Christmas cheer this year
Is wrapped in tinsel and tears.
Another year has passed
Another year gone.
Each one as hard as the last.
I miss you now,
Just as much as then.
I put on a brave face,
I step into the crowd and,
I'm so out of place.
No family here,
No anchor to my past.
So every new year's as hard as the last.
I hope that you know
We love you so.
And every year we leave you a chair,
In Hope's that each year you'll be there.
There are days I miss you
So much I feel like I can't breath.
Days where I wonder how I'll survive.
With this pain in my chest.
Other days I can almost get by,
Without feeling angry or sad that you're gone.
Where each breath,
Feels like gravel in my lungs.
And I wonder if there will ever be a day,
Where it's a little easier to breath
A little easier to survive,
The loss of you.
And then it gets me thinking,
Is it worse to miss you so much
That the pain drives me to my knees.
Or would it be worse,
To be able to get through the day,
A day when the world is normal;
For most people routine
Is something they avoid.
The fear of being bored,
Being with someone who bores them.
However I spent my life in a shamble
Of never knowing what it would be like.
Every day a struggle of unknown.
Would my mother be the nice witch?
Or would the hag be the one
to come and play.
I spent years cowering in corners.
Ducking out of reach.
Trying to be invisible
So for me I desire routine.
A man who isn't afraid of ordinary.
Mundane, a simple life.
One where there isn't any questions
About who will show up to play.
Only the knowing that,
And every other day,
Will be ordinarily extraordinary.
That is a fairytale for a girl like me.
I saved the best for last.
I saved the end til now.
To mark the sky in oil paints.
Some days the world seems
To spin faster.
And I'm left feeling
Dizzy and confused.
Hoping to catch my breath
Before I collapse.
Sometimes missing you
Takes every molecule of oxygen
I have in my lungs.
And my lungs are devastated
Withered and gasping for air.
Some days I feel like
I'm sitting with my back to the fire.
And it's melting away
The layers of my skin.
But my face never reveals,
The pain, and undying loss.
Until one day,
Everyone I love will awaken.
To the charred ashes of my remains
And a note that says I'm sorry,
I didn't know how to show you.
I did not know what to say.
How do you describe a loss so great
With only words to say.
The scariest moment
Is realizing that I've forgotten
I've forgotten what it was like
To have you here.
And this new world
Where you aren't has become
A world I've become accustomed to.
My new norm,
And that is terrifying
You tell me how I write offends you.
That my use of memory,
It's weird for you to write of past loves,
As you are surrounded by new love.
I'm sorry my words,
My ability to relate to someone else,
Maybe help them with their struggles,
Outweighs that I may offend,
Another heart attached to mine.
So my words are silenced.
In fear of your offense.
My mind is empty of
And I am not sure if it is
Because I have nothing to say.
Or if I simply have so much to say
My thoughts are congealed like
Coagulated blood at a razor wound.
Some goodbyes are like butterflies,
So soft if you hadn't been watching,
You'd never have known they'd gone by.
Other goodbyes are as loud as fog horns.
Going off inside the confines of your head.
Some goodbyes are like yo-yos.
They come back a few more times,
Before they're truly gone.
Often goodbyes are as painful
As an electrocution in a downpour.
But sometimes they're as freeing
As the wind caressing your skin,
From the open windows.
Some goodbyes are heaven sent.
Others are hell bound.
But one thing they all have in common,
At the end of every goodbye,
It takes a small piece of you as a memory.
The effort to keep it..
Somedays is to much.
When I feel like the world,
Will crush me,
Beneath it's weight.
And I become an insignificant,
Ant beneath it's boot.
When I become,
Became, always have been,
The urge to fight,
Dwindles to an itch,
That's easily ignored.
When my existence,
Isn't felt by anyone.
The minimal fight I've got
Turns into a slow
Melancholy descent into,
Like stained glass windows.
Nearly translucent ,
With colorful artwork.
Imperfections in the glass,
Hidden behind colorful staining.
