantly, I learned that I can love all sides of a man and that it is the balance of the extremes - not the neutral ground - that makes it so.

Philosophy

He had some bright ideas, that Aristotle, I'll give him that (He wasn't bad-looking either. Extra points.), but here's mine:

I'm ready to be the girl who knows what you're thinking, but does the opposite anyway because not only will it surprise you, but you'll enjoy even more. The girl who is fearless with her body, her voice, and her thoughts. The girl who says yes to a challenge. The girl who can say no to drama, without saying no to the people she loves. The girl who spins the other way when she gets dizzy. The girl who keeps her secrets, but always tells the truth. The girl who will scheme extensively just to get a dream off the ground. I'm ready to be the girl that makes you smile even when it's killing her inside.

Are you ready for me?