This is the sound of
A thousand breaking hearts and
Each of them is mine.

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

she liked the color yellow because it calmed her
its brightness soothed her soul
and the sight of a yellow flower
always brought her joy
it illuminated her dark days
and stormy weather
it always seemed to try so hard
to be happy
A quality she could relate to

but one day, she met a boy who liked orange
a color she always said she hated
its hue too close to yellow
but too different to be enjoyed
she never wore the color orange
felt as if it drew attention to her
when she was content enough
to be invisible
in the corner of the room

her favorite color was yellow
and his was orange
but she never liked that color
with its harshness and severity
it reminded her
of traffic cones
and reflector vests
of emergencies
and warning signs

But one day, she realized
he reminded her of the color yellow
he soothed her soul
illuminated her dark days
and calmed her storms
he never seemed to try too hard
but always managed to make her smile

she realized yellow and orange
weren't that different after all
and when the two hues came together
her, perpetually the color yellow
him, forever orange
she felt like the only girl in the room

the colors yellow and orange
started to bleed together
and orange came to remind her
of fallen leaves
and clear sunsets
of butterflies
and sprinkled zest

and in time
as she grew to love him
the color orange started to become
just as beautiful as yellow

I gave my sight to the sky
And watched the clouds collide
Saw the spinning universe as I never had before
And felt the world fall at my feet

I gave my breath to you
And said all things I should’ve
Shouted all the obscenities
And whispered all the sweet nothings

I gave my mind to you
And lost every inch of myself
Washed away every memory
And disinfected any individuality

I gave my body to the earth
And pushed my rotting flesh into the soil
Buried these withered bones in the clay
And felt the heat rise from its core

She was confounding
Complete, but perfectly incomplete
An oxymoron, a double negative, a hypocrite
She only drank water that came from a bottle
And refused to eat anything that wasn’t stamped USDA organic
Her hands always sat motionless when she spoke
But her mouth moved in tremendous circles with every word
She disliked notoriety but craved attention
Her chest heaving and fingers tapping to the loud music
Her hair, disheveled and uncombed, sat static on her shoulders
Eyes bright and engaged, she eagerly awaited for her friends
At a bar on a Friday night, she was alone
And all I wanted was to know her name