Dear Me,
It's you.
We are us.
Stop demolishing the
Foundation we built below us.
Don't demolish years
Of growth for moments,
Of doubt from others.
You, me, us
Are enough.
Love,
    Me

Reverberating within myself
A constant vibration
Internally decaying
The only way out
Is through my
Written rot.
Just a mess of decomposition.
Left for everyone else
To read.

Frozen wasteland
Of human remains
Where there once
Were dandelion kisses
And lovers in the grass.
Now there only
Lies ash.

It coats my throat
And fills my lungs.
A copper taste
Forever in my mouth.
Left questioning exactly
Where in my life
This anxious
Wasteland of recurrent
Depression was decided.

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.
Devouring them.

And it took me a minute,
To realize.
That sound was coming from me.
I was the one dying.
But utterly and unwaveringly  alive.

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
is everyone.
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.

I wish I could say
Life is easier with you here.
But,
Depression doesn't work that way.
No amount of love i have,
Will change how I
See and feel the world.
But when the darkness clears,
And I can see and feel the world
With the clarity of normalicy.
You make that,
The most magical time
It could possibly be.
And for me,
That is enough to stave,
The darkness.
To get me through
Right back to you.

An artist can create
A master piece.
And everyone will flock to their work.
Marvaling in the beauty.
And at the same time
They've walked by the
Subject of that artwork
For days, months, years.
Never noticing
Never seeing
The sheer beauty.
Because only in artwork
Everything is beautiful.

Once you become someone's muse
You will forever be
Beautiful and remembered.

There is no such
Thing as:
Unrequited love.
Only love,
Never meant for you.

The hardest part,
of your dying.
was being able to survive.
Being the one to
let you die.
even if it meant
you wouldn't suffer.
letting you go....
I still haven't
and I don't know if I
actually survived.

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.
Going nowhere.
Remaining in the same spot.
Growing  roots
That barely scrape the surface.
Only to be blown over
With a gust of insufficiency.
Inadequate valves
Leaking out life sustaining fluids.
With more effort to fail
Then to just
Let go.

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.

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.

Happy mother's day?
My mom taught me what alcohol tolerance was by 9.
That some nights if I didn't make dinner,
I wouldn't eat.
She taught me how to be a light sleeper,
By passing out drunk with lite cigarettes.
My mother taught me,
Boys font like fat girls, and you're def bigger then me.
She taught me how to hate myself,
But still love her.
My mother taught me how to be strong,
By making it the only way to survive her
Never ending drunken rampages.
She taught me early,
Not love,, not her daughter comes before the drink.
She taught me how to take care of her.
Make sure she got home from the bar at 1am,
Unscathed from the journey,
And still be up in time for school.
She taught me how to live off little sleep,
And even less attention.
Early she taught me,
I was no more special than coat hanger on the wall.
She taught me your mother's cigarette smoke,
Will cling to your clothing strongly,
You'd have to fold them with dryer sheets inside.
She taught me,
That I'd stay for her to make sure she was okay,
All the while destroying myself.
She taught me how to love someone,
Even when you don't like them.
She taught me how to be respectful,
Even when those people don't deserve respect.
Recently she taught me something else.
Sometimes those people you love,
Will never love you enough to not destroy you,
As they destroy themselves.
She taught me we all have a breaking point.
A point of no return.
And that sometimes it is better alone,
To be an orphan.
Rather then allow them the satisfaction in your torture.

She sat upon the world.
Looking down at the souls,
So far from her fingertips.
And she smiles knowing
Each one will one day,
Taste her.
Feel her love.
Death is promised,
To all.

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,
Another universe.
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.
However,
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.
Those Connections,
We remember them.

We remember you.

We drown in the waves,
Of our despair.
A constant pull,
Into the darkness.

A constant fight,
To stay out of the dark undertown.
To keep my head above water.
Some days the pull is,
So strong I almost drown.
Other days,
I can float upon the surface of the waves.

But always my thoughts
Drift to you.
Always,
Only a word away from tears.
And my tears add,
To the bottomless ocean of grief,
Threatening to drown me.

32 letters written in May.
Almost all about you.
That however is nothing new.
But all this writing.
Coming to terms,
Sorta, Kinda.
One thing always rings true.
You were my very best friend.
and
God did i love you.
Also,
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.

