"I held your hand for 39 years, because
i felt the heat of your Heart.
Only a fool would let go."

I remember when all our guns were sticks
I remember when pine cones were grenades
I remember when we always got back up
And war was just a game we played

I have had writers block, for the longest time
I cannot seem to get words out, that rest on my mind
They grow heavier, with every passing moment
As if I do not tell them to you, they will leave nothing left
They weigh down on my soul, desiring to be heard
I begin to write you this letter, and so I tend to get better
Then I begin to wonder, how has a poet become so dependent
Speaking to this impeding entity, one who consists only in my head
I have no idea who you are, but I do know I need to write
I may never meet the one's I vent to, but thank god they exist
My writer's block ceases and you are the one's I can thank

You are the worst nightmare
A cruel vision of abandonment
You appear as a dream come true, or you try to
then you turn into the darkest version of The Knight
a scared, a scarred little girl could ever imagine

You are the worst nightmare
whispering it's just natural for you to happen
That she should just forget and get over you,
that you are you and nothing would change
"So little girl stop your drama"

You are the worst nightmare
For after that you keep appearing in different nights
screaming everything changes, like feelings
But dear nightmare do you really have one of those now
when you only turn around justifications to save yourself

From your worst nightmare
That you are you -
a (k)nightmare
that little girl will cry over
because for her you were the most beautiful

Oh you are the worst nightmare
for only such beautiful nightmares could do such things -
          hurt her heart the most,
          stay in her memory the longest,
          and **** her dreams the hardest

I felt invisible today
How I dance around words and refuse to inch towards my door
How words fall onto my lap, only to be wiped away by my shaking hands

I felt lonely today
How best friends make pinky swears and how all I can keep safe is the gold cross on my neck
I pray to him and ask, God, let me love again

I felt.. Sad;
The kind of sadness that rolls over in bed ever so often
But will never leave
The one that despite my tugging at the feet
Only sinks even deeper into my being

But most of all
I felt nothing
I didn't feel the breeze as I tiptoed my way into being what my Mother calls 'normal'
Or the hot water I envied, how amazing it would be
To simply
Just
Evaporate.