10 more days until
my chest is filled with clouds
and my feet are heavy with
the weight of 7 years

240 hours until
the shouting of my friends feels
unnecessary and wrong
how can you joke on a day like this?

14400 minutes until
i bury myself in my room
***** clothes piling into the hall
used tissues overflowing my trashcan
tear tracks staining my cheeks

864000 seconds until
i look to the sky
and hope
but never receive

Her body was fragile, her body was thin
Little did we know; she threw up in the bin.
It was all in her mind “pretty girls don’t eat”
And models themselves are always petite.
But there’s always a secret, a secret behind
The reason why these girls declined
The food they were offered and the drinks they were poured
And the high calories dishes were always ignored.
Dieting and pills became the norm
And the media portrayed it as a new art form.
But this “new art form” was a dangerous entity
And no one knew its true severity
Of this illness that gets in your head
And the sinister voices that want you dead.
But you listen to them as they’re your only friend,
The ones that will be there to the very last end.

Before you fall in love with a suicidal girl
Don't.
Suicide can not be romanticized and though she might idolize you
Remember that you may not be enough.
Remember that this world may never be enough.
Demons don't just go away, sometimes they just hide in the shadows.
And even at the highest noon they are there. Just smaller. The sun will go down.
She will always have shadows.
Remember that no matter what you do
You are irrelevant in her master plan.
She will plan out her letters in your arms.
When she is silent hold her. Make her know that she is loved, it may not be enough but those few moments in your arms might make her think twice.
But don't assume for one second you will be her savior.
When you see cuts on her wrists do not beg her to stop.
She won't.
She will cut deeper for letting you see her weak.
She will try to be strong.
She will put on a show for you. She will make you forget she was ever depressed.
Remember that sunsets can make you forget that night is bound to follow.
Know that night will follow.
When you get her final love letter to you
Ignore the fact that it is stained in blood.
Do not pour your precious time.into wondering if she suffered.
She will write her apologies in her best handwriting.
Do not read it.
Get in your car and drive.
Drive to the nearest bar and read the letter through hazy bloodshot eyes.
Do not blame yourself.
Do not look for moments you could have done something different.
It'll drive you crazy.
Before you fall in love with a suicidal girl.
Don't.

“I have my mother’s mouth and my father’s eyes;
on my face they are
still together.”

-Warsan Shire

Her lips taste like gold
And I smell lilacs on the wind
As a breeze brushes back her hair
She looks me in the eye
And traces a finger down my cheek
And along my jawline
Just to pull gently on my chin hair
She wraps her hands around my face
And pulls me in for a long kiss
No words need to be said
We were speaking with our souls
And I knew there was a reason for everything
In that moment

We are critical.

We find flaws in
everything we see
because nobody
wants to write
about perfection,
even though sometimes
we wish we could just stay
staring into that
unblemished surface.

2. We are never satisfied.

We live our lives upon
mountains of
scrunched up
bits of refill and
ideas we gave up
trying to
express.

3. We never forget.

We write words about
eye contact made
three months ago
that we replay over
and over in our minds
even though it
stopped
being relevant.

4. We are fickle.**

Our emotions flash
from one
to the other
like strobe lighting that
disorientates us
until we feel as if
the world
will never be still.

5. We are exposed.

We don't know how
to keep our feelings
to ourselves so
we'll write them
down for
you to find
'accidentally'.

6. We are vulnerable.

We wear our
hearts on our sleeves
and won't lift a
muscle to fight back
if somebody tries
to break it
because we thrive
from the pain.

7. We will never stop.

We will never stop
feeling and
we will never stop
hurting,
we will never stop
breaking and
bleeding and
loving
even though the cycle
is endless
and we know what's
coming next.


We are addicted
to agony,
but we agonise
for the art.

She must've gotten tired
of slicing her wrists with razors
And setting fire to her skin
So she burned herself on lovers
And cut herself on friends