You tell me how I write offends you.
That my use of memory,
Insults you.
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.

May is grey.
but for me
Every day is grey
Surrounded by reminders.
Myself,
I am a reminder.
Of everything you were.
Everything you did.
May is graduation.
It's supposed to be happy.
And I am
Happy.
But my happy has,
A black hole of anger,
and sadness in the middle
And I fall into it daily.
Sometimes hourly.
And May isn't as happy.
As it should be.
Could have be.
If you were here with me.
Grey in May.
Grey all Day.
Every day
In every way.
I think of you
And miss you too.

My control has become
the thing I grasp onto
My OCD on high alert
Rewriting a planner
13 times in 6 months.
More rewriting then months.
But the mistakes
grate at me
rubbing me raw.
The white out,
Like a black mark
on my life.
Another reminder
that I failed
to save you.
and then I realize
I have no control
my life run by failed
attempts to remain flawless.
only to be reminded by whiteout.
That I failed you
I couldn't save you.
And I stayed.
I let you go
And I stayed.
Like a black stain on me,
I stayed.

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.
Use me,
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.

My Lifeline
Once upon a time
it used to be my dad.
He was my safety.
The person I could count on
to have my back.
"I've got you."
But he's gone.
And somewhere along the way
he handed you the keys
to my walls.
And gave you the manual to protect me.
Somehow you took over
where he left the
car running.
And as you learn the way
you've slowly made it possible
for me to trust someone
other than him.
And now
you've become my person
My "I've got you."
The person to bring me back.
From the darkness of my own mind.
You've become....
                                My Lifeline.

Will the thoughts of you,
Ever become less.
How can i still love you,
With our relationship in such a mess?

When do i get to move on.
Set free from the chains,
That you put on me.
When am i set free?

I hate that i still love you.
That i choose you daily.
Even when,
You are no longer a choice.
What kind of voice,
Does that give me?

Why can't i let go?
Why cant i see,
That you've moved on,
You no longer want or need me!

You'll forever be,
My never ending love


Which means,
You'll forever be,
My never ending heartbreak.

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

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.

Green eyes
Drowning in human lies.
Swimming in sin,
Dying from within.

The sky has always been
A place of solace for me.
A comforting place
A warm embrace.

From my bedroom floor
As a teenager
Broken and bleeding
Watching the stars and the moon
Praying for no more.

My bedroom window
As a new mother
Just begging her daughter
To go to sleep
Swinging back and forth
In the moonlit glow that fell upon my floor.

And here I stand now
On my porch steps
Looking up at a sunset
So vibrant and warm
In my heart
I know it's you
You're watching somehow.

And when I'm old and grey
And my eye sight is gone
My hearing lost
The memories of every single
Night sky
Sunset and sunrise
Will  keep my solace
Until I leave this place.

Do you know what it's like to drown
With your head above water?
Like no matter how hard the struggle.
Something always has your feet.
Pulling,      
                     dragging,
You down into the depths.
And,
Before you know it
You've
        Been
      Swept
           So far
                  Down
                        You can't
                              See
                                   The
                              Light
                 And,
Hope has no pull
       To save you.
But,
      You never give up.
Just in case,
                 The end...
                          Is worth the struggle!

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.

And all at once
It hits me
One look
And how much
I truly love you
Drowns me.
And I'm soaked
To the bone.
Never having known
This immense a love.

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
resembles normal.

But those days don’t last.
And they are not more then half my days.
Most days I spend in this state of mundane,
existing.

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.

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.

Breathless
Coy
Slightly off course.
Belligerant
Fumbling
With little remorse.
That is how I love you.
That is how I will always love you.
All the way.

My days consist of
an Acrobats walk
along this black hole
within my chest.
Balancing among the rubble
within my heart.
Stumbling into its blackness to drown.
But climbing out
to walk along the edges again.
A little further away from the edge each time.
My grief a balancing act.
One where
During the day I circle
the edge of the darkness.
But at night
I fall into the darkness.
Only to resurface again in the morning.

Like everything
I never knew
I don't know
Who I am
Without you.

~TMH

The worst part about
Fighting a war on the inside.
There is no place to throw
The carnage when it's over.
It just sits on the inside,
To rot.

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.