It's harder to see the major imperfections,
With pretty artwork upon the walls.
In the darkness I heard this keening.
A sounds so devastating.
As if they were dying from the inside out.
As if the world had swallowed them whole.
And it took me a minute,
That sound was coming from me.
I was the one dying.
But utterly and unwaveringly alive.
And it's like I wake up.
And realize all over again,
That you're gone.
I realize all over again,
what it means that you're gone.
And it's like a sucker punch,
To my stomach.
The air is ripped from my lungs.
And I'm left gasping for air.
I miss you.
And the weight of missing you,
Some days takes all the breath
From my lungs.
And I'm left gasping for air.
Convinced I'm dying with you.
You ask “What happened?”
My mouth goes dry.
My brain fogs over.
And I don’t know what to say.
I pull down my shorts.
Past my knees.
Hiding my shame.
Hoping the mere action will allow enough time,
To pass and you'll forget you asked a question.
“Are you scratching yourself again?”
And you give me an out.
The darkness of the night,
The only light from the fire.
Hiding my true shame
The depth and scar tissue only shadows.
And the multitude of scars hidden,
By the darkness.
And you answer for me.
So I say “Yes, not on purpose.”
A half truth.
I don’t Mean to, until I do.
I don't mean to, until I need to.
And I’m reminded of why I have to hide.
Because questions freeze my tongue.
And I’m ashamed enough for everyone.
The reason I spend my time in long shorts past my knees or simply just wear pants. I don't know how to answer, I don't know what to say.
In my life I've missed a lot of things.
I've missed my favorite pen I lost.
The way my door didn't squeak at the hinges.
I've missed friends i haven't seen in yours.
Stuffed animals long forgotten.
The old days,
The simpler times of being a child.
I've missed 90's snacks.
And 3D doritos.
I've missed phone calls,
Right and left turns,
And puns gone over my head.
But I never truly knew
What I miss really meant.
Until that I miss was you.
And you blink.
For a moment.
For a second
And everything can change.
In a moment
In the blink of an eye.
And we all must blink.
I'm devastation in cling wrap
Melted to the frame.
Popped balloons on birthdays.
A bankrupt business.
Giving out more then it has.
An empty O2 tank,
On the hip of a cystic fibrosis patient.
Useless extra weight.
Like an anchor
On a boat trying to set sail.
Remaining in the same spot.
That barely scrape the surface.
Only to be blown over
With a gust of insufficiency.
Leaking out life sustaining fluids.
With more effort to fail
Then to just
I think what hurt the most
Wasn't the fall.
Or the crash landing.
It was getting up
To witness the wreckage I'd created
On my way down.
I have stepped down from the
Pedestal in which you placed me.
With shaking knees
And sweaty palms.
And I hope that maybe now you'll see
Everything you thought I was
Was what you wanted not me.
I'm vividly aware
Of how influenced by
Your absense I gave become.
Every cough is a sign of death.
Ever upset stomach is
A reminder of your/my frailty.
Every previously unassuming illness
Has now become a warning
For every possible tragedy awaiting.
My life now a series of
Panic attacks brought about by
Possibility over probability.
What lose comes next?
Or will I be the lose?
And then I inhaled,
A deep earth quaking breath.
With an earth shattering roar!
Fire poured from my lips,
Smoke billowed from my nose.
I was no ones little lamb anymore!
My reactions are never
A disgust in you.
They are a disgust
Far to often we leave
after the love turns
To ash in our mouth.
And our lungs harden
Like cement in our chests.
And our hearts,
To diamonds under the pressure
And then shatter.
There are days when I feel as though
I may actually be okay.
It’ll be a good day where I am not
weighed down by anything in my brain.
I can function on a level that almost
But those days don’t last.
And they are not more then half my days.
Most days I spend in this state of mundane,
But on my dark days.
On the days when the sky has no light.
And my mind is as turbulent as the sea in a tsunami.
Those days tend to take up my months.
