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Maddie Algayer Jun 2015
Because of you, my bone marrow holds more memories than I could ever manage to roll off my tongue, and my blood will always be over saturated with ecstasy that you can’t get on the streets or at that college party you wish you went to.
Maddie Algayer Jun 2015
I haven’t written in a while,
but i guess I can blame that on your smile.
Because when you suffocate me,
everything gets blurry and I can’t breathe.
So when I can barely touch a wall
because everything is spinning and I break on the fall
how the **** should I be able to touch
pen to paper and make anything other
than a disaster of what should be words
but barely come together to form the idea
of what happens when you fall in love.
Maddie Algayer Jun 2015
How long does it take to break a bad habit?

Some bad habits never go away. I don’t mean that you just learn to live with them, although you might. Biting your nails isn’t so bad compared to loving someone.

What do you do when your bad habit is a person? When they echo in your mind, when your eyes search for them when you walk into a room. And when they aren’t there, you don’t stop looking. You may not realize you are doing it, but just as if someone might bring their fingers to their mouth to bite their nails, your eyes glide over ever face, every set of feet. If they are there, you get calmer. You feel relaxed, almost comforted.

Then, you realize.

You look down. You curse yourself for even letting their name cross your mind, you try to distract yourself. You tell yourself that you don’t need them, that they are just hurting you and they don’t matter. You tell yourself that you will stop.

Someone that bites their nails might pull their hand away from their mouth, maybe put their hands in their pockets. And sure, it works. It works until you forget what you’re trying to forget. They start biting their nails again. And then, ******* it, they hate themselves.

Some people might try to accept it, and some might never overcome it. Maybe they’ll spend their entire life biting their nails. Maybe they’ll spend their entire life loving someone that isn’t good for them. But, who cares. After all, some bad habits never go away.
Maddie Algayer Jun 2015
This poem is not about happiness. It is not about the butterflies in your stomach or the stars in your head. Finding money on the ground, or being told you’re beautiful. It is NOT about loving someone until they feel as expensive as the things you could never afford. And it is CERTAINLY not about being loved until your blood acts as super glue and mends the parts of your body and mind where disaster struck, so the sunshine is permanently inside you, and the super glue doesn’t let the storm water in when it rains. This poem is not about sadness. It is not about constantly feeling like you’re breathing underwater, swallowing mouthfuls until your surrender and drown. Waking up and feeling okay for a split second, until the realization hits you like lightning and you’re the storm. Feeling your heart pulverized by the one person you trusted to even touch it. No. This is about nothing. And not the peaceful kind of nothing, where your mind is empty in the good way, in the way that you feel weightless. This is for the kids that lay in their bathtubs with their noses just above water because they have nothing to drown for, or live for. This is about staying awake all night and dreaming about how satisfyingly imperfect it would be to cry yourself to sleep, because then at least they’d be able to feel something. This is about wanted physical pain, as twisted as that sounds, because your body is so numb. When your mind is so far up in the sky, yet the fires of hell burn the lining, you dream about being knocked down into the dirt, because then you would have scrapes on your knees to show for it. This is for the kids that, when someone asks them how they are, genuinely have NO idea of what their mental state is. Unstable. Unstable yet stuck in the monotonous routine of waking up to go back to sleep. Because dreaming is better than reality, because emotion might come. Because sometimes feeling isn’t bad when you’re so used to an empty stomach and hollow bones and a mind that can hear the echoes of its own voice.

— The End —