I have squandered so much energy
hoping to understand you,
that I regretfully left none for myself,
and anything learned is naught;
next time leave me a blank letter
since that gives more substance
than simply walking away.

I wasted my time,
Trying to figure you out
But to my dismay
You found nothing to say.

I don’t know why
I thought that maybe I’d try
To talk to you soon
But that plan was doomed.

So I waited it out
Took small steps in the crowd
Hoped you would look back
Yet it wasn’t like that.

Oh why did I think
That maybe it’d work
If I just put in
More than it’s worth?

Don’t think twice
I made mistakes that aren’t nice
And I know I’ll keep trying
Though your presence is like ice.

Have you ever woken up inside a flashback?
Do you know how it feels to be pushed down into your own body after years of being pulled apart?

I awoke many times in a haze,
wondering what year it was;
months ago I finally came to and I thought I was trapped in 2014
and instead of waking to go to school,
like I was so convinced of,
I went to work and went through the motions of something I somehow knew all too well.

How did I go so many years in this separation of self?
I awoke to all of this abundance and responsibility I don't remember creating.
I could have cried out screams of mercy
for whatever stole all these years
to give them back.

I typed away at my computer,
but it all felt so foreign.
I was supposed to be in high school;
I'm supposed to be myself.

I've awoken many times in absolute fear,
not even sure who I am,
where I am,
what time period I'm in.
It's terrifying and I'm so tired of being ripped apart from reality like this.

Have you ever been consumed by a flashback?
Hurled and spit out by the jaws of the past
and regurgitated into the present?
I've never understood why it has to keep happening.

I am tired of living in waking memory;
I want this tortuous cycle to end.

Don't tell me the dragon's been vanquished,
surely he has more fight in him!
I would have guessed
he'd shoot me another riddle,
make me run in circles
wondering who would die first;
I would have thought that
I'd spend my whole life
with a sword in hand,
chasing after him.

Is it true?
Has he fallen off his plateau, his crevice
crumbled before him?
That brute lizard finally gave up?

What's left behind him,
I'd try to see and delve into his caves
searching for clues if I believed it,
but something makes me think that
just because he's dead to me,
doesn't mean he's been vanquished.

Don't tell me the dragon's been vanquished,
it's surely not that easy!
I had thought that maybe,
he wouldn't give up his bed of lies,
tossing and turning,
his chest bellowing with flames and smoke,
I expected a temper tantrum or
roaring deceit, screaming acid and blood,
and I imagined my sword
falling to his feet.

A smile so large, I think my heart leaps,
pulsing so fast to the loud hums and taps;
it can't take the rush.

My jaw locks, a warm, twangy bite;
with my eyes so wide, I'd gasp,
but my breath hides, trapped behind,
and no amount of gulps can free me.

No one warned me about healing,
and that when you begin to let go,
it means working through all the things
you ignored along the way:
every weeping wound,
every halted, furious scream,
every memory you tried to forget,
and even the things you never knew
you'd felt in the first place.

To let go of everything that no longer serves,
I have to go back in time
and tell myself how it is all okay now,
and hope that will be enough
to set me free again.

Dance, dance, dance,
string me up,
rip my heart
and puncture my lungs,
pull me close and
swing me around,
watch as your little star
drops to the ground.

You remind me of a man I had once written of,
so intangible I hadn't realized
it was true.

His eyes a vibrant brown, haughty,
full of bravado; a confidence
so blaring it could set the world on fire,
a jab at the veneer separating excellence and perfection.

I question if I created him myself, or if he rest a portrait on my page.

Their names synonymous.

To see such a creation living,
silencing,
I think, maybe, the ink never reached the paper,
and he knows.

Wasteful breaths,
a hyperventilating accordion of pressure,
my heart compressed
like extra pixels in an image, a squeezed lemon,
but unfortunately no lemonade,
only hazy vision.

I can’t move.
Moving only makes me
step closer to death,
or so I imagine,
as my heart spikes thorns inward,
every dagger ever stuck in my back
shoots down my throat
and returns to the heart it aimed for
originally.

