Kirei-19

please, don't tell me how beautiful it is that i've parted my thighs like the sea. because there is nothing pretty about the tears in last nights dinner, or the way my hands shake around silverware. i am not poetry, but a language lost --in the spaces where flesh used to occupy lies everything i needed to say, kept as the only thing i could ever bear to swallow. if you try to write sonnets about the scars on my knuckles or the arch of my ribs, i will tell you in nine syllables less that this is more than abstinence and foggy reflections. i will tell you how my little sister can carry me in her arms like a child, and how my father can hardly

there are millions of poems detailing the beauty of another’s eyes, but your eyes, my love, put all their cherry-picked words to shame. ew, that verse is disgusting. way too sappy. I’m no good at love poems. okay, hold on, let me just start over. you’re freaking excellent no. shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? thou art more lovely and more temperate wait. i can’t take credit for that. sonnets aren’t my style, and anyway, shakespeare beat me to the punch four hundred some years ago. uh, i mean, you’re funny and really cute, like i seriously love your eyes because there’s meaning in the

if I could I’d love you like those couples who grow into each other and make poetry out of body language and wear one another’s weaknesses when they get too heavy and talk about the weather without ever really meaning the weather at all; and you’d keep me from falling asleep in the ocean and I’d lie about little things, always confusing Sunday for Tuesday and you for somebody with the same face who was always afraid of me. you’d chuckle and hold me and I’d cave in to you like the hungry tide and you’d say I looked beautiful when I cried and I wouldn’t believe you but I’d cry more anyw

Keep a smile handy, along with your lipstick. Squeeze your heart to fit in a top. Walk on needles and don’t dare to trip. Taste is a luxury, calories are unforgivable. Those are the basic rules, got them all down? Pick a face now.   You’re lucky, girls come in two models - Vixen or virgin. The measures are fixed, customize the colors, But not too much. No warranty, no exchange. Remember, all women are witches. It’s still a fact, even if a letter is changed. The modern witch needs nothing but glamours. These come prepackaged - beauty in a capsule, youth in a tube. Running out? Sorry, thanks for playing, Glamours are

It took him sixty-one seconds to die. I counted. The beach was only a walk away from there, and the sun was beating down on our heads and our hats. We hid under the trees and laughed. We were in love, if that's what love meant. We hugged each other, as we walked down the burning pavement in loud flip-flops and ripped shorts. We were so close. I didn't know that that would be the last time I'd ever see him alive. I was nervous when I told him, that if we were really in love, we would be together forever. He giggled softly, and told me forever was a long time. I knew that of course. It was too good to be true, I thought. He told me not to th

Before you kill yourself, Remember just one little thing. There are places to go, Where you have never been before. How can you be sure those places are bad? There are things to see, Things you have never seen before. How can you be sure those things are ugly? There is a new tune to hear, Something you've never heard before. How can you be sure that tune is scary? There are words to be said, Things that have never been said before. How can you be sure those words are hurtful? There are dreams to be imagined, Things you have never dreamed before. How can you be sure that they are nightmares? Darling, please don't give up. Please stay st

have parents that separate when you’re in high school; a father filled with unused anger and a mother too busy to care. pretend it doesn’t hurt. let your friends treat you      like dirt;      after all, everything is your fault. listen to their problems with a fake smile all the while crying out because everything hurts and no one can see. press a knife to your skin, but be too cowardly to draw your own blood. fall in love with people who could never notice you, because you’re                just. not. good.                enough. chew on the multicolored strands of your hair.      (you can’t stop runni

Summer will always remind me of hot, sweltering nights spent drinking sangria, through the dripping fairy lights of your bedroom window. A sticky, starry sky looked back at us, the glow of the moon almost golden in the heat. Fourteen meant we weren't growing up fast enough and a liquor cabinet key seemed to hold the answer to that problem. You taught me how to drink that night. (You also showed me how beautiful it was to just hold your breath till your head spins and reality seems like it is going to fade further and further away.) - Six summers ago I met a boy who liked to tell me how much like summer I was. He was big boned and thin ski