without any sleep
what is real becomes the dream
you cannot wake from

I like to imagine you reading.
There in white sheets.
Two pillows underneath your blanket
of soft brown hair.
Your hair is what I admired
most of you.
The way it would waterfall
about your frame,
silhouetting your features in
chocolate cascades.

I like to imagine you reading.
There in white sheets.
With your newest RM Drake,
and his short sweet eurekas.
You loved to read him aloud to me.
You would smile slightly in a
smile saved for when you
read one that particularly
struck you the way that
only good literature can.

I like to imagine you reading.
There in white sheets.
Even though you never could
stomach what I read.
And I would get angry
because of the world's that
I wanted to show you
but knew that I couldn't.
You never shook hands with
Hem or Buk the way I wished
and wished that you would.
Sometimes your reading
was more honest.
Sometimes your emotion
was more true.

I like to imagine you reading.
There in white sheets.
I would sit across from you,
analyze and seek to
emulate every word
while you would read
and only feel it,
in a way I never could.

I like to imagine you reading.
There in white sheets.
Now that I have lost you
it helps me to do it.
I still have the word and
I still have books and the
world's I was left to travel alone

I like to imagine you reading.
There in white sheets.
I only hope one day
you may read this and
smile slightly in that way
that only you do.

I like to imagine
what would it feel like
tucked away in your arms.
Oops.

some days
i feel like i've got nowhere to go
some days
i think i have too many choices
none of which
i want.

most days
i'm alone
people make me tired
most days
anxiety
shrivels me
and depression
makes me stand still.

so i stay alone
not headed anywhere
scared and perpetually
lonely.

I am bone-white
Am I your skeleton
Or the ghost of a thousand
Pages torn from ivory books
Do you dare touch me --
Will I start to flake
Or crumble into chalk
Powder to be scattered by
The winds to the sky

I am coloured in
Or at least heavily painted
Into the tones of
A girl who could almost
Be real in the daylight
And my ostentatious use
Of lipstick slashes
My skilfully covered face
I am a walking mirage

In supplication I stretch
Cold hands to you
Or to the careless sun
I know not what I seek
Or if it even really exists
I walk in life like
Everything is certain while
I crack inside --
My mind is fragile at best

I am invisible
Am I your shadow now
In the dark I am
Completely indistinguishable
So weak is the fire
That once blazed in
My now glazed eyes
I have been entirely drained
I am my own vampire

I am the winter
Or at least a wintergirl
Ice forms my still heart
Or maybe it fills
The place where a human
Heart used to beat
Fluttering like robin's wings
Avoiding the snow --
I let the chill consume me

I am the best example
Of how you can waste a life
Of time unwisely spent
And all the wrong
Choices are embodied in me
Watching the sand slide
The hours slip by
Through my quivering hands
I am out of time.

Alone in a room full of people.
I am invisible to everyone but you.
Silence in a room full of noise,
yet I yearn only for the sound of you.