Mwah, mwah,
I'm so sorry.
Sorry, sorry, sorry -
Sorry for all the sorrys.
I have to apologize for everything I do,
For who am I if not a self-acknowledged failure?
Who am I if not a cluster of catastrophes?

My words are empty;
My apologies are emptier than loneliness.
I'm sorry,
I'm sorry.
I said I'm sorry-
I know, but I said I'm sorry.
Please, please I wanna say sorry;
I wanna be sorry.
I know, I know...
But I'm sorry.

How do I unwind my trail of sorrys?
How damp of a marker will I need
To scratch out "sorry" from my thesaurus?
Just what will I do without my precious little word?
My sorry - my keeper, my comfort,
My obsession.
Now say that you forgive me,
Come on.
Say it, please, I'm begging you.
I need it more than life itself.



I'm so sorry.

It’s the place we live
A place of treachery
A place of trembling hope
And sorrow

A place where centuries of salty tears
Have cried the oceans high
Where the pines, the redwoods, and the oaks
Have fled high to the skies—learning from their earthly mistakes

I want to know it all
But I know I never will
And I want to feel strong
But a feeble human existence can never fulfill

And when the thorn ******
That’s when I’ll feel pain
But to the pain I feel when I lose you
Every few months-it is nothing

You were here on the first day
And we know-- and He knows
You wont be here for the last
But I hope you will be, for the talks in between

We don’t really talk about it
Instead we talk to talk intelligently
And I like that
And you like that

And that is why we’re the same
I wonder when I’ll have faith
Perhaps, when you have faith
Have faith in me and have trust in my words

Sorrys spread themselves wide—too wide
With every rise of the sun and turn of the tide
Despite the try, despite a determination of independence
They are taken

I worry I lack some sympathy
For I did not cry the day I heard
But you do not cry on the days you die
And you die for quite a few of them

Do you know who knows?
Or do you not care
Does it matter?
For me, it does, and you know, and he knows, and she knows

I scoffed the day I heard you believed
I laughed that I figured you a man of reason
You said you could be both
I still scoff

When I shall count the stars
When I shall breathe evenly
When I shall free the butterflies from the pits of me
That’s when I shall—when I shall free you of the blame

I know you deny it
And you may right not deserve it
But when I’ve read of all the little live things
We too, will be alive

Do you count your lucky stars
Or do you rest assured
I call the arrogance a bluff
I call it today—for tomorrow

The blanket of grey
Which comforts me so nicely
Will always remain a compliment
A compliment, remembered, and not deserved

It’s a humbling experience to realize
Not one idea you will think
Will ever be
Original

And it’s a disappointment to realize
Some ideas
Ideas of others
You will never even think

In that I call injustice
But no one will make it just
And I will rest aside
Quiet… less than robust

My existence is frightening
So is yours
So is his, so is hers
Though arrogance makes for a fantastic façade

And we’re all incredibly concerned
That today will be lost before we have achieved something--anything
Yet too distracted by tomorrow
We fulfill the prophecy, and yes, we lose today

Pride is a thing to tussle with
I want to be proud, but more so, I want you to be proud
Of me
We’ve been told to not be so proud

To be humble and oh so very honest
Though those before me have proved, time, time again
That to be anyone and to get anywhere,
Humility just won’t do

And that’s the juxtaposition I live
The contradiction I’ll never escape
How to make it all of worth
While upholding a worth of self

Your mood changes with the moon
And I try not to mind
For I know that mine
Is as steady as the tides—not very

Some people say life is a game, like Monopoly, but for most of us, our lives are sorry.
Sorry you've been abandoned, sorry i can’t see you any more, I’m so sorry for your loss. Sorry, sorry, sorry is as sorry does.
Sorry’s mean they didn't love you, he didn't care, and we couldn't save her.
Sorry's ****!
Sometimes sorrys feel good but most of the time they feel like crap.
Sorry's mean guys are jerks, people hate me, and I. HAVE. NO. FRIENDS.
Sorry, sorry, sorry, say it three times over a wound and it won’t make it heal, it’s just a five letter word, but it's a four letter word to me, it doesn't do anything.
It doesn't heal scars, or take back the words, or take the razor blades that end peoples lives from their shaking hands as they draw their last breath.
Sorry, sorry, sorry, it doesn't make life any better, it doesn't make it right.

Most days, I don’t know strong.
Not the lift my arm, flex my guns type of strong, because you and I both know that I can barely do a push up.
So I never really know much about that type of strong.

I’m talking about the type of strong that will keep this a secret, and still crush me.
Demand me into silence, teeth and jaw and fist.
So I will fold it and shove it underneath my pillow.
The type of strong that forces me to beg you.
And I will beg you to let me hold onto this.
Let me hold onto this like it’s the last part I have of you.
Don’t make me go to that clinic, I beg you, let me look into the mirror and see a mother, not a graveyard.

You see, I keep finding my hand on my stomach.
My fingers tracing the letters to everything their name could’ve been, on the skin under my belly button.
I press my palm against my flesh, and I can feel a heartbeat but I know it’s my own that echoes through these veins.
And at the end of the day, our hearts beat as one.
So when their heart stops, I wonder if mine will too.