I’m so broken.

Clammy palms, cracked nails,
dilated eyes all a mess,
and the shakes,
oh, the shakes,
an earthquake from within
brings much devastation again,
and just like every weak building does,
I collapse to my knees,
barely gripping onto the counter,
praying that if God pities me enough,
he’d let me go.

Why do I always stop?
Why do I hold my breath?

My mind is screaming to tell you everything.

How when it's quiet, and the lighting is just right, your hair shines in an almost golden brown halo at the top,
and how when you speak, the sound drifts off into a slight hum,
but when your eyes meet mine I cannot say it.

How when I think of you, I hide my face in my frigid hands and I feel my cheeks run hot with blood,
and how much I've always loved your determined face, with furrowed brows and pursed lips,
but instead I look at you with a meek, silent smile.

How I nearly tear up at the thought of my life leading up to this moment with you,
and that it makes up for every time I have ever felt afraid or broken,
but I never muster up the courage to tell you...

How the reason I always look at you is because I want to appreciate all of you, and I'm afraid I'll miss something,
and I wish I weren't so shy as to always write you love letters and poems, instead of verbalizing it to you,
but I always get stuck.

How I thought today twenty times over that I wished to say I love you,
and that I think your smirks might just **** me,
and maybe your hands are just feathers because they move so gracefully across the piano keys,
but I didn't mention it.

How could I?
I'm a never-ending trainwreck of the mouth.
Once I start, I can't finish; I'll never say it all.
So I don't.

But....
I want to.
I want to look you in the eyes and instead of fumbling with my hands, my ring, or looking down and away from you, I want to clearly say this...

How the only thought in my mind that kept me from shaking incessantly during an anxiety attack was you,
and how in the silence of my room I just knew life would get better, IS better,
and how you keep me from disrespecting myself,
and how I think I couldn't imagine a lifetime where I didn't meet you,
oh I couldn't, I wouldn't.

How the other day, when I was folding my clothes, I stopped.
I felt a rush of joy overcome me and I just didn't tell you, I couldn't even say it out loud to myself,
but **** it, I'm in love with you.

From week in to week out,
the cracks in foundation do form,
and the ceiling begins to leak;
should those in the castle's embrace choose to evacuate?

The lovers huddle in the stillness of their room and contemplate their position,
but something crumbling so quickly needs an equally quick decision.

Dare they take a break and flee from the impending ruin?
And what does it say about them if the structure of their loving home won't support them?

And if the lovers falter
from the tower to the uneasiness below,
will there be enough arms to catch them both?

Why did I think you could cure
all the aches and pains
I had held for years and more,
when you were never my remedy?

Every dose I took
was another ******* placebo,
and you'd have thought
I could tell this treatment wasn't working for me.

Silly little floater,
a ghost memory,
words of silence
dissipated into my head
like melted goo;
it wants to knock
but it's been forgotten
and the door hinges are rusty,
old, practically archaic;
it floats by my eyes
and I could almost taste
the sting and tang of what happened
yet it's nothing but a floater,
a little mix up in the view,
nothing to remember.

Wretched time loop
what a good song
I have never heard it
you should hear it
it’s my favorite
who knows what it’s about
anguish
man, check out this song
I have never heard it
I think it is familiar
Hey did I ever show you?
Oh boy, what a lovely tune
wish I heard it sooner
have you ever seen it?
You gotta let me show you
Whoa no, I never showed you
Have I ever seen this artist?
What is this about?
It’s good because I like it
it is a little sad
I’ve never heard it
You should show me this song.

What if you were to see my tears of joy, instead of sadness?
What if I were to bask in the warm waves and let them consume me?
What would the world be like if I could branch out my wings and fly like this more often?

Would you even recognize me?
Would you understand all that I missed during my times of sorrow?
Would you notice when I am reborn into happiness, and will you remember it too?

God, I hope so.

This feeling is transformative,
to be alive like this,
and it is so comforting to be
held in the universe's embrace.

Perhaps you'll get a taste of who I've always been.

