he loves me not, and im too tired to care.

i dropped my own heart
after he gave it back, 
and it broke into a million rose petals 
turns out this time he loves me not.

help me save myself.

most the time when i think
i speak too quickly
even though its in my head,
i had to get it off my chest.

cause if i don't i wont be able to breath.

im stuck in these walls,
im running out of words to say
and its getting hard to breath.

im getting lonely again.

and im stuck.

with no words to write,
or anything to say,
a heart skipping a beat,
and running out of air to breath.

i need to break these walls

someone help me get something off my chest.

someone save me.

help me save me.

help me.

A Little Death // The Neighbourhood

epilogue to the suffering

high school

we deserve an epilogue for our dead souls.
i think we've suffered enough.

im a
B plus average.
average looking girl
blonde hair, brown eyes
nothing special
except for long legs
and the way my eyes speak
in ways you cannot teach.

this is to the girl
so popular she cant even think for herself.
self esteem so low you cant even feel it in her fingertips.
i wish you the best. and i hope you learn to love yourself.

to the girls surrounding her
acting like puppets with kites tied to their wrists.
searching for their souls but the wind is blowing them the wrong way.
you are more than what others think of you.

this is to the boy i first loved
thank you for teaching me to love the rain,
and thank you for showing me that your only
redeeming quality was that i deserve better.
and you deserve better too.

to the boy who loves Mary Jane,
and would do anything for the women he loves.
a romeo and juliet type of love.
except for she's not real, and he's killing himself slowly before she even bats an eye.
i hope you find the real her one day.

to the girl waist deep in self doubt.
mixed with antidepressants, and sadness you can see from a mile away.
you're so beautiful. your disorder does not define you.

to the boy who doesn't believe in god because science makes more sense.
i pray for you every day.
because my brother sat in jail screaming for god to help him.
i saw the man he grew to be because my god loves him
and theres no formula for love.

this is for the hardest time of our lives
broken pencils, broken hearts
beautiful people, and beautiful souls.

im here to remind you that
we made it.

class of 2016

the ones who sit by the knight
the ones who eat in the library
to the ones so ready to leave they cant even take a moment to let it all in.
and to the ones suffering

we made it.

four months

sixteen days.

and these floors will be nothing but memories
and we will never have these days back.

paris will be nothing but a figure of speech,
and i will forever be missing home.

to highschool.

you have been the best 
and the worst days of my life.
i'm still trying to figure out how that is.

i wrote this for you

i think back to the days
when i had it all planned out.

seventeen and still believe in fairy tails,
but i don't think i can afford to stop believing.

we were going to be like the movies,
i knew it.

thinking back to the late late nights
and you holding my hand.

arguing about everything
but agreeing on our love.

the night you hand stitched my heart
back together, and signed your signature
for everyone to see.

your mom wanted us to get married.
and i cried when you told me marriage wasn't for you.

his hand in mine,
i thought of how hard it would be when i had to let go.

you stopped looking at me the same,
the days got colder, and it was harder for me to breath.

my stitches ripped open, and the glass from my heart
tore open my insides.

your name still on my heart,
i covered with a bandaid

the night my hand was empty,
a fake smile on my face,
a suit and tie
all under the stars in a nice dress.
was the night you gave your hand to someone else.

after that,
missing you was like, the ache in your bones
when it starts to get cold
and days when you're so tired you cant sleep.

i forgot what your voice sounded like

and wished i had someone to argue with.

i think about our movie that was about us,
when we were the kings and queens

i saw you one day,
you still looked like a king

and sounded like a dream
i forgot i had, had.

and i think back to the days,
when i had it all planned out.

i miss you.
and us.

when we were young // adele

two sizes too small, or one size too big

i think at this point you should be angry,

so so angry.

but you aren't

maybe because you have a heart 

one size too big.

why aren't you angry?

you watched your father walk out the

door when you were far to young,

but understood that, that is what 

made them happy.

you should be so angry,

that at the age of seventeen your sister would 

be high and crying in her bed to try and take away 

the pain of being with her deadbeat boyfriend.

and so so angry, 

that a boy would leave your

sister to raise a child on her own.

you should be angry 

at the boy who shattered your heart

for no apparent reason but you forgave him, 

even though you still have nightmares of him

every now and then.

or at the fact that you tried to

change yourself for the world to like you.

because they say you are too difficult to love.

you tried to become 

more delicate,

speak less,

and be softer.

hands laced with memories,

a heart laced with stained glass, 

almost too thick to crack.

and maybe a heart two sizes too small.

you should be so so angry.

but you aren't. 

you're just sad, 

with a heart one size too small.

or maybe two sizes too big.

(not mine.)

-stacia maxson