I know the type of strong that will go back and forth on my decision a million times,
and I’m sorry that I keep telling you I’m keeping it,
but I can’t seem to shake this uncertainty and regret and I wish this weren’t the case.
I wish I had the kind of strong that prepared me for those two pink lines.
It breaks me that this is goodbye before I even knew hello, and I’m never going to meet them.

They could have your eyes, and they could have my nose.
And at three weeks, their heart started to beat.
And at four weeks, I was running out of my english classroom, because morning sickness decided to check in.
Now I’m sitting in social studies, and you’re sitting across from me, and a girl asks,
“Why do the abortion protestors come to a high school?”

I hope you saw my jaw clench, and my eyes close.
Because now my brain is running through everything I wish I had done differently,
and everything that I wish I had been strong enough for.

You see, I wish that I had the strong that allowed me to go against what was best for you, to do what was right for me.
But my strong just leaves me wondering if it were a boy or a girl.
My strong makes me want to go to walmart and buy those glow in the dark stars, stick them to the ceiling of my room, and call it a nursery.
My strong reminds me of when I was little, and my mom put pigtails in my hair.
My strong looks like tired eyes, in a bed made of sheets that needed to be washed two weeks ago.
It looks like a seventeen year old girl, that wants to go to graduate high school, but she has to be anxious about mifepristone, before she can be anxious about university acceptance.
My strong makes me feel like I’m losing a piece of myself, and my soul is being ripped from my body.
I don’t know a strong that is enough for what I need it to be.

My strong tells me to apologize, but I don’t know how many more sorrys I can give out.
I’m sorry to bring you into this.
I’m sorry that I told you.
I’m sorry that I’m scared.
I’m sorry that I can’t bring a little more of you, and a little more of me into this world.
That they will never see the blue skies, or the green fields, or the yellow flowers.
They will never know the sweet songs that you sing, or the warm chortle of your laugh, like a fire that burns through a forest of sorrow. They will only know my cries, and my sadness, and this black cloud that floats around me and screams storms when I hold my belly.
My strong tells me that this is more than just taking a pill.
It tells me that this is death,
do I need to write an obituary?

You tell me that I am so strong,
but the door to the abortion clinic is so heavy,
and I can barely do a push up.

I got out of bed with a bit of uneasiness,
I decided that it's been too long since I've written.. I think the last time I did was last week
...or the week before ?
I looked at the date, and make me twitch,
Made a tear, or two fall
Made my heart break in a few more pieces.
DID YOU KNOW THAT IT'S BEEN A MONTH SINCE WE MET ? Figuratively that is ..
DID YOU KNOW, that you've broken me into minute pieces ??
Pieces unable to be detected by microscopes ??
Pieces that can't be felt or touched with your naked hand?
DID YOU KNOW ?
No you don't.
You've been too busy missing her every second, like you did with me.
Been too busy upset with her, like you were with me.
Been too busy telling her how much you like her like you did with me.
HECK, YOU'VE BEEN TOO BUSY WORSHIPPING HER ANGELIC FACE, LIKE YOU DID WITH ME !
YOU'VE BEEN TOO BUSY BEGGING HER, TO SEE HER FULL BODY, LIKE YOU DID WITH ME !
YOU'VE BEEN TOO BUSY telling her of your childhood, and how you missed your dad
..too busy telling her how suicidal you were, and how placed a gun to your head.
And you're probably too busy, telling her of me.
YOU'VE BEEN TOO BUSY, SITTING, FORMULATING THE LIES YOU'LL TELL ME NEXT, AS TO WHY YOU'VE HAD NO TIME FOR ME : "I was helping my mom with the Christmas tree" "Someone was using my phone" "Sorry I was sleeping" - (WAIT DIDN'T YOU SPEND NIGHTS UP WITH ME TELLING ME YOU HAVE INSOMNIA ? ) "Sorry I was out" "Sorry I was on a call" . AND I DON'T CARE IF THEY'RE TRUE, I DON'T CARE IF I'M EMOTIONAL BUT THAT'S TOO MUCH 'I'M SORRYS' . TOO MUCH EXCUSES, TOO MUCH LIES.
And I'm sorry that I made a mistake and liked you so much. I'm sorry for letting you taking up my phone space,
With pictures of you that an artist would find hard to formulate.
Sorry you were my screensaver.
Sorry I told my sister about you ..yeah I told her how adorable you were
And I told her you were my ''soon to be boyfriend" ...
And I'm sorry that I pushed another into the fire because of you
Yeah I'm sorry I pushed him aside.
But karma's a ***** and I knew it would get me, I told you it would AND I TOLD YOU IN THE END I'D BE HURT, and you told me no, and I would be.
Darling being replaced doesn't bother me, it doesn't make my bones crack,
It doesn't make my heart cry ..
It's the mixed signals.
Today you're all flirty with me, tomorrow you're calling me names.
WHY DON'T YOU MAKE UP YOUR MIND ?!
I know you no longer need be, and to be honest you never did,
So be honest with me and let me leave you alone ??

