My eyes have been looking
For weeks, months, years
For perfection –
Or at least perfection in their view.

They see me try my hardest
They see me throw away necessities
They see me fall.
They cry.

But my trials of heartache do not matter
For my efforts go unseen.
No changes –
Neither in my eyes nor in those of others.

I stare at the mirror and see eyes looking back at me –
Eyes that look like mine, but aren’t.
Eyes unrecognizable, but still, eyes.
Turquoise, cerulean, cobalt, even;
Bright, wide-eyed, and

                                         sad.

Beautiful but sad.
Sad because un-beautiful.

The eyes in the mirror are desperate;
Sighing, searching, waiting
For that one morning when they will see a change,
The change they’ve been waiting for, for oh so long.

The change that will bring all –
Happiness, love, success –
Everything my eyes see at night
When dreams become reality.

But right now, my eyes are blurry
Covered in tears
Overflowing
Because they do not like what they see.

Head against the window
Watching a single raindrop

d
  r
i
  p    
          down the glass

The wind is blowing too hard
And the raindrop

Falls
To the ground

Like a silent tear

Suddenly

You feel
A drop on your arm
And a burning sensation in your eye

'Cause you realize
It's not even
Raining outside

With fireflies, whizzing by our eyes
Lights out, moonlight
A blazing fire, a warmth in my throat
Sipping bottled stars
The bubbles and the tingles
The night is young, we say, the world is ours
You take my hand oh so softly
And there on that step
I really tasted  the stars,
Like a big ol' slice of the sun
That same tingle on your skin as mid-summer day
And I was awake and alive
Among the dark halls and the fairy lights,
Up in the cupboard far away
We created our very own, private milk way

a boy so passionate that he melted the stars like wax,
his words so powerful they wriggled underneath the asphalt pavements
and cracked their way back up again.
his voice so soothing it ran into dreams
and made its way into peoples’ minds.
his smile so breathtaking that once it was gone
you forget how to want to breathe at all.
his laugh so happy you swear bubbles of light
could burst inside of you and make your skin glow
like a thin layering of the sun, and you wouldn’t find it strange.
his love so real that it could’ve created cities, actual ones,
with houses and skyscrapers and black gum on the cracked gray sidewalk
and lost pet papers taped to the lamp posts and flickering street lights in need of repair.
he was surreal, everybody he knew he had wrapped around his entire being,
protecting him and loving him
to the maximum point of love.

all except for me.
i was held in his palm,
ready to be curled into a fist when he was angry,
ready to run through his hair when he was nervous.
ready to rub at his face when he was tired,
ready to be slammed on the surface of a table when he was outraged.
there through it all,
every single wreck of an emotion he had inside him.
it didn’t make me love him any damn less.

i miss him so much.
oh my god, i actually miss him so fucking much.
what i would give to live on his hand again. if only to fall off a second time.

Blood rushes to your head
And your face is turning red
And every word that you said

Has a double meaning
But no one can see it
And they sit in the seats

As you stand on the stage
Just performing a play
But it's real everyday
     and they just applaud
Say, "you act so damn well for your age"
And you reply “yeah I know”
But you're spitting with rage.

You stick to the script
And say thanks for coming out
And you cry on the inside
But don't make a sound
Because whenever you do
Whoever's around
Sees it as a show
You're trying to rehearse
And in each verse
Cries the pain
That you don't deserve,
But you land face first
At the bottom of the pit
And you cry, and you cry
Like the other kids
Did
When they saw you on stage
And they watched you perform
While you cried
While you screamed
You wish you'd never been born.
Only you know
That after the show
Was when the acting began
And when you really performed.

This one time, in biology, we learned how to take samples of fish in water, I don't like fish
And I don't like this feeling of churning up old stuff
You had to scrape the bottom ten times and then take a step and repeat
Going back over the things that happened between me and you is the very same
My stomach churns like the water in that lake
And I'm a little fish getting lost in the chaos, finally to be trapped in the net
And all the dirt, the mess and the muck, that's  
Those days, after you left, where everything was dark again
Like that one time, not in biology, I felt that I was stuck down a well, and I was clawing at the mud but I couldn't get out
And in Chemistry, I got some acid on my skin
And I let it burn
Because it was nice to feel something else
Other than the murky, brown mess
And now, I'm that little fish, churned up and confused, waiting for the water to settle so I can swim away
They say you can't swim in the same river twice because every second it's changing
And reliving this and reliving us is a little different each time as it gets further, more distant from the first time
I hope that the little fish keeps swimming til she finds the ocean, I don't think the little fish could cope being churned up and caught just one more time

I wish I could forget you, leave behind the memories like you left me, but I can’t. You’re in the air I breathe, cutting up my lungs like pieces of glass and vodka drank all too quickly. Your scent is in my clothes and on my bed, snaking your way into my dreams at night. You’re in the coffee that I drink after sleepless nights; bitter and cold on my tongue but with the possibility of delicious warmth. You’re in the paths that I trudge down every day, reminding me of the times we spent there and the feelings that are now lost forever. I hate that you left me like this. All of these empty promises and a void so large no one could dream of filling it. You must not have ever loved me, because if you had it would have been impossible to just leave like you did, taking all of my heart with you. Packing it away in your suitcase along with the shirt I gave you and the books I’d lent. What did you do with the pictures of us? Would you try to forget and leave them in their frames, or did they not mean enough to you to even worry about and were thrown carelessly in the bottom of your bag? I hate the gaps you left in me. I’m broken and damaged now and you left with the cure to fixing me. This lovesick pain is getting tiresome and I hate that it isn’t wearing on you too. I thought I was someone you couldn’t live without. You sure as hell were to me. And what’s saddest of all is that if you came back now, I would run and throw my arms around you. Because I’ve already fallen as far as I can, there’s no need for me to be cautious now for I can’t slip farther down than I have. I would love to be someone that you need. Someone you can’t live without. I would be honoured to be the person you look at, the way that I looked at you. But I was just a passing spark for you, and you were my light. Just take back the memories like you took back everything else.