And I spend most days,
Trying not to drown.
But those good days.
God do those good days taste wonderful.
After months of tasting ash and debris in my mouth.
Those good days taste like sunshine.
And the ground beneath
My feet vanishes.
The air in my lungs
Evaporates within me.
The blood in my veins
Exsanguinates through my pores.
And my mind shrivels and expands
Like the core ready to explode.
And I’m dying.
5 things I can see:
The walls are closing in.
4 things I can touch:
The walls swirl in my vision
3 things I can hear:
The birds outside
The sound of my feet bouncing off the floor.
The walls move in and out of my vision.
2 things I can smell
The cut grass.
The sweat on my skin
1 thing I can taste:
The salt on my lips.
And then the walls vanish.
You will never truly die
Because a writer loved you
With such an immense force.
Every sunset is about you.
Every sunrise is too.
Every morning begins with you.
And every night ends there too.
Such a love will never die.
It only changes and molds.
To something we like to call grief.
Being so tired you can't get up.
You can't drag yourself out of bed.
Being so wound up you can't sleep.
You can't sit still without feeling like
Your skin will crawl off.
It's a weird feeling having both at once.
Like you can't move,
But under your skin in vibrating.
There is this innocence we have as children.
This fundamental right
to believe in a world where anything is possible.
That our daddy's can scare away any boogeyman,
Hiding under our beds or in our closets.
That the world is full of possibilities,
and there is endless time
covered in romantic notions.
But as adults we are no longer fundamentally innocent.
We are patchworks.
Taped in some spots that come lose all the time.
And sewn together in other spots,
That don't come undone all so often.
But we are broken and glued back together,
more often then even we are willing to admit to ourselves.
We harbor resentment and bias,
creating our own worlds in which the boogeyman
and not a soul can save us from him.
The part of us that was so eager,
The part of us that believed in a world of endless possibility
Withers and rots.
Leaving just the acidic taste of lack luster life.
Endless, monotonous daily tasks.
Craving the days when the world didn't feel like
The inside of stove with the pilot burning but out.
We are no longer the innocent.
We are the patchwork creation of a life,
That hasn't always been forgiving.
We are what our children think can save them from anything.
We are the boogeyman killer
The demon vanquisher.
Patchwork and all we may not be innocent,
But we are strong.
It is like running a 2 year long marathon
In all types of weather.
To see the finish line coming up
And when you get there
For a moment there isn't anyone there.
The streets are bare.
It is dead silent.
And all the anticipation
No one is there to even see you finish.
But then the fog clears
And you realize there are people here.
They were just hidden behind
The fog I can now say was grief.
Hitting the finish line
Without him here.
Was like reaching the end
And for a moment
I had to take the time to sit
With no one there
The silence his space that's now empty
The penance for his absence.
Slowly that grief lifts
And I am reminded of everyone else,
Who is here today.
Vibrate as if my
Muscles have been turned into
A 5 foot 3 ***** on extreme.
And my mind is thrown
Back and forth inside my skull.
What do I do
If I failed?
What do I do
If everything I have ever wanted
Slips between my fingers like
Not a month goes by without
The reminder that my dad
Isn't here anymore.
Not a day goes by,
That I am not reminded
Of the fact that I am
In all essence of the word an orphan.
With no family to rely on.
Not a second goes by
That I am not reminded
Of the fact that you
Are gone and I still need you.
And it's not easy,
Figuring who I am now,
Time doesn't pass unnoticed.
I am reminded of your absence
With every second you are gone.
Like a bad joke,
And I just don't get the punch line.
I often wonder what my life would have
Been like, had it started differently.
If I had a mother who adored me.
Gave me all the affection I wanted.
Protected me when I needed.
If I'd still be the same.
My tragic life of
Misfortune, neglect, pain,
Suffering, ****, abuse, and fear
Have shaped me
Created the girl that I am.
With a moral code so strong,
With standards about empathy and caring
So above standard.