I'm also sorry for listening to your lies.
I should've known though, by the signs you gave,
"Let's be friends with benefits?"
FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS WHEN I WAS HOPING WE'D GO SOMEWHERE ?? F.W.B, WHEN I WAS HOPING WE'D BE TOGETHER ONE DAY ? F.W.B, WHEN YOU SAID YOU LIKED ME MORE THAN YOU SHOULD'VE ??
Special to be used then thrown aside ?
What did you want ? A piece of me ?
I should've have know when you said I was special, after I said you were my "soon to be boyfriend "
And I'm sorry you'll never get to see this.
But I hope you suffer from your mistakes
And rot in the arms of any other you come across,
Because no one will EVER adore you like I DID.

I'm sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, I should leave, I'm not good, why do you like me, she'd parrot again and again, coming and going and coming and going and I will love this love forever and I don't want to lose you and soul mates and we're going to be okay and we're safe to each other and sorry, sorry, sorry and you should abandon me and coming and going and stop calling yourself honest, and are you sure you have bpd, and coming and going and one day there are no more sorrys and coming and going and I can't take this and coming and eventually

going.

"Here are some snippets and poetry I wrote" my ex says in an email some days after I've drunkenly reinitiated contact with them after a year of nothing and the "snippets" go back and back and back, 2015, 2014, 2013, and we both confess to having read each other's blog and they will end up refollowing me on every blog they have which is all well and good but I am still scared and wondering why I seem to always go where I don't belong, why I am always trying to open some Pandora's box and they have said they never get over anyone, they have called me their muse and I want to tell them that I am not their muse, I am only myself, my best friend tells me to be distant with them after I tell her about the drama with them that I managed to handle and I had started writing a poem to them but now I think I'll just close the unsaved document, I only sent them one poem but I don't want to send any more, it would only encourage them, maybe encourage me and that's all I ever do - encourage people who end up scaring and hurting me, but hey at least I get content from all of it.

"I miss you" ze tells me, ze sends me hearts and initiates contact and likes every stupid thing I ever post on Facebook, and when we're around each other everything is fine, and my best friend tells me ze would date me if I let hir but I can't do it, I can't casually date, not a white person and not now, not after all I've dealt with, I think I just want to be alone forever now, and ze is so nice to me but I just can't reciprocate when we are not in the same room, and I don't believe hir is really autistic or bpd and I never know why, and ze is the best of all of hir anarqueer friends but there is something so off about all of them and they are good entertainment from afar but these are the kinds of people I would have been so jealous of when I was still at smith and always hurting from my perpetual anonymity among the hipsters I realized I would never be a part of, and I have accepted that I will always be invisible among white hipsterqueers but sometimes it still hurts, "community" is ******* and I don't believe it could ever exist for me, but that doesn't mean that I don't sometimes want it desperately.

"Let's go to Tuesgays," my best friend announced last night, and I roused myself up because I knew she wanted to go and wouldn't go without me, she told me as much when we were walking in the dark trying to find the club, and I gathered up all the bits of naivety and hope and the maybe it will be okay amidst all the fear and fatigue and I assembled the bits into a shoddy structure that blew away an hour later and I'm sure I ruined the night but she didn't tell me, and she bought me pizza but the pizza was too much and I don't want to perform at an open mic and I don't want to spend money and I don't want to drink but I do anyway and I don't know why I do all these things I don't like doing, building all these unstable structures that just fall down in the end, and I don't know what's wrong, it's not her fault, I just wish I were dead.

"So fill me in on these last five years. How's life?" I didn't respond to the old high school friend who I wasn't even particularly close with them and once I thought it would be cool to reconnect with friends in high school but every time they ever try to contact me now all I think is "go away, go away, go away," and it's more intense with men, he texts me this morning, days after I delete the text, says, "You were the first person that ever wrote on my wall on facebook, remember? I never forgot that," as if that's supposed to make me feel something, what I want to say is "hi I'm gay and crazy and not the person who wrote on your wall in 2007 and I don't know what the point is in contacting me," but I will hold my tongue because I can't say these things, I will continue to not reply, just like I don't reply to the old men I meet who send me emails or add me on Facebook because maybe I am their only friend and it's not their fault, it's mine for talking, mine for trusting, for giving away my email and poetry so willingly, always forgetting that slightly sick feeling I get afterwords, that's what being uncomfortable is, that feeling that something is wrong, wrong, wrong, and you're stuck and it's too late to go back but something is wrong and you can't put your finger on what is wrong, what is wrong, what is wrong with you, why can't you be nicer to the people around you, why are you writing this at all, stop feeling this anxious, stop feeling bad for no reason, stop feeling

uncomfortable.

Is life imitating art or is art imitating life?
Eventually there will be nothing left to hide
Save your sorrys  
It's time for me to cool your mind and tell you it's all alright
We're the pop-up's on your phone screen
Sending you little blurbs
Memes are funny because they're true
At least to you
You're the hypochondriacs
Who convinced yourselves you need to be healed
With a numbness cure by posts that make you feel

There will be a new one, if you like the last
Is life imitating art or is art imitating life?
Eventually there will be no where left to hide
Save your sorrys  
It's time for me to cool your mind and tell you it's all alright
This is a beat generation
But with less respect but way more dope
The question is "why should I?"
Our answer is always "I don't know"
We're yesterdays news and tomorrows punchline
Never even had chance
Self-entitlement won't ease the situation
Of our need for instant gratification

I need a drink in my system to take off the edge
I need a lie to make me feel safe
I have an axe in my skull splitting my brain
Is it me or the world who's insane?
Upload, like, follow
Reblog, comment, unfollow
What's hot is hot now but not tomorrow
Will your words hold up or drop out?
       -Tommy Johnson

Dear Harry,

I see you're doing well these days.
One year later and I still watch as you grin and laugh with your friends.
Sometimes I just grin as well knowing the truth behind the plastic you call a smile.

