If you would only..

I don't believe that i need to put a descripion of my poem here- i think that poetry speaks in a way where you either understand it... or you don't. And both are okay.

It hurts.

There is a hole in my stomach as big as god and it hurts.

It’s worse than never knowing.

Because I know that it will never be.

Not again.

 

And all I would like is to skate over you and turn all of the few freckles on your body into constellations so that they spell out my name.

I’d like to learn how not to fall.

Or how to be a different kind of beautiful.

And maybe then you would kiss me- pull me under- charcoal coat against truth and light blue button up.

 

Or not.

I could fall apart.

Now. Again. Forever.

Brush the edges of the stars as I fall because all I need is something to hold onto before I go.

 

And I can feel it.

Deep down in a hollow place in my heart.

I want to feel the elusive silkiness of it between my fingertips.

 Pull it out of me in handfuls.

It can become more than I was ever going to be

 

Replace my very existence.

Like the bumps and slits over my wrists

Hiding.

Underneath too many coats.

 

 

Like the way I wish on every small miracle.

Push the big ones aside.

Like the way your arms had once been sure of me.

 

 

And I always liked the way you knew you might not reach the stars.

That the moon was enough.

More than enough.

And I was enough.

Always.

 

And it’s the way that I can feel my pulse beating in collarbone or my stomach.

How all the small things are the only ones that matter anymore.

 

Because if it cannot be so-

If my jaw cannot drop at every small miracle-

Then I cannot live like this.

 

It is then that I will dig in with my razor or my fingernails.

Because all I can think of doing is shredding my notebooks of poetry.

Trying to fathom the stars.

 

Because no matter how many times they tell me not to let my words define me-

That if it doesn’t break my heart it, it isn’t love-

That we just really got to fall in love with the things that aren’t fucked-

It is then that my heart falls empty from my chest.

 

And I know exactly what it is that I am writing.

But I am learning secrets like shooting stars-

Too many.

Spending too much time wishing that I were innocent.

Or wishing that I were dead.

 

For we are all just too damn busy living.

 

 

And I just want to surrender to it all.

Wake up in your arms.

Like butterflies. Or sugar-coated grapefruit.

 

And I never wanted to break your heart.

But I never wanted this.

Trying to fix all my problems with ductape or kissing.

But I’m only losing my mind.

 

I want to be bewildered and beautiful all at once.

I’m asking for what it all brings.

I’m asking for a voice.

Because I have never had one.

 

I am finally out of poetry.

Author's Note

Thoughts- please.
Also, i realize that not everybody will want to read this or think it's just the thoughts a teenage girl.