I am reminded daily.
"Not everyone is like you.
Not everyone cares as strongly,
For so many as you do."
Would that girl be gone?
I believe the tragic life,
That i was given,
Was to create the woman that I am today.
And the outstanding and amazing
Father I was given,
Was to offset the mother I was denied.
And anyday of the week.
Any year in my life.
I'd take the life and father i was given,
Over a better life without him.
And without the woman that I became.
And it all went gray.
All the color in my life drained away.
The vibrancy in my words
Liquified and ran down the drains,
Of my life like tears.
My life became a black and white movie
With no sound.
A vestibule to my torment.
Then like a solar flare.
Blue awash my vision.
And slowly as it cleared there was you.
Blue in all your glory
In my world that had been gray for so long.
And the colors are slowly coming back.
In small solar flares at a time.
Glimpses of oranges, purples, and pinks.
But my favorite,
The vibrant life assuring ...
Who I was
I'll never be her again.
I'll never run my fingers
Across her framed walls.
Never again will
The troubles of today,
Be tomorrows problem.
I'll never get to smell
The scent of lilac from
The nose of the girl I used to be.
I'll never hear the words,
"Love ya" from the ears of the girl,
That's used to be me.
The girl I was before
I don't know that girl anymore.
I still struggle with
How loud my food is on my plate.
How it screams at me,
Pokes and prods my squishy parts.
I struggle with
The sweet endearment of my softness.
How he loves my "curves".
My mind screaming FAT.
Trying to destroy the sweet sentiment
That he so freely hands to me.
Like a rose he's specifically plucked for me.
To show me he thinks my "curves"
Are worth the fact that food
Makes me gag when I realize how
Fat I've become, and how
I struggle so badly with the number
On the scale.
I threw the **** thing in the trash.
Let's see how you torment me now,
When you can't flash the red numbers
In my face.
Daily to remember I am not
A number on a scale.
I am not a size in my jeans.
Not to scream at myself,
And starve myself back to "perfect"
Avoiding mirrors like snickers bars.
As if they may crack with my reflection.
At the hideousness of my softness.
Looking down,up next to, around
But never at the woman in the mirror.
At the curve of her waist.
Or the curves in her hips.
As if I dare look, if I dare
Accept that woman in the mirror
Accept the softness of her.
Maybe food wouldn't make me gag.
But I struggle.
I avoid full length photos like,
Maybe if i can't see "HER"
She doesn't exist.
The one thing about pain,
There is never an end
To the amount of material
We get from the experience.
Heartbreak is such
A wonderful Muse.
If the good didn't come with the bad.
How would we know the difference
Between the two?
If we never knew sorrow,
How would we know great joy?
If we never knew lose,
How would we know love?
We forget that one without the other,
Means there was never anything at all.
I would rather know grief,
Then never having loved.
And I would rather have known bad,
Then having never known the good.
There are two sides for a reason,
One without the other leaves us
With a monotone palate of expression.
Among the rubble of my life,
I have found bright green vines.
Vines that have slowly kept together
My world by bringing in all of my broken parts.
Who knew something known as a ****.
Would be my saving grace.
We should question less,
The beauty of something because people say it shouldn’t be so.
The beautiful things in my life,
Are often deemed weeds.
32 letters written in May.
Almost all about you.
That however is nothing new.
But all this writing.
Coming to terms,
One thing always rings true.
You were my very best friend.
God did i love you.
I'm almost 99% positive.
That on top of bringing me
Lucille, my savior with 4 legs.
You also brought me him.
Guiding us back to one another.
Where I always belonged.
So thank you.
For looking out for me,
Even after you left.
I'd expect nothing less,
Of my first and favorite savior.
Slightly off course.
With little remorse.
That is how I love you.
That is how I will always love you.
All the way.
Being sick isn't easy.
But even harder when,
From the outside looking in
Everything is perfectly fine.
But from the inside looking out,
The days are black as night.