You once told me that you feel like you don’t belong.
You get a burning in your chest thinking of how awful humanity is and how you wish you were a robot so your brain would match your body.
But when I told you from the anxious walls of my heart that I sort of feel the same but I'm not making a metaphor, I'm transgender
You said that I didn't feel it as intensely as you did so my identity wasn't that important.
I suppose I can tell you now that you became the reason why I agree with you about humanity.

Your face sickens me.
Sort of funny how everyone calls you Harry Potter because of a scar shaped like a lightning bolt on your cheek and it was a big joke and I always laughed because what a coincidence even though I never read the books or watched the movies and now because of you:
I never will want to.

I don’t know if you realise that you’ve shattered me.
Shattered me like the board you can cut in half thanks to years of karate and your hand crafted swords are part of the reason I never crossed you because if I just change myself hard enough maybe you would stop saying you could use them on me if I kept talking about how much I love everything if everything isn’t you.

Sometimes I would wonder if you could hear my knees fighting not to snap in half.
I would wonder if you knew that you are like a hurricane; strong and unpredictable.
And like a hurricane, you came storming and when your thunder rumbled and rain paraded all over me it left nothing untouched.
I could say you're a forest fire but that would make it hot and quick and emotionless.
No, you are a hurricane because hurricanes are wet and windy and raw and wild and it left me drowning.
Unlike a hurricane, your damage can not be fixed with teamwork and donations from those that feel sympathy.
The damage you’ve done is permanent and even with all the repairs I’ve made in the form of therapy sessions and promises that I shall overcome,
I.
I am still in ruins.

You are bitter but not sweet.
But for 17 torturous months I only saw it the other way around.  
Reaching out to try to catch onto something worth fighting for
But this isn’t worth fighting for

Because my hands hurt from writing I’m sorrys.
Because my brain hurts from pushing out reasons you’re not worth it.
Because my soul hurts from fighting the back of my mind that still loves you.
You have rendered me obsolete.

I'm sorry I hurt myself
I know you felt the pain to
I'm sorry I wasn't always there
I just wanted you to know I care
I'm sorry I was always sad
I knew it only made you mad
I'm sorry that your there crying
When I stopped trying
I love you
Forgive me

You described your love for me as scary
Something that woke up little children at night, whimpering to their mothers.

You describe my reaction to your saddest story as cold
Like a forest dead and quite in the winter

I left you alone in the cold dead forest, scared and lonely

I left you quietly in the dead of night

I send to you endless amounts of sorrys
I hope that they might come in handy in the dark

ER

If you can take away all my love, what do I need you for?
You can take away all these words, there's no meaning anymore.
You can take away everything leave me lying on the floor,
all those sorrys, we can't go back to the start.
You can't fix me, I'm torn apart.

[Chorus]
I wanna run away from love, this time I have had enough.
Everytime I feel your touch, I'm broken.
Shattered all the pieces of parts.
Never thought I'd fall so hard.
I'm putting back together my heart, it's broken.

You can take these photographs and watch them fade away.
You can through away all these letters, I don't care about what they say.
All those sorrys, there's a million reasons why you can't mend me, don't even try.

[Chorus]

I know it's gonna take some time, to finally realize.
I got nothing left inside, nothing to hide, I'm broken, broken, broken

The struggle of being broken
No, not physically
Mentally
When you've been played with
Been dropped
And shattered
Many times before.
The "I'm sorrys" I always fall for
The forgiveness I can't take back
The knife that's still in my back
Five fingers held up, only one
is deserving to be seen by you
One finger, two finger, three finger, four
I ball each one like before
Hold back the tears of being left again
But nobody should know
Because I'm not the one who
Should struggle now
I have to be strong for those around me
Hold up my fist in victory for all to see
Smile on my face
No one can see the fate
Of the girl
With a struggle

Dear TheEndOfForever

I’ve read your poems.

All of them.

You seemed like the type of writer who has a writing style worth reading every single one of their works.

I liked as many as I had time for but after a while I just read because I got lost in the words you wrote.

I just want you to know that I would have loved to have liked them all (if I had more time).

I don’t know you personally, but I read your poetry and I believe you are a very emotionally brave person.

Sounds like you have been through a lot.

Lots of it sounds similar to what I’ve been through, but we have all got stories to tell.

The unpretty kind.

I just thought I’d let you know that you are the externally as well as internally pretty kind of person.

Unpretty things tend to happen to those types of people.

It sounds like you have been scarred in many ways, the way many have, but it is just as horrible.

It hurts my heart to think that you have been in pain because you are a truly phenomenal poet.

Lots of your poetry contains powerful and agonizing emotions.

