I was well once
I was soft once
No bouts of crazy once
No Bipolar once

Knowing turned to loving
Loving turned to comfort
Comfort turned to silence
Silence turned to hurt

If we knew what our soul looked like.
If we understood just how beautiful we are.
Idleness and low self esteem would be replaced with,
Love, ambition and a heart full of fire.

I have been alone most of my life.
Every now and then someone would walk in, cup my chin,
give me a moments peace from the anxiety of living and not knowing how my day would end.
I could close my eyes, measured breathing into sleep.
I would dream for days, breaking only to sup and eat.
I could forget my sin and remember my goodness.  
A reprise. No need for forced politeness.
It was a break. No moving forward. Without or within.

Then, one day, I would think that I could awake, unlock my heart and carefully peer outside.
But every time my benefactor would be gone, and I was alone again.

i wrote you
a letter every day
letters to tell you
just how i feel

written in neat, curved
writing i told you
just how sweet
i thought you were
how you made my heart
glow

letters in which i wrote
with various colors of ink
pouring out my whole being
to you

i wrote you
a letter every day.

i wrote you letters in which
i told you how you made me
bloom.

eventually
i found myself
pressing harder on
the paper
than i had before.

creating tears in them
similar in shape
and size
as the ones
inside of me.

i began to send
letters
with creases
and bumps
and stains
splattered with tears

pouring
from my eyes

as i wrote
the anger
bubbling within me.

my last letter
addressed to you
contained
no words

but was blank.
because
i had none that

could reach
as far

and deep

into the cracks
of my
heart

to describe
just
what you

had left
of me.

Time is burning like a candle, the flame dancing next to my bed.
And, somewhere in my mind I am searching, 'round the many corners in my head.
And, somewhere in my mind I'm seeing, lovers, ghosts of who we used to be.
And, somewhere in the night I smile, as I rescue moments from my memory.
Somewhere in the night I'm racing, reaching out to catch your falling star.
Grasping at it with eager hands, only to drop my own fragile heart.

I loath the part of me,
that cannot intercede,
with the part of you-
that has no need
for me.