poems i write at 2 a.m. and decide to post

sixteen

i sighed as the red dress fell over my form.

i stepped outside and took a breath of the air.

thick, heavy, undesirable.

i could relate in a way.

i felt the chill of the wind bite.

i couldn't be asked to care.

today was the day.

if it was going to happen, i was going to look gorgeous.

i guess i could never really use the pronouns i wanted, not even for myself.

i didn't feel pain as the ice on the road nipped my bare feet.

i didn't feel sorry for myself, just tired.

i had stayed up planning and planning.

he was gone.

who was i to care

i found the nearest safe spot we used to have.

perched above a pretty lake, there i sat.

the ice covering the ground like it covered my face.

i remember it so clearly now.

horror and fascination at the feeling growing.

it haunts me.

the feeling of falling.

almost as if i

was a feather, gracefully hitting the ground.
oh yes, the ground matched my favorite color.

my dress mixed with the stains.

i gazed coldly into the sky

vision blurry, glasses mailed to his house.

no one would be there to receive it.

i loved him, would you believe it?

he was taken

and so was i

and so,

i left myself to die.

(author note, this is partially written from a different pov than mine, a little more exaggerated if you will. so take it with a grain of salt.)