Tales of heartbreaking experiences and incidents.

Beautifully written, but beautifully tragic as well.

I took some of my favorite lines of your poetry and responded to them.

I just want you to know, you are recognized, acknowledged, admired, commended, and loved as a poet by me.

I hope this doesn’t freak you out, but I just want you to know that your poetry is one of the few that has truly affected me inside and inspired me.

I am proud to know you as a fellow poet.
Know that you are beautiful inside (judging by your poetry) and I don’t know if that profile picture is you or not for sure but if it is, outside as well.
Honestly though, I don’t care about how beautiful other people are externally.

You are a very strong person to have survived through everything your poetry depicts and anything else you haven’t shared.

I admire you for being introverted and so accepting of yourself that way.

You are a lovely person and poet.

Stay strong.

<3



You don't bother to check me, though you must have your suspicions
I never wear the proper clothes for these ungodly conditions
Its hot as hell but I love my long sleeves
What more proof do you need than these?
-TheEndOfForever

I’ve been there. It hurts when they are oblivious because it is as if they don’t care but just know that not knowing and not caring are two different things. Since you posted this poem, I know that you have an scarring secret to hide. You are brave to keep it secret. Also, relatable and incredible writing. I love these phrases.




I am the dark one,
And the dark one is me.
-TheEndOfForever

Darkness is beauty as far as I am concerned. Magnificent poetic line.




I'm nothing worth holding onto
You would drown trying to keep me afloat
-TheEndOfForever

I think you are worth holding onto. Some people are worth drowning for. You seem like one of them. Still, powerful imagery and metaphor. What an extraordinary idea to introduce.





Listen, I'm sorry
-TheEndOfForever

You are very brave and strong to be saying you are sorry for something. I admire you for that especially since I struggle with sorrys. It takes a small person to latch on to pride and never say they are sorry. It takes courage to admit being wrong or remorse. I applaud you for this. Also, relatable and raw poetry. Lovely line.




My love for you is just too much,
So this burden, I won't share
-TheEndOfForever

So achingly relatable. You are so, so beautifully selfless to protect them out of love, sacrificing your own relief of sharing your burden and carrying it alone just to unselfishly save them the pain. I absolutely adore this poetic phrase.






Dear TheEndOfForever,

Thank you for writing these exquisite works of art made out of words and emotions.

You are a compliment to the art of poetry.

You have inspired me and amazed me.

From one poet to another: You. Are. Beautiful. Inside. And. Out.
So is your poetry. <3



~Love~

-Ember

How did we get here
where vitamin water turned into ***** and the power of innocence changed to the courage of
alcohol. The boys no longer opening car doors and the girls trading in t-shirts for crop tops that show off
what they were or weren’t wearing.
Where sneaking a soda after dinner turned into hiding a flask at the family party where we used to play games
like hip-scotch and dodge ball instead of drinking hard whisky and Jack.
The promises made in the D.A.R.E. program about not doing drugs or drinking
were traded in for drunk driving and “just one hit.”
How did we get here
where grape juice turned into white wine and a nervous kiss under the bleachers
at the Friday football game moved to steaming up the windows in the back seat of that car
at the party on Saturday night.
The knocking on your neighbor’s door for them to come out and play moved to texting
in the driveway and hanging out means sitting on your phone
while sitting on the couch next to someone else.
How did we get here,
where root beer turned to Busch lite and being home before dark
switched to struggling to be home before the sun came up.
The parents not knowing their innocent children are making children and kids being too drunk to remember
they promised to go to Church on Sunday morning.
Where asking for forgiveness overpowered asking for permission and sorrys turned into whiskey shots
and make up ***.
How did we get here
with a drink in one hand and the other around my waist while you lean into me too drunk
to stand on your own.
This is the first time we’ve spoken since that day last June and I can’t help but notice why.
How did we get here
where the power of innocence changed to the courage from alcohol?

my misread compass
-harley ginsberg

obsessing over what I wanna do
making decisions for me
and solving my problems too
why can't you just leave me alone
I need a thinking place and some time of my own
need tons of space away from you
sick of being trapped in your zone
feel possessed by your power
too controlling for me
I'm just a broken hearted soul
keep taking advantage of the
tears in my eyes rolling down my cheeks
as I'm screaming and running
I just want some peace
it's my own ****** up life
don't want you living in it
keep blowing out the flames of the candles I lit
and when I'm finally happy
you wanna know what you do?
you destroy it like a tornado
pretending you had no clue
of the smiles on my face
the glow in my eyes
but it comes as no surprise
people say you mean well
but I know the truth
you planted yourself in me
from each toe to every tooth
and you use my weakness
to put yourself on a high
but I'm done with the sorrys
and every single lie
I know better now
then to sit and watch it happen
I know not to give you any satisfaction
you take it all from me and leave me with nothing
you break my heart at the push of a button
and as I'm trying to push away all the pain
it's always gonna be the same
and as blood trickles down my arm and through each vein
I'm trying not to go insane
cause you're stuck on my mind
for all the wrong reasons
leaves are in my path
falling for those changing seasons
wishing you would change too
and back away from me and my old life
and the way I was living
I'm done with never getting and always giving
I need love in return to mend my broken heart
but only thing you sending my way is dart after dart
they go through me like air but get caught in my lungs
now I'm choking on lyrics that can't even be sung
I want to forgive you believe me I do
but how can I let go of this when you're the only direction I knew
I'll be lost on my own
I'm so used to being guided by you
but it's on the wrong path
and I'll figure out what to do
so goodbye forever to my misread compass
I'm hopping in my own lane
I'll be okay
I promise

