I am not writing this
to get attention
or pity
or so people will tell me
I'm beautiful the way I am.

I am writing this
because when I post a poem about
being terrified to look at myself
because I hate what I see,
it should not be added to a collection titled
Humorous.

I am writing this
because when I sit at a lunch table
without a brown paper sack,
boys should not laugh when they ask
what, are you anorexic?

I am writing this
because when I watch Disney Channel
with my eight-year-old cousin,
I should not hear jokes
about skipping meals.

I am writing this
because when you google
anorexia is,
the first suggestion should not be
anorexia is good.

I am writing this
because our society should not
expect people to be paper thin
but judge them
for trying to get there.

I am writing this
because insecurities
are not a joke,
*no one
should be laughing.

Please.......
Stop talking
For I cannot be who you need me to be
I cannot be who you love
For I am neither wind, nor rain, nor summer sun
I cannot light your nights like a full moon and it's glittering counterparts

Please.......
Stop talking
For I cannot be what you see in me
I cannot be who you love
For I am neither Princess, nor Queen, nor damsel  in distress
I cannot save you and I do not want to be saved

Please.......
Stop talking
For I cannot be the she in your dreams
I cannot be who you love
I encompass no fancy tales of enchantment
I cannot promise an ending full of happiness; I can only promise an ending

Please.......
Stop talking
For I cannot be your fantasy
I cannot be who you love
For I am just a girl inside a woman, I am less a lady than you deserve
And despite my honest words, my heart pleads

Please.......
Don't ever cease

and i wish i knew
how to love you
back

You're killing me
With you words
With your smile
With your touch

To show someone
Paradise
And then
Deny them

I know you

I know you because I am you

I see myself in your eyes

I wish I was who you believe me to be

I wish I knew me like you know me

You trust because I have proven to be trustworthy

You believe in me because I have yet to let you down

You love because you perceive the good in me

I am not evil, but I am not perfect

Flawed and broken, am I still beautiful?

Tattered and torn the curtains sway in the wind
The old boards moan and creak, cobwebs with forgotten meals
Images of times long past, with fresh paint and loving care
How beautiful the past, way back when
Now, its pain so evident that it saddens
The old boards still retain potential for greatness
In the cracked and broken windows of the old abandoned house, I see my reflection

I only hear the chain clinking
under the endlessly spinning fan
& this continuous buzzing in my head.

I only see the light of my screen,
surrounded by the pitch of my room
& the veil of my solitude that covers me.

I only smell your memory in my mind,
of what once was really incredible
& what could have been so much greater.

I only touch myself privately,
the way you always did tenderly
& it's not nearly as good as you always did.

I only taste the abundant saline-drops
that carve deep lines down my sad face
& I know the flavor of loneliness,
remain starved for your affections.

Would you think me insane
If I were to tell you that you have set me free
That knowing you has taught me
About who I am meant to be?

Something I thought long since dead
Deep inside myself
Was awakened when you looked at me
Like there was no one else

A renewed sense of who I am
Invigorates the soul
I now believe in fairy tales
And love I do extol

It is not a passing breeze of caring
More like a hurricane-force wind
That knocks you over and lifts you up
Like you're flying from within

Two hearts connected silently
Across a million miles
Melancholy fades away
With just the memory of a smile

How can it be that circumstance
Deals such a cruel, cruel hand
To temper fated torture
Almost too much to withstand

For in a love so consuming
That it is laden in every breath
Forced to live so separately
Is a torment worse than death

For at least in death can be found Heaven
Or if we're guilty, can be found Hell
But even hell, if I am with you,
Can be called Heaven very well

Sitting all alone
at a table meant for six
I think of molecules
I think of chemical bonds
I think of the vastness of space.
I feel every atom in my body
spread out to cover
the empty table
the empty chair
the stillness and emptiness
of the trembling air.
A dull and lifeless chatter
vibrates all around
pulls me into a runaway rocking
like an ocean made of sound.
Most are unaware of
the fragility of the Universe
most cannot feel the
cosmos pull apart.
I grow anxious as the seats stay empty;
despite all my thinking
all my spreading
I still seem to sit alone.

there ain’t no ground for me to play on

and there ain’t no music to play,

anyway,

just another day

another life

another scythe

ringing in the distant fields

and that little thing you thought so fine

she was just some cheap cherry wine

and I thought myself fine sauvignon

though I did fail French a few times

but at least I didn’t get left in the distant field

to be harvested by the farmer

to be sold at the market

to be broken apart and maimed beyond measure.

those lips eating though,

they sure feel nice against ya,

they sure do someone justice when

they’re kissing all over

and massaging your broken body

but there’s no music down in the gullet

there ain’t no sound

but the deep and soulful murmurings

of the stomach,

the intestine,

the **** that will birth me once more

and again I’ll be in the water

and mix with the ocean

and become the rain and

rise

oh la la la la la la la la

rise

I’ll rise above it all

and rain down your body and my body

and all these broken, mutilated grain-bodies

and pour it all down on you

and the fields

and that little thing you left

lying in the middle of seas of wheat

she’s screaming to the sky

roaring to the rain that falls

telling me all she knew

all she loved

none about you

all of it runs

all of it resounds

making music on the ground

and singing all in the air