And then autumn came
and it was her time
to shake the weight she bore
just as the trees did.

I could never tell you
exactly what's going on inside my head,
so I'll write instead.
Drown my thoughts in paper & lead.
Keep my hands alive,
and my expression dead.

The weight of almost thoughts sink my legs into the Earth

While the almost words balloon red in my cheeks and ears

Because this ****** Doo quicksand ***** at my torso but not any more than my desire to go under

I'm going to a doctor soon, or a counselor, or a friendly stranger, or whatever, and I worry about the verdict to be passed over my head

Like the pills they prescribe will meet in combat the almost thoughts that turn my brain to a battlefield that just wants to go home but already is

Like my serotonin vocal cords that softly saunter siren songs should be given a megaphone to tell all the almost words that their echo chambers just got nuked from orbit

The fingers that send daily update texts are the same ones that want to let go of the steering wheel, not because I want to die, but because I don't want to be the one responsible for hurting you

So I'll bludgeon the sand with my two left feet until I turn it into enough glass to build a shade-stained stairwell back into my regularly scheduled programming

"I'm not there yet", I say
"Ah, but almost", I think

lying awake
and looking for all of the answers
in my ceiling.

asking why
it has to be me who feels this way
               (feeling completely lifeless, and absolutely hopeless)

asking You
               “haven’t you taken enough from me?”
               “why must you haunt my dreams?”

and the only bit of light i have
comes from the streetlight by my window,
it shines on You.

and from the corner i hear You,
with a vacant and harrowing tone.
and the detached vowels and consonants
echo throughout the hallways.
they hang themselves on the wall
as a reminder.

               “they say nothing kills a man faster than his own head”.

Do I choose my dream
or does it choose me?
am I the water or the stream?
which of us dwells in fantasy?

Am I the stem
or the flower?
the clock's seconds--hand
or the beat of the hour?

When needed, you took a lighter and lit me
           When my scent filled the area,  you kept me close for hours
&  Whenever I got too hot
           You dared to bring yourself closer to the heat...
           So close I could feel the tension from your fingertips
           Your skin melted from the touch of me
           Your eyes grew wider as I got hotter

           When needed, you lit me so you could relax
            I sat while you leaned your head back and closed your eyes
            I bought a special aura to your imaginations, your dreams
          
            Then it became draining and painful
            I was too suffocating for you to be around


           So you blew me out and closed the lid
                                                             & never lit me again...

Love
Is not a quiet thing.
you cannot deny it
It’s something you feel in your bones
Something that anchors you down
Plants your feet into the ground
Makes you sturdy and strong.

Love
Is also a gentle thing.
It warms your insides
And floods your heart
It’s something you can feel radiating off your skin
It makes everything seem alright

Love
Can be painful
It rips your chest apart
It wakes you up in the middle of the night,
Screaming out for the other half of you
It is the tidal wave that forces you back under the covers in the morning

But love
Is also strong
It is an iron fist
That chains your heart to the other
It is waking up after a heated fight
And not giving up
But trying again