i had this dream that they
had thrown me into a hole,
and by a feat of bravery I
had managed to escape,
out the window and through
the azalea bushes--

but I returned with a raging
hatred, an unquenchable vengeance
that manifested in red clay that
settled over the creases in my palms
and poured south in waves shaped
like old angers and great mountains
giant bison that snorted and plowed
forth--

but I was the bison and I was the clay,
greeting visitors with crushed eggs, yolk
weeping through my knuckles, the voice
of a hundred i'm sorrys creaking through
the speakers in the living room,

and i'm wiping blood from the meat in the kitchen
on my dress with the yellow fade near the hem
telling visitors yes, come in
yes, come in
when they shouldn't
and I shouldn't

but I could shake the earth, father, I'm so angry.

I could shake the earth.

I miss you
you don't know how much*
the rest is incohorent, he keeps
saying sorry, over and over.

I guess I understand why, now.
the apologies, the childlike way
he'd turn and burrow into my
shoulder--something he'd
hardly done before

maybe I didn't understand
the reasoning behind the things
he would have liked, but the pain
was always so palpable
a heavy ache, a lonesome ache--

I hope all the blackest things
are the farthest from you,
and that you recede from
the places that only bring
temporary comfort,
i hope that you heal,
that all the ways you
have frozen over will
thaw, not a bitter thing
to be found,

i hope that the bees
find you sweet, Matt
because you are and I did,
you are not a body of
the things people have said

breathe, in and out


in and out.
with me,
in and out.

The faded flicker of the far off clock was my only source of light. Until I picked up my phone and let my 2 A.M. thoughts run rampant. They made my fingers race across the screen. Made them play tag. They swiped and pinched until finally there you were. At 2 A.M. you were in my hands again. You're smile was as wide as ever and your eyes held the same glitter like they did when you used to talk to me. And You spoke about me even more. People would often come up to me and say that my name was all that would slip off your tongue. And I remembered that snake. The first time it brushed against my lower lip wanting access like a lion knowing that there was more to life than it's own cage. But to everyone, you spoke of me like I was the one who made the sun rise, who put the stars in the sky, who made the wind blow, and who made your world as you knew it turn.
My 2 A.M. thoughts made my fingers dance again. And another you appeared before me. All dressed up. Like we were married. But far from it. We sat like we had to save space on the Mayflower. I was in your lap and your arms were around my fragile frame. And I knew I would never love someone as much as I loved you that night. And my 2 A.M. thoughts brought me to the messages. Where are little "I love you more" fights were held and our futures were voiced. Remember that?
I was only a few months older than you. And I remember saying that I had to wait longer for my soulmate to come to me. And there you were again. In my head talking to me when we were bestfriends. While tapping on the plastic on the screen, the fingers fought for their right to voice the will of my 2 A.M. thoughts.
And I wrote about how I met you so far, way back when. I wrote about the dances we went to, the dates we laughed about. And then ultimately the 2 A.M. thoughts brought me to the deepest places I never wanted to let set free again.
And they scrambled on the keyboard of the phone! CAPS LOCKs, sorrys, pleads, and begs. Explanation after explanation and so many what if's. And I read it and read it. And only now did I realize that I was choking on the tears that you left me with. And I continued with the rant, and blamed you for what happened and blamed you for the causes. And then I stopped. And wept into the cold tear stained pillow, screaming into it like it was my last shot at everything I could ever have been. And once I felt numb enough to pretend that it wouldn't bother me anymore I let the small sobs escape my quivering lips and I destroyed the barrage of words that was my 2 A.M. thoughts. And instead willed my hands to let the fingers dance once more as I typed:

You're coming back, right?

_____

You're coming back right (sent 2:35 A.M.)
  (read 2:36 A.M.)

. . .

And the dots they came.
And I waited.
But inevitably,
Just like you,
They left me with the question:
You're coming back, right?

Everyone else has gone home
I watch the waves and wait for the taxi cab.
Desperately clinging to my thank yous and sorrys I burrow myself in them, like a scared, lost kitten.  
Always needing.
Forced to be the Chameleon,
how could I know anything else?
God can only judge me, if he can find me.
I keep making gods out of people.
Stop.
Stop.
Stop.
I hold off until I can’t.
Nail me by my feet and by my hands
something inside of me
craves to be crucified.
Guilt has been woven into my body,
by hands as old as exodus.
To the Chameleon, this is what it is to be held.
This feels like home.
This, right here, is my everlasting.
Thank you,
I’m sorry.

You broke the girl with the golden smile.
You watched the light drain from her eyes.
A thousand I'm sorrys could never reclaim
The one who was your rainbow after the rain.

