On my good days I pride myself in being good
A good writer
A good singer
A good dancer
A good pianist
A good painter
A good baker

On my good days I like to think I'm a good person
A good citizen
A good neighbor
A good student
A good classmate
A good teacher
A good daughter
A good sister
A good friend
On my good days I'm good enough, aren't I?

But on my bad days, I strip myself away from good things
Without my hobbies
Without my grades
Without my family
Without my friends
What is there left to be good at?
Without validation
Without reassurance
Without comfort
What am I good for?
I'm left alone with myself

On my good days I'm a good person
I'm thoughtful
I'm kind
I'm intelligent
I'm helpful
But I'll never be happy with that
Until I'm good for something bigger
Until I'm good enough to live with myself

is it fair
for me to reach
for something i'll never be able touch

you.
i'm talking about you

i want the storm to dissolve me
i want to melt into a puddle on the broken concrete
i want ripples to fall on my surface
i want to tremble when cars drive by
people to step in me without a care
children to splash
and dogs to drink
i want to be a puddle on a winter afternoon
i want the raindrops to expand me
until i trickle down the sidewalk
through that cracks in the pavement
and down the curb
i want to fall onto the street
and let the wind push me far, far away

air bubbles float with ocean foam
each time my breath escapes

my lungs deflate
my vision shakes

body sinking
suffocating

i try to survive off of air bubbles
because it's all i have left

Marks on my skin hold your bruises that ache when I stroke them, they ache of your hands which once touched me, your lips which once kissed me, the feeling I still remember yet have tried to forget. Your words and now empty promises echo in my mind, empty now but ever so full that night.