Poetry - No

I've already told you,
Why won't you listen?
I just want to hold you,
But you shouldn't let me.
You're going to regret it,
Regret it if you get me.

Poetry - untitled

Who would believe that a girl this small
Could destroy so much?
Who'd believe that every good thing she finds
Collapses at her touch?

It isn't what she means to do -
She wishes it weren't that way.
She's only ever wanted to help,
To make herself of some use,
But her efforts are more pointless every day.

She's caused more destruction
Than she cares to bear.
She's tired of dealing with failure
And sick of living in despair.

She's the source of the misery
And the reason for the loss.
The only way to do any good
Is to force herself to stop.
She knows she really should
Kill the monster that's the cause.

So if it's really what you want,
You can stick around
To watch her drive herself into the ground,
To see her tear herself apart
Starting at the arms and working toward the heart.

Poetry - untitled

So there's good news:
This isn't as hard as I thought it would be.
It turns out that forgetting about
Is relatively easy.

In fact, I rather like the feeling
Of lips swollen from kissing
Someone who doesn't leave a bitter taste in my thoughts
And giving to someone
Who might actually appreciate what they got.

And it just so happens
That I might deserve it.
You had me convinced
When you decided I was worthless.
But it turns out you were wrong.
I'm not the kind of girl
That has to look for too long
To find other arms to crawl into,
If she should so choose to.

And the arms I've found,
I like them - a lot better than yours.
So I think I'll stick around
And see what else is better than it was before.

Poetry - Here

I'm waking up early
And thinking of you in your bed.
I know the door is unlocked
And the way is clear,
But I pull my covers over my head,
Because it's safer here.

Here, where a girl can cry
With no fear of anger,
And might make herself comfortable
And not be in danger.
Where a girl doesn't have to think
About the mess
Or worry about the nervous
Exposure of flesh.

Here, where a girl can close her eyes,
Where a girl can imagine you by her side
Like you used to be.
Here, where a girl isn't touched
Except in her sleep.

Here, where no one else has to bother
With a girl's shaking or tears,
Where a pillow must suffice,
Where company is limited to mirrors.
Here, where there's no one to care
Or even take notice of nightmares.

Here, where a girl has to cope
With her own problems,
Where a girl has to use all of her hope
Just to get through the night,
Where she can try to convince herself
That she's happy
Even if she isn't quite.

So I hate the snooze button
And try not to think about what you said.
I want someone to make it true,
To come and be here with me,
But I force myself to sleep instead,
And hope that the security
Is worth the misery.