How I Met Jane

This is to.This is for.

This is to every person that told me that I had a split personality.
This is to every person who told me that I was a mess.
This is for those people who told me I needed help.
This is for those people who didn’t help.
This is to the guy who said I was playing the victim.
This is to the girl who said “She doesn’t know what she wants.”
This is to the guy who used me for a bit.
This is to the girl who decided what I wanted.
This is for the people I hurt along the way with my anger.
These are for your memories, I apologize…I was young.
This is for the past for taking a bite out of my soul.
This is for my soul, not letting me rest, we wanted more.
This is to the hotel for never letting me sleep comfortable again.
This is to that boy who let me sleep comfortable again.
This is to the innocence that was stolen again and again.
This is for my lover who will make me feel again and again.
This is to the doctor who said “it’s all in your head.”
This is for the nurse who said “I believe what you said.”
This is for the school counselor who said “you can’t do it all.”
This is to my mom, who said “you can do it all.”
This is to doubt, fear, and sorrow.
This is for doubt, fear, and sorrow.
This is for every lost soul.
This is for every person who wants more.
This is for your courage, this is for your struggle.
This is for your determination, believe me, it’ll show tomorrow.
This is to every mile I ran, every tear I tasted, every thought I had, to every thought I lost.
This is for every ill remark thrown my way, every assumption that was made, and stab that was saved.
This is to me.
This is for me.

Word Vomit

Memory Serves

Memory serves nothing good.

an escape, that’s what is left behind.

but it’s all you

left in me

that he sees.

what angle can I use,

what line should I cross,

to look the other way?

time weaves us all

in the basket that can’t hold my tears.

what is left?

memory serves liars.

Sadistic, masochistic, pathetic, perfectionists that hate the reflection of themselves in others.

who to hate?

I want to create something

more than a fleeting orgasm

it’ll last till the next

and I’ll do it again to get that high

one thing I can control

and I can’t anymore

and nothing is left but the thoughts.

my eyes leave his

pray for blindness.

let me feel.

memory serves the damned.



LIfe Journey


There’s an adoration

that’s waiting to be born

I’m killing time, while we draw our lines

and hypocrisy and jealously consumes my present being

I laugh it off in his arms

and remind myself that this is good for me

and I over think all the possibilities

and reasons for his charm

I lay awake in his bed with words I wrote for you

my quiet preconceived thoughts of you

the highly anticipated, deceitful screw

and the lines get wider as time pushes them apart

I’m holding on to memories, oh I wish I was at the start

and I dial for your voice but hear her questioning mine

hypocrisy and jealously now lead me to spite

and I’ll run, and I’ll run again

my adoration already lost her moon

and I’ll run, and I’ll run

…to forget you

and we keep hiding the inevitable with old, “I love you’s”

and we keep hurting to erase one another

I scratch at every pore to scrape my imperfections

I try to seek the new

dirty fingernails hold our secrets,

hush salty lips impressed in time

if you stay, if you stay, don’t go away, if I stay, it will pay off soon