Midnight portraits,

Driving towards my guilt.

Maroon lips,

Saturating what I built.

It's not my sickness (lies),

It's my guilty pleasure (truth).

Why did I write this,

This portrait I will

Never.

Ever.

Treasure.

In the woods lies a sturdy tree

with unwavering branches

Leaves dancing, glancing

hiding songs, in nests

Silver roots, entwined

Resilient.

holding softly, the memories

who to not cherish company, to see, to meet

once more, and again, in the woods,

Me

"I love you so much."

I was silent,

So scared.

I panicked.

I got hurt,

So maybe,

I misheard,

I hesitated,

So sorry.

"I love you too."

So much.

Everything is gone,

But snow white memories,

And silent, hushed screams.

I'm stuck.

Hiding in the bathroom,

Afraid to stand up,

Because even though I've changed,

People still judge me.

They still remind me,

Why I am so uncomfortable in my own skin.

So I'm stuck.

Here.

I'm stuck with me.

I see the A,

On the paper filled with compliments,

Single spaced,

Helvetica 14pt.

I see a symbol,

A gold star on my conscience.

I'm doing okay,

But it's just a letter.

A foreign letter,

And I want to translate it.

I want to prove to my self,

That I'm more than mentally ill.

That the 2.1 GPA

That defined my struggles,

Last time.

For the last time.

I'm a gold star.

I'm already a gold star.

Most

Often

Time

Is

Valued

After

Truly

Impeding

Our

Notions

I have a tremor,

And it’s none of your business.

Heres your damn coffee.

Have a nice day.