Me too.

The ending happens suddenly

Awakened from the blackout

He leaves and you are left—

Wondering, blaming, maybe even waiting

And him?

Still drunk off the night’s conquest

High fived from his boys for tapping that mess

Surrounded by crowds

While you’re left all alone

Looks of pity or a solid scold

He won.

It’s done.

There’s no use in speaking.

He will move on.

There will be another beginning.


Catch Up

My love for you will still remain,

Even though it causes so much pain.

It doesn’t die as easily,

Despite how badly we try to kill it.

Putting poison in my viens,

I want you out of my head.

The hardest thing is–

Blackouts were something we shared.

So falling into that despair

Is stained with you.

How do I get away?

Such a fucking shame…

You hurt when you see me?

I hurt. Always.

It’s not a new feeling for me.

This has been manifesting.

Since I first laid eyes on you–

Confusion and contemplation.

You can be mad. Be fucking mad.

I’ve been mad,

So it’s about fucking time you caught up.

Change of heart

I can’t even write about you. That’s when you know it’s bad. When the story I’ve been working on for years, suddenly seems like trash because it’s written about you.

You and your inconsiderate heart, me and my vulnerable soul.

That’s what this story seems to be about.

But, I can’t keep playing the victim. I chose to be broken by you. I searched for someone like you, to release all of the demons I had hiding so deeply within me.

So, I feel like this story may have changed its purpose in my life. No longer am I romanticizing you and our crazy, reckless, inconsistent love. It is a story of a girl and boy who broke each other and could never be the same again.

Please don’t be a season

Please don’t be a season.

Don’t be a fallen leaf in Autumn that slowly dies as it hits the pavement.

Don’t be the touch of snow on skin that quickly melts away in Winter.

Don’t be the rainbow after rain, hiding behind clouds of grey in Spring.

Don’t be warm beach days, fresh green grass and bright sunny rays that pass by as quickly as time does in the Summer.

You’re not allowed to come in and out of my life like the weather.

I want you for years to come.

I want you like the comfort of sitting down after every long day, knowing it’s a luxury whether on the floor or a coushioned chair.

I want you like the tattoo on the bottom of my neck, wearing out from too much sun exposure, but always holding meaning within my skin.

I want you like the memories written in books passed down for generations– causing stories to be diluted, but still partaking in history.

I want you like all of my body, maybe growing weaker as I get older, but always remaining, always trying, still working after so much vulnerability.

You are not just a season to me, you are a year. A year full of life, memories, sunshine, rainy days, snow fall and golden brown leaves on the ground.

Please don’t just be another season.


I crave you. Around me, inside me, all over me. If I were to see you, it’d be all over for me. All over like the clothes we would tear off of one another and throw onto the floor.

You can take me. I’d gladly let you. It feels good to lose control to someone like you. Dark, reckless, angry and insensitive. Because I don’t need someone to care about me. I don’t need to be caressed and held dearly like a small kitten.

I’m not small or weak or fragile. I admire those who tip toe around me as if I am. I see pity in their eyes. I see constant worry as if my bones will shatter with the slightest flick on the wrist. They somehow see innocence, as if fawning over a newborn before being introduced to sin.

Maybe I like the darkness I see in you, because I feel it thriving inside myself and it’s desperate to take over. Then those other eyes watch me. Don’t lose your kindness. Don’t lose your soft, gentle touch— when all I want to do is tightly grip the strands of hair on your head to pull you closer.

Right now I’m not thinking about love. Love is innocent. Love is beautiful. Love is balanced. It’s a mutual feeling between two individuals that develops to comfort, respect and loyalty. I don’t want that.

What I feel so desperate for is passion. The most passion I’ve felt was during times of darkness. Maybe that’s my problem. My greatest, most heavy weighted feelings have been initiated by moments of running from cops, kissing taken men, tasting blood as it dropped down from a broken nose and sneaking back into my bedroom’s window only to spot my mother standing at the door way.

I was reckless and I loved it. I see that in others and it’s as if I can feel my own pupils dilate. The blackness of them expanding greater to spread over the light blue in my eyes.

I see it in you. That’s why I crave your lips on mine. I want to remember what that feels like. I want to remember what it feels like to not give a shit. I want to remember what it feels like to be seen as raw, brutal, bad and threatening. The same way I saw you when looking into those empty eyes.

Why is it that the bad is so damn inticing? Maybe some of us just have a more difficult time escaping it than others. All I know is this–people like you make it hard for me.


Learning To Say No

As a young girl, I was quiet and needy. I never really asked for what I wanted from others, so I would simply take whatever I was given and accepted that. I think this can be the same for other girls and women. Many of us were raised in a way where obedience is rewarded and acting out or “unladylike” is frowned upon. Princesses were always so passive, laying down on their beds as they awaited a prince to come. Little did we know that not every man that comes into our bedrooms are princes, nor do they desire a happily ever after.

We don’t know this, so it’s easy to get caught up in the desire for a prince and accept whoever it is that comes our way. As long as they’re fairly attractive and have a good head on their shoulders, why not give them an opportunity? Although, I’ve come to realize that many of these men want one thing and one thing only. They want a sexual relationship. They want to get in your pants. They want you laying in a bed, awaiting them. I guess you can’t really blame them. If girls constantly allow them to do this, then whats stopping them from continuing to pursue? If they keep getting the answer “yes” than how will they ever know otherwise?

I think it’s up to us women to show a man what it’s like to wait. When I’ve told a man no, he suddenly praised me and acted as if I was a rare being. You know how weird that made me feel? Is that really so rare to find? Maybe it was his choice in women, but still. I fail to understand how so many women can just say yes right away, giving into the desire to give a man what he needs. Honestly, I haven’t found much satisfaction in the couple of hookups I’ve had in my life. The only time I felt purely satisfied while having sex was with someone I loved. It was passionate, mind blowing, chaotic, beautiful sex that I will never forget. One time hook ups don’t even compare and that’s why I’ve decided they are unnecessary in my life. I can’t see how it could pleasure me.

It’s not that I think all women should feel the same way, but I just want to understand how someone can feel otherwise? Is it really that fun to wake up in your bed with a stranger next to you? After giving them your body to do as they please and than leave soon after, never to talk again? I just don’t get it.

I’m in love with deep conversations, not how deep you can fit in me. I’m in love with dinner dates, not “Netflix and chilling”. I’m in love with how you can carry yourself in a public setting, not how smoothly you can seduce a woman privately. At least, that’s how I feel at the beginning of a relationship. The latter is so much more enticing when you’ve already developed that strong bond.

I’m tired of saying “no”, but that doesn’t mean I’ll change my mind. I’ll simply find a partner who will ask me once and simply drop it afterwards, or maybe one that doesn’t even ask at all. At least, not until the time is right. This hook up culture just isn’t for me. I’m over it.