And no one left the light on
And I cried:
What did I ever do
To deserve demons like you!
And my demons replied:
"Oh little girl can't you see,
Who you are you wouldn't be without me.
The night sky is cloudy.
Stars unable to be seen for miles.
The air is silent.
Except for the sound of the rain.
Not even the animals make a sound
The headlights point
To the woods.
The engine shut off long ago.
The only movement,
Is a single red ribbon floating in the wind.
The rain bouncing off the ground.
And a single displaced shoe
Laying on the ground.
I don’t know why it feels as though,
I have known you my whole life.
As if instead of getting to know a new person,
Rather I am remembering all of the things,
another me has forgotten.
As if maybe we have been here before.
Maybe in another life,
Where our stars;
Crossed paths once again.
Destined to be no matter what
Path we take in our lives.
And I’m not one to believe in the fates,
Or that we have soul mates that are ours.
I do believe in connections.
Soul connections where people can recognize,
Another soul that matches theirs.
Like the internal wirings of our bodies say,
“Oh hey, I know you.”
And then those connections stick.
And we are drawn closer to one another.
Maybe not forever,
Maybe for only moments.
But the connections of the soul,
Are ones that we remember,
Randomly for no reason.
Even if it was only a quick Hello in an elevator,
Never to see each other again.
We remember them.
We remember you.
How long is forever?
A second or two.
Maybe as long as
It takes to say thank you.
We spend hours fretting
Over moments and things
only to realize,
We’re only on strings.
Being pulled and twisted.
Into the will of other’s desires.
Running all over
Just trying to put out their fires.
The wills of the world.
Sitting on our shoulders.
Clogging our throats
As if we’ve swallowed boulders.
Trying to please a world
We do not understand.
Living in fear
Of what else will be banned.
Covered in fear
Drowning in doubt.
Surrounded by lies
We can’t figure out.
Broken glass liters the ground.
****** footprints all around.
I search for peace,
Within this release.
Only for a moment I’m free.
Floating among the clouds carefree.
Then the anger, doubt, and worry.
Cover me in smoke in a flurry.
Reminding me of what I’ve done/
How this would hurt everyone.
And once again the blood on the floor,
Isn’t such a relief anymore.
And my short escape from here
Just as quickly will disappear.
Among my many other mistakes.
Like my own mental outbreaks.
Why can I never remember this part.
Where all the relief just falls apart.
Turning to regret.
Forgetting it all and hit….
Tell me your secrets.
The ones you're to afraid to speak.
Tell me the darkest parts of your mind.
Where the dark parts of you lurk.
Use me like a vault.
No one will ever get in.
Your secrets are safe with me.
I'll never let them see.
Let me be your secret place.
To place all your wordy posessions.
Don't hold yourself do tightly.
When I'm willing to be your ear.
There's no point in hiding
When spoken it'll only disapear.
Beneath the vault in me,
Where all my deepest darkest secrets no one will ever see.
I have had passion.
I have had over the top,
Bring you to your knees love.
Meaning past tense.
Because passion fades.
It is like a mirage.
Fading the closer to it you get.
An ambient light,
Gone as soon as you near.
I have had utterly devote love.
I'd do anything for you.
I'd be any one for yoh.
Had, past tense.
The thing with all that.
All the things the books write out
In love stories.
Created to make you believe
That real love.
True love should be
This all consuming love.
That drops you to your knees
This passion you can not control.
That's not real love.
That isnt true love.
Those are fairytales
With fairytale creates.
For children to learn that love isnt scary.
Real love is hard
It's a choice.
It's annoying, and aggravating.
Its smiling but also wanting to slap them.
It took me a long time to learn.
Real love is a slow burn.
That ignites randomly.
And you're consumed with it.
But itll burn down.
Smolder instead of ignite.
And you fall into this blissful.
Filled with everyday tasks.
And in between the ordinary.
Are these extraordinary
Ignitions of passion.
That is what true love is.
Ordinary moments of choice
With extraordinary moments