I'd be such a good girl for you,
making sure to cram and compartmentalize every piece of me
into whatever shape you'd prefer;
I've never known any better.
It's what I've always been told.

If I'm not here to make you happy,
then what is my purpose?
I've never known to take care of myself,
but I would take care of you in a heartbeat.

I don't know how to stop,
I don't know how to love correctly,
and I definitely don't know how to be loved.

If I keep giving,
what does it mean if you give back?
I think I'd feel nauseated knowing
you spent so much energy into me.
I'm not your sink, I'm the output source
and I'd never let it be the other way around.

It's all too much to handle;
the tangible and intangible
taunt and mock me
and the vibrations of the room shine through
this lowly, softened flesh of mine
as if to punish my existence.

Have you ever seen a tap dancer
sit on a stage
with their legs crossed,
their metal plated shoes
facing away,
and their sound stolen?

No?
Well, have you ever seen a girl
sit on her bed
with her legs crossed,
her feet tucked, hiding,
buried away,
and her voice silenced?

A scary thought,
my dear,
is that you’re the only reason for living.

I promise I’ve tried finding some other reason,
hoping I could forge a healthier relationship
with life,
but I’d sooner have death than live without you.

Not even art makes me alive anymore.
All I have is you, you know,
and my friends would hate to hear
how much I long for death or for you;
life gets to choose what path I take,
and I hate it.


At this rate, I’m scared of failing,
I am trying so desperately
to pretend I know what I’m doing,
to pretend I still have a drive,
but I’m only here because you’re still here.

I love you.

Cursed affixation
Taking in a drove of men
Who think they are above you
But somehow adore only you
And thinking maybe you’re in
On a joke that only you two know
Your wits supposedly matched
Your laughs the same horrible mocking tone
Your eyes faded in a facade
But the games are fun, aren’t they,
For an idiot like you?
Everyone hates the bully
Until you are one
And you feel the bitter tastes
Together
And you think you are a part of something
That somehow you two are stronger
Smarter
Better than before
But you’re both nothing but leaves
Destined to fall off and crumble
For the winds to drag you away.

These powerful pulls
To one another, and the filth
You both hide in
Triggers one to wonder how you can ever leave the cycle
Of the man who is a narcissist
Or the girl who thinks she is special
Because she is the only one he “respects”.

Take a walk
Break the false bond of strength
And realize that isn’t you
It doesn’t have to be you
Don’t make an addiction to
Addictive personalities
And let it soil the girl
Who wanted proper love
With a softer heart
Who sips quietly from life
On her own, safely;
She needn’t give another man
An ego trip
Because her fragile soul gives out
Too much love
And finds fascination in the grandiose self,
Something with a strong aura
But lacks true power,
Isn’t worth the degradation of yourself.
Love never hinges on something so broken.

Every time I think of you
I imagine myself transported
to this notion we had of ourselves
together in the woods,
but somehow alone,
and I'd kiss your lips every morning
but it'd be bittersweet,
and I loved bitter so much at the time
that I'd melt anyway
and somehow in the woods,
in this tiny cabin,
you'd be able to hide from all your sins
and maybe you could protect me
from the bears
from the harsh weather
and from you.

A large crash;
Everything comes at once,
Drags you by your chest
and pulls you in,
Makes you relive every moment
And with scents
Breaking past your hyposmia,
Troubled voices crowding
In your ears, in your throat,
And you remember it all
Thumping in your chest,
Making you so ill,
Always sick, always prying
At your weakened body,
But you’ll forget it again,
Hoping it goes away,
And it will always find you
In hot flashes,
To drag you by your feet,
Asking you to see again.

These turbulent smashes of a hammer
smacking down and cracking
through my hollowed ears
destroy my ability to breathe,
and continue to torment me as I walk;
I hear everything,
the sound of ever-impending weeping, wheezing,
or perhaps the sound of scrapes skidding
down my legs,
but nearly everything makes a sound
and it forever engulfs me;
I can't be in these spaces anymore,
even imaginary sounds puncture through.

