I’m learning to love your music again

to make it my own.

It will always remind me of you.

The sleepless nights

and the tireless days

spent thinking of you.

Your music once filled me with joy.

But it’s yours.

Now that you’re gone,

I’m desperately trying to get that happiness back.

It’s slow going.

I still haven’t deleted my playlists meant for you.

oh how things have changed

the world doesn't stop spinning

just as you stop acknowledging that it spins

it keeps going, even as you turn your back

you take your eyes off of your life

and suddenly everyone around you has moved on

and you're still stuck in the same place

because time stubbornly moves forward

we can't rewind the clock

simply because we hate that it moves at all

we just have to never close our eyes

never stop...

i was itching to crawl out of my skin

the pulsing sting radiated across my back

there was no escape from the searing pain, no relief

feeling trapped in my own body, i simply had to push through the torment

muffling my cries, i took deeper and deeper breaths

until i could pretend it didn't hurt anymore

until i could act like everything was normal

but that lump in my throat was thick and hard

no swallowing allowed, when there are hooks in your back

when you've been set on fire and left to burn

so when i finally retreated from the gaze of unwelcome eyes

i let myself cry

amongst the pain and the terror and the hopelessness,

this was my greatest relief

I am stuck trapped and tortured with visions of you

weeks, months ago I ended things in my usual cruel cold manner

and the guilt has faded as has the longing for reconciliation

yet I still wish to hold you I still wish to stroke your skin

I still yearn for your lips on my neck and your hands on my breasts

but that is all that's left, this hazy teenaged lust

that fiery passionate all-encompassing love I held for you is gone

and now I think of other lips and other hands, not just yours

I replay the moments over the weeks, when I traced his body with my eyes

and he gave me this look as if he sees right through me

I want to run my fingers through his short hair

I writhe in my bed just thinking about it

it simultaneously feels relieving and terrible to put these feelings into words

I see you every day in my mind, I think of you often and always

but I do not love you anymore

it's quite confusing

perhaps I am simply mourning the love

that childlike giddiness I felt when we talked for hours on end

perhaps I wish to torture myself

blinded by a Shakespearean education, I long for a doomed romance

he is in love with someone else, some funny girl from years ago

he probably sees her like I see you, but he hasn't lost the love

his love rings loud and clear and loyal

and yet

here I am, clumsily articulating how alone I am

By Cinematic Quality

1. Twilight: Breaking Dawn Part 1

2. Twilight: Breaking Dawn Part 2

3. Twilight: New Moon

4. Twilight: Eclipse

5. Twilight

By How Much I Like It

1. Twilight: Breaking Dawn Part 1

2. Twilight: New Moon

3. Twilight

4. Twilight: Breaking Dawn Part 2

5. Twilight: Eclipse

By How Hot I think Robert Pattinson is

1. Twilight: Breaking Dawn Part 1

2. Twilight: Breaking Dawn Part 2

3. Twilight

4. Twilight: New Moon

5. Twilight: Eclipse

By How Much of a Douche Jacob is

1. Twilight: Eclipse

2. Twilight: Breaking Dawn Part 1

3. Twilight: New Moon

4. Twilight: Breaking Dawn Part 2 ("nessie? you nicknamed my daughter after the loch ness monster?!?!")

5. Twilight

By How Many Vampires Show Up

1. Twilight: Breaking Dawn Part 2

2. Twilight: Eclipse

3. Twilight: New Moon

4. Twilight

5. Twilight: Breaking Dawn Part 1

In Conclusion:

Everyone should watch these movies (or read the books, if you're lame) because it's an enhancing experience. They may not be the best of quality, but they're a good time. Don't you wanna have a positive viewing experience? Don't you wanna have a good time?

inaction.

it flows through my veins

my heart dutifully pumps it

spreading it from my brain

to my still fingertips

asthma.

my chest aches with every inhale

the rise and fall of my chest

is an endless battle with no winner

because the battle is simply me vs. my body

and if my body no longer wants to breathe

then who am i to fight against it?

menstruation.

soiled and stained

it leaves me bloodier than before

it leaves me moodier than before

my back aches, my pelvis aches

my head aches, my breasts ache

my heart aches

when will this torment be over?

red

it's the only color They allowed

after taking over

and "uniting" the world

and squashing the rebels.

red is the only color seen anywhere.

we learned about it in school, i think.

something about dna being too complex to control.

that didn't stop Them from taking our melanin.

crowds of people, all different shades of grey.

we look like cadavers.

i feel like a cadaver, at times.

anyway, red.

we can blush.

our eyes can become bloodshot after tears.

our noses, rosy in the cold weather.

we can bleed.

i've held onto that privilege.

the gift of red blood.

it's what keeps us together.

grey is too... lifeless but red;

red is vibrant

and versatile

and beautiful.

i used to get into fights

during the small reprieve

after school, before "recreational" time.

all the kids in my class

would meet up behind the bleachers

and just wail on each other.

rosy, dripping knuckles;

the mark of a child

growing up in this sick, twisted world.

the rite of passage

before They stopped being so lenient

with "continuous acts of rebellion"

and plant guards behind the bleachers.

it was cathartic

while it lasted.

i haven't seen red in years.

nobody feels anymore.

nobody cries

or shouts

or holds their breath

or blushes

or fights

or lives.

it's all grey.

it's all dull.

i miss it.

i can barely remember it,

but i see color every night

in my dreams.

it's not my fault,

but i feel guilty that

the new generations

don't get to experience it.

especially not since

They're developing a serum

that will take away our red.

or kill us.

They don't ever do trials first.

"We live as one.

We suffer as one

We die as one."

everyone gets their shot

at the same time.

...

the room is cold,

cold, and white.

pristine, even.

i'm scared to touch anything.

not that there's anything to touch.

we were all called in

during our "recreational" time.

i wasn't so shocked

at how fast They developed Their serum.

i'm buzzing with nerves

when the representative walks in.

face covered in that eery mask.

"To protect their identities."

to keep our abusers faceless

and powerful.

we exchange no words.

i twiddle my toes

in my shoes,

where the representative can't see me.

the representative brings out a silver tray with

one syringe,

one label-less bottle,

one band-aid.

it's over too soon.

a prick in my arm

with no warning

and a quick

covering with the band-aid.

i'm taken outside

where a waiting room

full of fellow citizens awaits me.

hundreds of rows of seats

with neat tray tables standing next to them.

on the table rests

one small knife

and one band-aid.

to check, i suppose,

if Their serum worked.

the people sitting next to me

keep their gazes forward

and distant.

i do the same.

it's quiet enough

to hear a pen drop.

i think some

hope for death.

it certainly would be

an easier escape.

better than underground

where everyone holds out ridiculous hope

that the resitance still resides.

just ten more minutes

until we'll all simultaneously

cut ourselves

and bleed for our opressors.

to see if we fit Their standard

for a colorless world.

it's over all too soon.

i take a stuttering breath.

years of this dreary existence

and i still haven't gotten used to

this feeling of dread.

shakily i take the small knife

and cut a horizontal line

on my palm.

black

life gave you lemons

you made lemonade

you poured it

on my eyes

on my wounds

on my broken heart

the juice

invaded every crevice

the pulp 

clogged my soul

the seeds

scraped my throat

and it burns, burns, burns