Like a note caught passed in class,

I thought our love could never pass,

Playground once full of secrets,

Now baren and empty,

Our love was caught in the middle,

Slowly drained,

Slowly torn,

Until you moved away,

And our hearts moved too.

Back to this spot,

Where I once stood,

Watching you drive away,

I show my child the handprints,

We made in your pavement,

On a hot sunny day,

Mother, she asks,

Catching me in the act,

Of slowly wiping away my tears,

Someone is coming,

I look at her,

Curious,

But she is looking up and the street,

So I turn my head too,

Standing their is man,

A cheeky grin,

Like the one I once knew,

Hair flopping over his face,

I brushed it behind your ear once,

You walked forward,

And at once my heart clenched,

I knew it was you,

Even though you had left,

But torn hearts always have a scar,

And mine was permanent.

paper scraps

in a metal trashcan

bitter song lyrics

and

beginnings of poems

no one will ever read

secrets piled underneath

old math worksheets

and

empty pens

fragments of words

that belong to a

dying heart

I look in the mirror and I am torn as to who I should acknowledge. Do I acknowledge the past me, and if so, which past self do I choose?

What parts of ourselves change and why? And above all, do we accept and move forward after having done unspeakable things?

My puffy face poses no answers to my endless questions.

Am I the girl who dropped out of college and ended up in a mental hospital?

No, let me rephrase: I AM the girl who dropped out of college and ended up in a mental hospital.

When we lose sight of ourselves, do we lose everything we had previously stood for, and then, what do we stand for?

I wonder if we change in linear ways, or if our personalities are like tacs on a bulletin board, with pins connecting each thought, belief, and trait in random, criss-crossed ways.

I am torn between being the girl who is self-aware and the girl who is comfortable being who she is.

I thought recently about a date I had a couple years ago, where the guy told me: you're not vacant like the other girls.

And then he proceeded to try to take advantage of me.

What, in these moments, do we choose to believe? Am I not vacant? Or was that a line?

I am torn as whether to look in the mirror and file my thoughts away into mental oblivion, or to see instead a good piece of writing that deserves a closer read.

I have a torn up brain right now. Sometimes she's right. Sometimes she's crazy. Dad took her to see the shrink. Mom says the guy's an ass, what does he know?, he doesn't understand anything, she is never going back there.

The Scott kid down the street, him and his dad found a baby bird. They are helping it. Me and Jorge were looking at it. Mom found out.

Don't you DARE go near that thing! That thing could have ALL KINDS OF DISEASES! Birds have DIS-EASE! That kid's dad is an ass. What an ass he is. Don't you two DARE go down there anymore, you hear her?!

Dad's an ass for ever CONSIDERING that man to be a doctor. What was Dad thinking? Seriously. She means seriously.

Dad says he's innocent. He says he's innocent, man. Mom still keeps on going. Dad says he's innocence drifting. He's just innocence drifting, man.

Mom says what did he just say?

Dad says, What?

Burt, what did you just say?

He just looks around.

Innocence DRIFTING?? Only an ASS would say that, you know that?

Dad's eyes just sit there. My eyes just sit there. Jorge's eyes, too.

Then she does the snort laugh, then again. And again and again. It means it's okay. Now she keeps on going, now she keeps on saying it. Dad goes and stands and smiles with her because he likes it, we all do, we like it when she's like this. You gotta soak it up, before it goes away.

Way to go, Dad. Now's a good time.

We ask if we can go see the bird.

Uh-uh. No way! Not a chance, you guys! Don't you guys get it? They're gonna get SICK down there, touching that thing! Let THEM get sick. Not you guys.

Dad goes out the door.

We promise we'll wash our hands. We won't even touch it. We won't even look at it.

No way. Uh-uh.

The baby bird is innocent. He didn't DO anything!

You don have to do anything to get a disease. Don't you guys KNOW that??

We say what disease??

Oh, come on. Come on, you two, let's go eat. What've you guys had for lunch? Are you guys hungry?

Now I'm all torn of a different thing. Does she even care about lunch, is it about us kids, or is it just about the bird still? Is she just trying to trick us?

Even then, we were hungry, we just go have lunch now. Hurry, while she's nice still.

i am torn,

i used to be strong,

but you made me "weak",

i hate it, i hate it, i hate it,

you make me smile,

you make me feel things,

sometimes you even make me cry,

'cause the thought of losing you is like the thought of death itself,

i want to give up, i want to leave you in the past,

prevent the risk of our love drying out,

prevent time from doing its deed,

then it'll hurt less,

when you go with the wind,

i don't know how to go on,

we were strangers once, but i never want to go back to a time where i don't know your touch after a long day,

your laugh echoing in my ears,

the way your lips felt on mine,

i'm scared,

you make me terrified of not knowing,

if i move forward, will i end up alone?

if i leave now will i prevent a catastrophe?

or do we have something real?

i know i worry,

i know you care,

but you could still leave,

-what am i to do?

Wripped in two

that's how I feel.

Between this love

and that.

My family

My love

My friends

My work

My writing

I'm torn.