• Dear Tyler

    by  • September 30, 2010 • 0 Comments

    Dear Tyler……..

    I want to be your everything

    I want to live in your embrace

    I want to sleep inside your dreams

    I want to see into your thoughts

    I want to hear your melody

    I want to run into your future

    I want to stay in your forever

    That’s all……

    Do You Think About Me?

    by  • September 30, 2010 • 5 Comments

    I wonder if you think about me like I think about you. I wonder if you’re crying like I’m crying. I wonder if you miss me like I miss you.

    Does your stomach get all knotted-up when you think about me? Can you feel your lip begin to quiver, the pout begin to form, the tears begin to well up?

    How stupid is it that the idea of saying goodbye to you is harder than the end of my last long-term relationship. I barely know you! And yet I know you so well.

    Do you know that until you, I never allowed myself to get that close to anyone? Ask anybody. They won’t be able to answer, because they don’t know. They don’t know most of what I told you, they don’t know how I feel, they don’t know how I think or why I hurt, much less why I cry late at night.

    Night, that’s the hardest. At night the whole world would drop away. For the first time in my life, night became when I forgot that everything was going wrong. I never spoke them, but I made so many little promises to you at night.

    Now you’re gone.

    Please come back, I don’t want you to leave me…

    Dear Razor Blade

    by  • September 30, 2010 • 0 Comments

    I see you sitting there. I see you taunting me with your sharp edge, begging to sink into my skin. To feel the feeling of blood.

    I see how bad you want to do it.

    I see you there.

    I see how I want to hold you in my hand just one more time. One more time, one more fix.

    But that will just lead to another fix and another and another. It’s just a never ending cycle with you.

    I pick you up in my hand, and wrap my fist around you. I feel the blade cut in my hand, but it doesn’t bleed. I just need to feel a pinch, it doesn’t leave a scar and doesn’t bleed.

    I see you there razor blade, I see you.

    Unwanted Unborn

    by  • September 30, 2010 • 0 Comments

    I don’t know if you guys publish crappy poems, but that’s how it seemed to come out as I was writing it. Just stumbled upon this site one day and I just needed to get some words out there. Thanks for the read at least:

    I feel so alone in this big decision
    This child-to-be is not only mine, she’s yours too
    Could I make the dreadful incision?
    I feel so selfish making a decision meant for two

    She’ll have your eyes & laugh like you
    Could you really not want her like I do?
    I wish I could read your thoughts
    Then maybe we wouldn’t have fought

    I want this child
    and I want you
    But if I can’t have both
    I’ll always choose you


    by  • September 30, 2010 • 0 Comments


    I want you, I miss you, I love you.
    Dartmouth will happen.
    I will wait for you.


    Dear B.M.

    by  • September 30, 2010 • 1 Comment

    Thanks for the wonderful night =) well before you had to have your mom pick you up since you locked your keys in your car =P

    Anyway, while we lied in bed together, naked under the covers, you brought up this story of a kid who killed himself. How this kid flipped out and killed himself, but I didn’t hear you say why. And why didn’t I hear? Because I was having flashbacks.

    I wish I could tell you, but I just can’t. I wish I could tell you what happened to me 3 years ago, but I can’t. I can’t bring myself to tell you how I attempted suicide October 30, 2007. I just can’t.

    As you finished the story, I was quiet. Thinking back to that night where I swallowed all those pills. How I woke up at 4am with a horrible stomach pain, that’s unimaginable. Thinking of how I spent a week in a psychiatric hospital because of it.

    You asked, “Are you ok?” I was quiet. You turn me around, and I give you a blank stare. You say “____ what’s wrong?”

    “Suicide is a sensitive topic for me,” I mumble.

    “____, you know you can talk to me about anything.”

    Yeah I know I can, but it’s way too soon in our relationship to tell you something THAT personal to me. I can’t tell you how I used to cut myself 3 times a week, how I was so emotionally unstable that nothing could fix me.

    I’m pretty sure you’ve seen my scars on my arm, I mean it’s like 80 degrees out, and I’m not gonna wear long sleeve. And they’re so obvious.

    But when I do tell you what happened, don’t judge. No one ever judges me on that, they can’t because they’re just in shock and disbelief.