HER DEFINITION OF PERFECTION The anarchy she inherited through tragedy wants her to not care what other people think of her. Fuck other people’s minds. Fuck their judgments. Fuck their definition of right. Fuck their opinions. And so she screams and she screams at herself to stop conforming to societal norms. But the ropes around her wrists have left designs of plum and scarlet. She screams louder. She begs for freedom. The freedom to be messy. But she’s scared. And the fear has implanted metallic spikes Around her heart. And so her screams leave her mind and pass through her lips, but miss her heart and fall into the oblivion. And the cigarette between her lips tastes like candy. So she smokes some more chemicals and drinks some more nothingness until she is intoxicated with empty thoughts. She wants to be happy, but the need to be perfect entwines itself around each smile and pulls every bit into the blackness. Deeper and deeper they fall into the basement of her soul, until the feeling is lost beyond recognition.
THE FAKE SMILE I will not think of him Shattered glass Cuts of invisible scarlet. I will not think of him A world of cryptic fairy tales The bleeding mind of a sad little girl. I will not think of him Inventing inventions of his thoughts My thoughts My words in his mouth His tongue Our lips. I will not think of him - Or feelings Or the lightness in my chest he made me feel, My mind made me feel (A beautiful work of fiction). My manipulation of his ideas An obscure translation. He controls the vulnerable wreckage I’ve become - The villain of my perfectly imagined future. I am the villain. I am rejected, A rejection on his still lips. The pretty thoughts I once put in his mind Replaced by a damaged girl. For a moment he wanted me, Wanted the put-together image I pretended to be. But the heaviness seeped through the seams of my skin Fascination easily forgotten Replaceable Like nothing was ever there to begin with. Invisible in all of your clutter. Glass Hearts on Paper Strings Tangled in Leafless Tree Branches. I created our life together. But I forgot to ask him if my stories, My stories of us Interested him. A pretty fantasy coated in delusion. Two life's combined through desperation. My desperation to feel something other then Perpetual emptiness. I ignore the messy moments of us. I will not think of him. Or the him I invented to replace the boy That was actually there. The one I had to convince myself to care about. I found the real him rather unappealing. But I craved the idea of him. Or rather the idea of him craving me. I needed his acceptance in order to accept myself. I am glass – Transparent, Brittle, Frail Shatterable. His kisses left scarlet slits in my skin. A spider web of cracks from his lips. Crack Cracked Crackling Turned to dust Bleeding putrid images of my desires. I was a paper doll, changing myself To his ideal of me. I'm still not the person he wants. I will not think of him Or how I thought he could make my world less sad. I am not enough For him For any Not even me. The moment of us disappeared, I can touch the nothingness. He cut me open And decided he didn't want my disheveled insides: My ruby veins My mangled shreds of heart My entire mind My depression, All of it unappealing Sloppy and tossed in confusion. Shattered Invisible Left alone to keep the emptiness company Crumbles upon crumbles Creating piles of a human being. Ignored and then eventually discarded. I won't put myself first I should never have expected this ambiguous boy to. Mistakes mistaken as truths. Rhymes of indifference. I'm only here for your convenience. Until I'm not convenient anymore. I will not think of (him). Instead I will let my mind wander to beautiful things And the beautiful people who indulge in the sloppiness of me.