Perfect. By: Hannah Ostenberg

Puffed out cheeks, sunken eyes, raw throat, salty tears that run down my dry skin,
I am perfect.
Dry thin brittle hair, nails that are chipping away, Bruises litter my paper thin skin,
I am perfect.
Thigh gap of an inch and a half, Concaved stomach, hip bones sharp like glass, ribs so prominent that when my thin cold fingers run over them feeling every dip between, they could be strummed like a one of a kind vintage guitar making a sad melody,
I am perfect.
Heavy chest, Short breath, Numb limbs, Cold skin,To weak to get out of bed,
I am perfect.
Make up painted face, fake smiles, Daily lies, “I’m not hungry, I already ate, I’m ok, I‘m fine, I‘m just tired”  
I am perfect.
I am perfect,
I am prefect, Perfect at lying.
I am perfect.
I am perfect, Perfect at dying
I am perfect.
I am perfect, I am perfectly killing myself, but to the outside, to society, I’m just….
Perfect.
By: Hannah Ostenberg

Dear depression,
I don't question you anymore, I don't question, why me? Why I am sad today? I don't question why you make me push everyone away, or how you came about finding me.
I now turn to you for comfort because you're all I know, you're the only thing that hasn't left me, hasn't let me down. You're always here to remind me that I'm alone, and not to trust. Like an old friend, I find comfort in your arms while I'm lying In bed at 2 in the afternoon, the time I tell everyone I am busy.
Your embrace smothers me so beautifully, you make me see the world in a different light, black and white is what I live in, I see the world for what it is. Hell.
Dear Depression,
Because of you I stopped looking for monsters and demons underneath my bed and Inside my closet, I now see them in mirrors and when I close my eyes, I hear them as they demand attention in the silence of my room, they are screaming, pleading to be heard, like lost souls in the firey depths of hell trying to escape from the devil. It's agonizing really but I find comfort and live In contentment as it all I've known for so long.
Dear depression,
I sometimes think I can be happy, that I am happy. But my happy is, stepping on the scale and seeing the number go down, my happy is looking in the mirror and thinking "Wow, you don't look fat today", my happy is lying in bed all day and managing to actually get an hour of sleep. My happy is feeling like I want to exist, that I do exist and not feeling like I want to disappear, but then I see people around me, with real smiles on their faces and laughs that aren't forced, and I question if I've ever really known happiness.
Dear depression,
You have made me an excellent actor, with a make up painted face, a fake smile and a forced laugh, I play the best charade of happy. as long as I hide my eyes and cover my scars, people are blind to my reality, although I think they still would be if they saw every flaw you've left with me, because they say ignorance is bliss, I say it's blindeness. And your blind to what you don't want to see, and no one wants to see the reality of a hollow body, it's like I'm already gone, brain dead but my heart still beats, waiting to pull the plug, waiting to pull me from my life line.
Dear depression,
You make me feel crazy, I'm at war with myself. a game of Russian roulette, and my head is the battlefield. A constant war is raging on, it's like I'm standing on the shore line get ****** in by the tide, drowning and sinking I struggle until I realize I never really learned how to swim, I always just stayed afloat.
Dear depression,
I now realize there's no winning this game of Russian roulette without killing myself, so In the end you will always be my bestfriend, because I don't know if it makes me strong or if it makes me weak, but I can't pull my plug, so I'll remain brain dead In the comfort of your smothering arms at 2 in the afternoon, the time when I tell everyone I'm busy.
By: Hannah Ostenber

Him....
He was sunshine and rainbows, the calm after the storm.
he was the brightest days after the darkest night's.
He was mourning doves in the crisp summer morning air, singing melodies I loved to hear.
He was the sweet coffee I drank while watching the sunrise, he warmed me inside and filled me with a dose of happiness.
He was like chocolate. I craved him as much as I craved sweets as a child, I wanted him every day.
He was the sight from the top of a mountain, beautiful.... he took my breath away and filled me with adrenaline and contentment.
He was the changes during the seasons, with every side I saw I loved him more.
He was light, like a breeze between the tallest trees.
he was the trees. He held so much life, with holes inside of his body for everything he loved, he was home.
He was the city I lived in, I knew every street, every turn, He was a map I had memorized.
He was my home.