“Wait,” I whispered through the dark of the 12am moon, my breath warm and sweet against the constellation sky.
I looked into your eyes, hopeful and expecting.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered back, your words cold and harsh against my ballerina skin.
You couldn’t wait for me, you had too much going on.
And maybe I made mistakes,
maybe I did things I wish I had never done,
of course the girl I am now would never have done those things,
I promise.
Yet the sparkle in your eyes had already faded into the tears rolling down your freckled cheeks.
I should’ve been the one saying sorry;
to you and to myself.
You said sorry because you fell out of love.
I’m saying sorry because I never did.

She cried a single salty tear
all her hurt bound over the year
She realised she'd turned her hand
a footprint left behind in the sand

and all you goners, you left her from here
left her crying one salty tear
and she never left or walked away
she took each step, made it day by day

She took a hand and it was not yours
left your memory on distant shores
drowned your sorrow in sweat and blood
stayed a good girl, like all good girls should

and you took her more than she baragined for
left her naked and shivering on the floor
left her alone with her salted eyes
left her loving all she despised

no love song for you
and no glory be no more
she left your mercy washed up on the shore
no more are you here
no more i wonder or try in vain
no more should i let my love be my shame

She smiled a good smile and all was good
she stopped being a good girl
like all good girls should
she drank from her life and felt the burn
remembered all that she had to yearn

she lived a good life when all was said
left you lying there in your bed
and ****** on your sorrys and i wonder and what fors
didn't wait around for locked hidden doors

She fell full forwards and backwards a mile
she hit a battlefield when she saw your smile
but no alas, alack, you are no more
your love is like sand, washed upon the shore

good evening, good morning, good night
you lost me within the range of your sight
it took me 6 months and 6 months no more
to realise you are nothing, nothing no more

Nobody noticed when she purged herself of her lunch though the scent of ***** was still recognizable through her mint gum.
Nobody noticed when she tore through her untouched skin despite the trickle of blood she forgot to wipe clean.
Nobody noticed her cries of help through her sobs of sorrys.
Nobody noticed the pain in her eyes.
Nobody noticed when she broke.
Nobody noticed and for that she is gone.

From my bedroom window,
I can see a lime green ribbon
Constricting itself around a tree.
Lynching the last inch of life
From a being
That stood strong for a half of a century.
As each leaf wilts and falls it is a reminder that nothing is ever permanent.
Everything dies eventually.
In our family,
Green is worn proud
Above our hearts
The star of David guiding us on our way
But something to be ashamed of.
A color that condemns our family to endure your sympathetic stares
That follow us everywhere.
It is as if we are the main attraction of your circus:
Come see the dying, the crying, and the bald.
But to us, one ribbon wrapped around are hearts
Represents a million words wrapped into one.
Especially the ones never said.
The I love yous
The I need yous
The I’m sorrys
And the goodbyes
It is an endless cycle
Of CAT scans, and chemo, and radiation, and surgery, and blood tests, over and over.
If only to slow the process of
Cells detonating themselves
In a body that was never strong enough to fight it.
Strong arms cannot hold the weight of their daughter’s broken hearts
Or their sons missed football games,
Or their wives plan less anniversaries
When they carry their own mortality
We never knew that our man of steel,
Would become our man of sleepless nights,
No longer able to carry his children to bed at night.
The only person to guide through our disjointed lives
What ifs become your safe haven as well as your nightmare?
And your reality becomes mixed with fatality.
And eventually, you don’t know the difference.
Prayers become a lost hope,
Church becomes a last resort
And treatment becomes useless
Because it is a diagnosis that no one can escape.
I never understood “When someone is diagnosed with cancer, everyone around them is as well.”
And dad know that when I look into your lifeless eyes
Mine will mirror it.

I've been shot through the heart
By a bullet with no name
So I have no one left to blame for this
I'm lying here
Bleeding out
Asking forgiveness from everyone I've met
But they all deleted my number along time ago
Nobody answers numbers they don't recognize anymore
So really I'm just lying here
Staring at the moon doing its best impersonation of the Cheshire Cat
And I want that
That, smile while I die
The "it ain't ****"
That swagger that everyone else seems to have
I never had

I'm lying in a casket I built
The only project I ever finished
They're shoveling piles of regrets, sorrys, and unused potential
That's enough to bury me here
My headstone doesn't read like the eulogy of a loved man
It reads like a children's book
One word per page
And the word they put on the only page about me?
Somebody else's name
So the creditors couldn't find me
It's not like anyone else calls these days
History need not remember those who did not contribute to it

The list of things I've said I would do
Is not as long as the list of things Kanye West has done
But if you let me finish you'll see it's ten times as long as the list of things I've done

I know five songs by heart
Every one of them is sad
Ain't No Sunshine
500 Miles (not the catchy one the old a capella one from the fifties)
Hallelujah
Landslide
And Red Eye
I use the word why like a piece of gum
Chewing on it until it loses its flavor
It used to taste like coconut
After 10 hours of a graveyard shift it just tastes like yesterday
And the moon doesn't track my days anymore
My feelings do and it's been today for a long time and yesterday I was happy
It's been a few years since yesterday
I can't wait till tomorrow
Who knows maybe it will come when I wake up