I never knew I could feel so shattered,
simply by leaving your room,
by hanging up a call too soon,
having my throat burning and clogged with a vigorous pain,
something that boils inside me
every time we have to walk away,
and I never knew I could miss someone while being just a foot astray,
a step too far has me clenching my hands together,
biting my lip,
trying to understand why I feel so strained;
why did no one tell me I could miss you like this?

Every time I push people away,
I wait for the door to rat-a-tat-tat
and revolve back into my face;
I had never considered how often I steal opportunities away from myself by running.

I run until I collapse,
and I've stolen compassion, and understanding with every half-sprint I take away from everyone that has ever cared for me,
because what do you do when they genuinely love you?

I don't know why it is so hard to believe that they could love me,
or that I am not wasting their time by asking for help,
but I know that I live in this doublethink,
where I both love myself, but no one else could possibly love me too.

Haven't you seen me like this before?
I'm on the brink of understanding
I have a difficult time loving myself in actions, just in theories in my head.
This is why I run like this,
and by constantly shielding myself from perceived danger,
I am actually blocking potential kindness too.

If I shut off the danger and the kindness, what will I have left for myself? Nothing.
I can't keep doing this,
I am going to have to let them in.

Recall for me
all I cannot retrieve;
I’ve become so fractured
that the rain has washed me out
and the clouds have fogged
images to dust,
leaving my senses rusty,
taunting me with flashes
of lost recollection.

I look at you, and I feel the wind;
the leaves swirl in colors I can't remember.

And for a moment, I believe it.

Leaves for a second, a chilled frost overcomes us;
and you're gone,
but the wet, browned pallet, hollowed by time, remains,
taunting me.

You held back with so much tension,
every time you laid a finger upon my skin,
and I never realized how much
you must've been fighting
your compulsions
to break through me.

I dreamt that I saw you
barreling towards me in a sea of people,
and with your arm extended out
to touch me, pushing past me,
and you looked back
with bewildered eyes,
scared, confused,
but not knowing;
I only recognized you when I awoke,
and I'm sure
you'd never remember who I was.

Disgusting,
tongue stuck out,
nose closed;
she always hated it,
and no matter what
we’d press and press,
forcing her to stomach
things she never wanted,
smelling that sourness,
those vinegar troubles
and tangy juice
covered in coercion;
we’d ask her time and time again
and never once did we respect her wishes.

Why must I consume?
is it not enough to exist,
is that not enough consumption?
How greedy it is
to expect me to take
more than I desire,
to force me to eat another
out of house and home.
That’s kind,
so very kind,
a sickly kind,
the sort of “kindness”
that destroys marriages,
uproots families and destroys psyches.
I’m not like that,
I don’t want to be controlled.

But we kept on shoveling
these aged, old traditions,
those nasty pickled ideas,
those greedy, grubby hands
of control over her,
and she could never let herself forgive.

The troubled serpent seeks me
in the dimness of the night,
in the luminescence of stars,
in the hallowed shadows;
it asks me to relive
and I beg of him,
saying,
was eve eating the apple
not enough?

I don’t know of what sins
you think I may have
or will commit,
but must I, too,
suffer for the ones others did?
Why do I have to constantly
be in a headspace that allows
for these things to happen
over and over,
when I was not the one
to keep taking bites of forbidden fruits?

Cold as ice and cold as sin
a man that lost shouldn't've been
but he played his cards
and he played them right
cause nothing touches a man
cold as ice.

I tricked myself
into trusting that I mattered
as much as I thought you did
and that every gentle touch
meant you'd work to be
everything you said you would
and that each fragile whisper down my neck
was a promise
of affection,
not a signal of coercion,
not a white lie to keep me down,
to have me resting next to your body
in shallow warmth,
lost in translation.

Eyes are windows to the soul,
but you always put down the shutters,
closed them tight when you smiled
and told me it was normal;
I believed it.