Until he wasn't.....

He is a hurricane, the eye of the storm. the rain it pours like the tears pour from my eyes.
He is the clouds in the sky on the darkest days.
He is the silent echo in the dewy morning winter air, there is an eerie feeling that he leaves me with.
He is the bitter taste, the burnt tongue as I struggle to swallow the scorching black coffee, he doesn't fill me the same.
He is the green vegetables I hated as a child but I knew I needed to grow, to thrive, to live.
He is the sight of an airplane in the sky while standing on the ground, he makes me feel so small.
He is the seasons in the arctic, always so cold. I trudged through the ice, the snow, I ran as fast as I could while the cold air burned my lungs, I heaved and gasped while falling to my knees.
He is the humidity in the southern states on a hot summer day, the air so thick and smoggy it makes you want to crawl out of your skin, he doesn't flow the same way.
He is no longer a tree, rather now the proof of one that once lived. He no longer holds a hole inside his body for me. He's now soil compact so hard you'd swear it was concrete, but a piece of his root still lives and he is now building a new home for someone else.
His need for practice of deforestation was perfectly executed on me.
He is a foreign city I've never been to, he is now a map I get lost trying to understand stand.
He is no longer my home and I,
I am lost..

Him, it was always about him.

These are the words I would never tell you,
Your smile, your eyes, your hair, that is just a plus to you, but your personality is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I thought after one year, the crush would be over but I was wrong.
7 years later and I'm still completely and utterly in love with you. You're the person I look for when I walk in a room, you're the person I can mess with their hair and wouldn't care. You're the person that I can throw a pencil at and make you pick it up and wouldn't get mad. You're the only man I trust, and you know how much I don't trust them. But I know I can tell every single secret but one and you wouldn't tell another soul. When you told me you believed in me, a piece of my broken heart went into it's place like a puzzle piece.

You lay in a field of flowers counting each bird that passes overhead.
You've erased concern and decided to live for the moment because you always would say, "we might be dead by tomorrow."
Flowers grew from your heart and bloomed across your lungs,
creating a garden that sang the most beautiful hymns,
while my garden was withering.
Each breath you took was never wasted,
but I couldn't help but count mine like they were birds passing overhead.
Every night you would view the stars and moon with pure amazement as if it was your first time seeing them.
You gave all your love to me and each kiss was coined in my pocket.
You fell in love with me every night and I fell for all your hymns.
Soon enough the world would pass us by but I wouldn't blink because I could live off your touch for the rest of my time.
You showed me there is more in life than just one color,
but instead, the world is a whole painting with colors that can't be described.
You showed me just how beautiful the world was.
You taught me how to grow beauty from my eyes but lately, I've been dreaming and falling for stars.
Imagining what it'd be like slow dancing with the planets, getting lost in constellations.
But I'm just not ready to go yet however I do not control time.
You showed me that dying can be beautiful.
That we'll be okay because when we leave we all become one with the earth and one with nature.
So love, love me until time runs out,
until I become one with nature.

And many years later as time starts to fly by and you slowly start to watch your clock tick down, you'll know where to find me, my love.
I'll be up with stars.
Somewhere lost in the cosmos.
I'll be spinning with the planets dreaming about what it would feel like to be able to walk on flowers again.

.
A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It's the tears that trickle with radiance through words.
     It's a treasure trove that hides but longs to
     be found.
          It's a book shelved high that wants to
          be read.
               It's the freest of all birds caged but
               unbound...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It doesn't beat to the capable strokes of the artist.
     It doesn't pump in the most vibrant of
     colours.
          It doesn't wield a paintbrush to
          translate its thoughts.
               But it can see through the eyes of
               painters...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It doesn't conform to the conventional parameters of lyrics.
     It doesn't bind itself to the requirements
     of musical harmony.
          It doesn't follow the conventions of
          genres.
               But it sings its voice loud without
               restrictions of melody...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It's an open secret, that whispers in metaphoric codes.
     It's an exploding universe, that merges
     back into galaxies.
          It's a sought after painting, that boasts
          of unfathomable beauty.
               It's an everlasting song, that echoes
               within the poet that embodies...