Like a fog at night
I know you'll creep into my head.
Around every corner,
lurking like an unknown figure
in the dark.
Your face will always find me,
in my darkest hour,
my happiest morning,
or the lightest of my sleep.
You'll always be with me,
I can't escape you.
I can't want to try to forget,
and I can't need to stop missing you
before you're even gone.
But you will be.
You'll run away into a cloud of happiness
just like everyone before you,
and anyone to come later.
But I know you'll take a piece with you,
a piece of a greater size than anyone before,
and you'll run.
You'll run so fast I can't remind my feet
to run after you to stop you,
to ask you to stay, to remind you I'm still
here and I can't be without you.
So I'll just stay.
And be so unsure of where I'll go next that I'll just stay.
I'll just stay until someone comes and drags me
away.
Because I can't go.
I won't.
I'll just sit and remember until the fog rolls in again
and I can't see anymore,
and I'm left with only my thoughts
of what was and what could have been our "is" and "are"
and I'll just be lost, but still be in the same place
as I've always been.
Sitting here.
Staying.
Waiting.

Even in the darkness
I can feel those eyes upon me.
I can close my eyes tight
and cover my ears,
but I can still picture their menacing glare,
and I can still hear those words
loud
and clear.
Don't shout your compliments
and jam them down my throat
because without my own consent
they mean nothing.
They tell me to learn
to take a nice gesture
but the truth is
it's the compliments that hurt the most.
When I close my eyes,
I can still see your mouths moving,
and I feel your words
rocking my world,
slowly sinking my ship.
I've tried to keep my sea legs
steady
for so long now,
but I can feel the uneasy,
sick,
queasy feelings
rolling back into my brain,
and I have to fight hard to stay on my feet.
You shout your words
like I should be thankful
to hear them.
The words only bring fear
that this perfection you see
could slip away,
and then I would be left
with the memory
of who I used to be.
The saddest thing is,
when I close my eyes,
I can't stop hearing their words,
and I can't stop feeling
like I should be ashamed
of what I've let myself become.
But the eyes,
the ones I see
even when I close my own,
are just that;
The eyes that peer down
upon me,
evilly glaring,
constantly staring,
picking me apart,
are those that rest
just above my own nose.

The walls around me
tower over me even
in such a short room.
Unfriendly reminders of
ugly mistakes
and the chain
and shackles of my past.
What is it like
to know
I have taken a step backward,
fall forward,
headlong,
but still somehow I've
managed to fall on my *** -
stuck in neutral
in this guarded dungeon?
My walls are worn
and corroded,
from neglect, and now
I have allowed them to crumble.
And here I kneel,
weak and alone,
crying out for that one thing
everyone wants from an empty home,
but the echoes are
my only friends.

A leap, a
second,
a deep breath.
Splash.
The Earth swallows me
wrapping me in splendor -
and for a moment I forget.
Relief and satisfaction
envelops me.
However long
I may, I will allow my body
to glide just beneath the surface,
like silk against itself
or upon a newly shaven leg,
until the last air escapes me.
When I return
and I submerge only my ears,
the sounds of my breathing
remind me
that I can
still
feel,
and there is time.
But for now,
I'll just breathe.

The sun begins to shine
again upon the world,
and I'm still here.
I'm still seeing,
still breathing,
still feeling you next to me.
I closed my eyes to
the darkness
last night fearing
that it would be
the last time I'd see you.
It all seems
just too good
to be true,
too perfect
to be real,
all too right
to be mine.
But you're still here,
sighing,
sleeping
sound beside me.
Your heart is still beating
steady from within your chest
beneath my head,
and I know you're still mine
for at least this moment.
How I wish I could freeze time
and stay here
in your arms forever.

The bird song begins earlier than I am prepared to hear it.
The sun has not yet made his entrance
to this side of the world
but I feel light dawning inside me.
My leaves are strewn about,
having landed violently at my feet last night.
My branches are sore,
I rocked and groaned all night long,
and my trunk is weaker --
I am cracked
and missing a few layers --
but my roots,
they go deeper than you could imagine,
and I will not falter.
I may sway,
shed pieces to the storm,
but I will not fall.

Those familiar grumbles
come from somewhere
in a dark corner or my mind.
They come sneaking around
without more of a warning
than a soft cackle.
The laughter
grinds my bones
as if I'm searching
for gears in the car.
The creatures
have been hunting me,
taunting me,
haunting me for years.
They come for me at night,
when I'm most alone.
They know
I cannot be saved then,
they'll have their way with me,
chewing on me,
never to swallow me whole
but just enough
to leave me sore
with the rise of the sun.
I've grown to expect them,
embrace their presence,
because unlike those
who are with me
in the daytime,
the demons
will always be here.