Dream me a dream
of a time I have forgotten
Where your breath ran warm
And sticky against my skin,
or your laughter floated,
Trailed into my ears like
My favorite song,
And your arms gently, playfully, brushed
Against my own
Just so I can find it in me
To forgive you for what you’ve done.

Levitated silhouettes
suspended by the throats
you’re surely a goner
when your own shadow croaks.

You’re so lovely,
you warm me up like a kettle,
so don’t be surprised
when I look at you and whistle.

Promise me a rose,
with its subtle, sweet scents,
its soft touch,
and its beautiful presence,
oh, and please,
don't you worry,
I'm well aware
your promises always wilt away.

Dejected, I've detected
that the things people say
can't make sense anymore;
God, it's hopeless, I'm lost,
and maybe someone out there
can tell me where it went wrong.

I want to believe him,
yes, I do,
but who's the fool here
to think it's true?

Please forgive me,
those of you who come close,
for not taking chances
in letting myself loose;
I'm just frightened
by what I've left behind
and I'm just frightened
of what lies I might buy.

I used to remember in images,
Movies, flipbooks, flying across my eyes,
But then I saw haze,
And the foggy screens became thicker,
So the grime and dust became darkness,
And through the darkness became words,
Disconnected, discolored, disjointed
Streams of words,
And so all my memories lost
Vision, became nothing but recalled statements,
So I could tell you yes it happened,
But how or why or what was sifted through a blender,
Chunked into a garbage disposal, and lost somewhere,
yes, the memory exists as a statement,
A declaration it occurred but oh so loosely,
You can’t be sure of it.

Dreams wash over my eyes
as my body trembles in sweat
beneath my sheets
chilled and starched
and with a resemblance
to the space of night
jumbled with stars from
the galaxy's jar;
left with my sputtered breaths
declaring disarray with
what the world has cooked
and what the conscience designed.

It's always been a struggle
to make my mind and soul agree,
and maybe that's how it's supposed to be,
but honey, let me tell you,
I've felt things that just didn't sit well,
and thought things that did,
and thought things that just didn't sit well,
and felt things that did,
but for once, sweetheart,
my two halves can agree,
cause I don't feel any dissent when I say,
you're the only one for me.

Warm color palettes can't cover up a cold palette heart.

I saw your name
again
in an old file
and I was told to dispose of it.

I couldn't help but feel so empowered
and yet oh so very vulnerable;
I'm a soft clam inside a hard shell,
but every time I think of this past you,
you've already pried me open and prodded
at my fleshy underbelly,
my most private spaces.

I was given the control
to take away another memory of you
from a place, we used to inhabit
together
and as much as I should've enjoyed that,
it only made me sad.

I'd like to be buried in sand
so when an archeologist, an excavationist, or a child
walks into the sandbox,
they might believe my body is a hidden treasure,
and for once,
I would be remembered.

I must be a vampire
because every time I peer into
my tall, demanding mirror
I don’t see myself
in any reflection
bouncing back.

These puppet string are held by me,
I’d say I’ve lost my grip,
this autopilot hand-fidget has really gone to ****.

I don’t feel the same anymore,
nothing bubbles in my chest,
but who’s to say I cannot feel
if its only feeling is in my head?

Hello, how are you?
I’m doing simple math,
The strings aren’t taut and funny how
every movement is an act.

The doll’s alive, and she does dance
but watch at your discretion,
because if you knew her once before
she isn’t the same person.

They say she has it bad,
Taking down the boundaries
She never really had,
Yes, it’s all a bit lethargic,
following what was said,
Trailing eyes and messages
and the overwhelming dread.

Let it down slowly,
It’s a phrase she has heard,
And maybe they’d realize her turn for the worse,
Lethargy, it’s an eight letter word,
But it rules the innards and the outer,
It’s just something she’s learned.

Cold nose,
Cold hands,
Cold lips,
I can’t help if my
fingertips
want to
grab onto your hips;


Don’t think
I don’t know
How much you
want me,
baby...
just me and you
and all this cold
is surely worth the waiting.

I know my kisses feel
like ice, or snow; and maybe
you’d find out that
I want your love
and find out what
we can be.