The masses whirl
My head spins with all the colours
The reds the blues
Everyone smiling and happy
And yet I feel alone.
The masses don't touch me
And I don't touch them
I keep to myself
And they pretend I am not here.
I will never be a member of the masses
I am too withdrawn.

I keep little pieces of you with me
Like the little pieces you left of my heart
I keep your anarchy
I keep your quotes
I keep your memory
I keep the fire you lit in my heart
I keep the spark you put in my eyes
I keep your passion
I keep our love locked away
I keep these little things in hopes
You'll come back someday.

Smile little Red
that's it, my dear
but not too big,
hide away those fangs.

Pull your pretty little hood up
get it just right, my dear,
push back those furry ears.

Blink those pretty blue eyes,
but wait, something's wrong my dear,
was that a flash of yellow I saw?

Cross your legs now
and sit like a lady my dear,
don't let that tail poke out.

Tuck your hands under
your sweet little bag my dear,
put away those claws.

Watch out little Red
your secret could slip out my dear,
your inner wolf
is howling a little too loud.

I keep little things
Close at hand.
I keep them to remind myself
that this darkness is temporary
that things will get better.
Little notes written by a friend
something as simple as
"I love you"
or "keep your head up"
I keep fortunes
with quotes I admire
quotes that remind me
that it's okay to not be okay
that it's ok to fall apart,
but only if you're strong enough
to put yourself back together.
I keep little things like ticket stubs
reminders of dates long past.
I keep these things to remember
but also to help myself forget,
Forget my sadness for a while.

It gets better
She promises.
I promise it gets better.

He looks at her with
eyes red and swollen
When? When does it get better
When I'm 34 with a job?
When I'm 64 with grey hair and a cane?

I'm not sure when it gets better
I'm as low as you
As sad as you
She says
I suppose I've just gotten
Used to feeling this way.
But I hope it gets better.
Maybe we should make it better
Together.
Maybe we should claim our own happiness.

What torture it is
to witness love,
only from a far,
and never participate.

I find myself
writing about what
love should be
sharing cute couple
pictures with cheesy quotes
and yet still being alone.

I feel that I am doomed
to be the stenographer
of this little blue orb,
and all that lies outside its walls.
I document but never experience
I write but never feel.

My only regret is
maybe my one true whatever
has already come and gone,
and left me behind,
but wouldn't I know if I had
been in that one true
whatever?

And so, I will write on,
observe love from far away
and hope for my
one
true
whatever.

You've seen her
Headphones in
With music up
or in conversation with
ten people at once
She can't stand the silence.
The sound of her beating
Broken heart
is so maddening.
As soon as the lights all die
As soon as the music stops
As soon as the people leave
her heart breaks once more
under the crushing, knee snapping
weight of the silence.