I have black out curtains
The sun says goodnight to my toes through the crack in them
My dreams still watch her pull the trigger
I still wake up with bullet holes
People are still not answering my phone calls
And I'm too afraid of my mirror to go knock on their doors and ask if they want to come out and play
She knew
I knew
But knowing isn't accepting and accepting isn't wanting
I want my dreams back

My feet swell up at the end of a work day
When I take my shoes off they feel better
I don't feel better now that she's gone
My heart used to swell up after seeing her
Apparently swelling doesn't always hurt
Apparently making it stop doesn't always feel better
I learn something new every day
Today I learned that if you only think happy thoughts about a person you just miss them more
Yesterday I learned if you only think bad thoughts about a person you just want to apologize
Tomorrow I'll learn what happens if you forgot that person ever left
She won't be learning the same lesson
I don't see this going too well
My therapist says it doesn't have to be fair to be how I feel
I feel discarded
Like one of my promises
Like one of her days
Like a snow man in March
The piece of litter the prisoners forgot in the blackberry bush on the side of 1-5

The moon smiles like a cat who never knew what it was to frown
I live like a man who never knew what it was to be

I ,
yes I the traveller have long seeked the sun ,
moon and the clouds yet they again have slipped my gaze and only
darkness covers my eyes .
The story teller of the great God of  “IAm “ about his tales should I
tremble as I listened with many others in the great hall ,
Speaking of a God who one day even his patience will like sand
drift from his loving blood stained hands .

Begone with you for even i have to sleep and find comforts that no man should seek ,
let alone find , for the monsters of the deep loneliness , bitterness ,
and pride leave me captive in chains .

Sage if you see him tell him what might have been ,
and sorrys only purpose is love.

Please don’t burden me again with you’re story’s of woe my darkness is full of tempting visions and to sleep is to indulge .

What’s wrong with me my eyes are dim when they used to love the light and fair grounds with hymns and songs ,
tales from the book ,
the story tellers I must find and end this Blessed night .

Chain mail of Norman men rise from the river ,
skeletons of my past rattle like snakes in my head .
When in sleep do they arose me and darken my forest in this cold winters night .
Captive only to the light how my soul seeks rest from this
besieged fortress ,
dare I surrender to my foe ?

Holy Spirit freeer of the night thy captors await thee ,
for this tale must end in heaven or hell .
Look again the jailer comes and light once again must set me free .

If my words could bring you back
I'd tell the mirror that you've gone away to battle
My noble prince will return
(Though your best weapons were always cold words and cold shoulders)

I'd inscribe my name into the bindings of all your favorite books
As though some part me could find some part of you in them

I'd yell at every pillow
That couldn't manage to muffle my cries

Every song that sounded just too much like us

Every fairy tale that seemed mocked us in it's polarity
(Dear, I wish I could've spun us in gold)

Every picture we took
That now look too much like broken promises

I'd sweet talk the fridge
Into making me feel worthy of more comfort food
I guess
you always said you like them "thick"
After you told me I'd gotten rounder

I'd scribble ***** sick sorrys into the floorboards
Serenading the floors you walked
(I think they turned to water on your final gracing of them
Because now I'm falling through)

I'd tell the fractures in these walls that you were the best filler
The fractures in my chest the same

I'd speak of you in the highest regard
My bourgeoisie balance act
Always calling for a coup d'état

And maybe that's why when I see you
I'm so choked up
I gargle these words in my mouth
But they fall into a silent drone
And If my words could bring you back
I still don't know that I could say a thing

Buried rabbit hole, you never knew what was there
a crushed mirror brings bad luck, sorrys won't save you
This is like kindergarten, I'm trying hard to understand
"Why you didn't tell the obvious"

Abandoned playground, you never come to play anymore
a broken swing that can't be fixed, the ropes won't hold you
This isn't fairyland and I'm finding hard to tell you
"Some day the dreamers wake up"

Open book, you never read between the lines
hell is bringing its demons, secrets won't trust you
This is our twenties, I'm trying so hard to laugh
"How I wish I was dead"


*And I find it kind of funny
I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4N3N1MlvVc4&feature;=share

I read a book once that told me
"I love you means never having to say you're sorry"
So if I love you so much
And I do so incredibly beyond these words..
How come I feel as if I need to apologize,
Please just let me.
It needs to be said from these lips,
the same ones that have kissed the entirety of you and left bruises on your neck.
Let me use the same voice that whispers I love you, into your ear and the same voice that sings to the radio in the car,

the same voice that has formed hurtful words that furled out of my throat like leftover cigarette smoke when the window is suddenly slammed shut and you can still smell and taste the bitter burning tobacco.
You look at me and you can't stop sighing. I look at you and I can't even see you. Your body to me has broken and I can't pick up the pieces because you won't stop sighing.
I love you means never having to say you're sorry.
I think in my head all the hate and every single sorry I would like to say

But you say sorry first.
It comes out of your mouth burning my insides quickly before the match has even reached the candle. I know before you even say it, turning me into a melted puddle of tears, more hatred, more sorrys.

The body that was once bits has been picked up and built together again and now reaches for the body that is a pool of lifeless clay and holds her hand and molds her back together. He holds her  fragile body and wipes the hot tears that could make her melt again and she mutters:
"I'm sorry."