Why do some of us possess the habit
Of dwelling on negativity?

The sun still rises,
The birds are singing,
There are opportunities galore,
Perhaps a new beginning?
There are languages to learn,
More friends to make,
New people to date
And chances to take.
The change of the seasons,
Stories to write,
Oceans and cities
And warm summer nights.
There are places to visit,
Plenty of time to travel,
Ideas to develop
And secrets to unravel.

The Earth is still in orbit
And the stars still have their twinkle,
It's not worth getting hung up
Over finding a wrinkle.

Are the little things really that important?
losing your keys,
a few extra calories,
a bad hair day,
missing the bus.
Are they worth focusing on?
Look clearly
And ask yourself:
Do those things really matter
At all?

On the floor of the river styx, frogs burrowing peer over muck duvets to watch me press like a violet between the cookbook pages of the water and the land. I went overboard-

I am addicted to the darkness between worlds.

Somewhere above me, I see the moon. She doesn’t try to warn me, she doesn’t bother reminding me that I can’t breathe. Heavy currents like snakes blur her face into fractured crystal tears that wash me over with sweet exasperation.

Sedated by the salt toward the other side, where the ferryman flips my coin and hums a tune without words about all rivers rushing toward the sea.

He doesn’t ask me why I chose this route, just grins a toothless grin
And winks
And tosses my coin into the water
without

So much

As a wish.

Some people say life is a game, like Monopoly, but for most of us, our lives are sorry.
Sorry you've been abandoned, sorry i can’t see you any more, I’m so sorry for your loss. Sorry, sorry, sorry is as sorry does.
Sorry’s mean they didn't love you, he didn't care, and we couldn't save her.
Sorry's ****!
Sometimes sorrys feel good but most of the time they feel like crap.
Sorry's mean guys are jerks, people hate me, and I. HAVE. NO. FRIENDS.
Sorry, sorry, sorry, say it three times over a wound and it won’t make it heal, it’s just a five letter word, but it's a four letter word to me, it doesn't do anything.
It doesn't heal scars, or take back the words, or take the razor blades that end peoples lives from their shaking hands as they draw their last breath.
Sorry, sorry, sorry, it doesn't make life any better, it doesn't make it right.

Today i found out
That no matter how many
Poems I'll write
I'll never be able to
Express what i feel for you.