If I fall in a forest,
And no one is around to hear,
My graceless collision with the ground,
Did I make a sound?

I would still have the bruises,
Or whatever the tree equivalent is,
And my bark may still sting,
But would the echo ring?

If I fall in a forest,
And no one likes my post,
My strategically formulated caption,
Why does everything feel like it's caving in?

I would still have the moment,
Where I took the picture,
Locked in my memory,
Or maybe not–
I chose instead to exist as pixels.

You remind me of color.

Perhaps it's because,
Of your love for it,
And all the beauty,
It creates.

Or maybe it's because,
When I am around you,
Just like with colors,
The world seems so vibrant.

But I suspect the reason lies,
Within the fact that you,
Like color,
Are not what you claim to be.

Light's wavelengths come down,
And you absorb them,
Reflecting back everything else.

So you see,
You are not red.
You are everything but that.

And if you are color,
I am the cones in our eyes,
Interpreting you as what you reflect,
You are to the world.
Believing your facade to be true.

It's not you that makes my heart flutter,
Inspired and striving,
To be like the butterflies in my stomach.

It's the chemicals and hormones,
That enter my bloodstream,
When you're around.

My smiles not for you,
It's my body's natural reaction,
To the surplus of dopamine and oxytocin.

So don't let it get to your head,
That waking up to a text from you,
Distracts me for the rest of the day.

And don't pity me,
That I still cry when I think about how,
You chose her,
Over me.

Throughout my day,
There’s a constant buzz,
White noise and distraction,
To keep the thoughts at bay.

If self doubt is blasphemy,
Then I’m full of sin,
Thanks to the voice,
Swirling around in my head,
Repeating the word broken.

I am broken,
Unworthy of kindness,
Unworthy of love,
Unworthy of life,
A complete and total mess.

I may trick people at first,
But if they know me long enough,
My fragile mask will crack,
Just enough for them to see,
The wreck inside,
I was never that tough.

Sometimes I even fool myself,
Into believing I am whole,
That the shattered doll,
Has somehow glued its pieces back together,
That I am not broken,
That I am mended,
That I was never broken.

He picked me up in his car,
And asked me what happened,
That's always the first question,
First thing that people think to say.

They want to know why,
Tears have formed in my eyes,
And roll down my face.

They want to know where,
The pain is coming from,
So that they might stop it.

They want to know who,
I am thinking about,
When I claim to feel alone.

I'll tell you what, why, where, and who.
What happened is nothing,
It came out of nowhere.
The why is nothing,
There is no cause.

The where is nowhere,
Nowhere they can reach.
The who is no one,
At least that's what I feel like.

I know you don't believe me,
When I answer your questions.
I told you the truth,
You just don't understand depression.

Just like him,
You have that look in your eyes,
And close your mouth,
Deciding not to push it for now.

But just wait until next time,
If I give you the chance.
And you will ask again.
Not realizing your questions,
Only remind me that I am broken.

Is it a sacrifice to spend so much time thinking of you?
I have convinced myself I am honoring your memory, I suppose,
But that little person that lives in my brain,
The one that monitors my mistakes and yells at my flaws,
Keeps telling me that I am selfish.

Selfish to indulge in this sadness,
Selfish to cry when thinking of you,
Selfish to see you in my dreams,
When I could have, should have, done so much more,
When you were still alive.

I could live in those moments forever,
Like when in shock my brain suddenly lost language,
My heart ceased beating,
My lungs no longer filled with air,
Creating a temporary death to accompany my realization of your permanent one, Annalisa.

Or perhaps the moment when,
We were frantically trying to get back to your hospital room, Flora,
When we got the call that you were fading away,
Helping your husband as he struggled with his walker,
And more heartbreak than I have ever seen on one face,
All while knowing we would be too late.

Even that brief sensation of dropping,
My body falling faster than my heart,
That suddenly occupied my throat,
As I rushed to an imagined release,
Could last me a lifetime.

But the memories of your smile, laugh, and happiness,
Fade more quickly than I would have predicted,
Those moments so sweet,
They melt as quickly as cotton candy in your mouth.
And I am left only with a sour aftertaste,
Cruel, lingering memories here to haunt me forever.

I feel the weight,
of my existence the most,
At night.

With the lights turned off,
And nothing to distract me,
From my thoughts,
My body feels like an anchor,
Keeping me on earth,
Tethered to reality.

Not anywhere close,
To the distant stars and moon,
That entice me so.

I want to run until,
I disappear into the wind,
And I want to not move at all,
Holding my breath until,
my stillness allows me to fade away.

You say you want to be,
more,
than friends.

But when I reject your advances,
and you want nothing to do with me.
I know the truth.
You don't want,
more.

If you did,
you would be happy to have a little,
less,
of me in your life.
You would not villainize me,
pouting like a toddler,
who was told they couldn't have candy.
Friends may not be everything you dreamed of,
but it should mean something.

You really think,
less,
of me than you do your friends.

This poem mentions self-harm. If this upsets you please don't read it


I used to want people to look at me,
And know that I was sick.
I envied those with physical illness,
As opposed to mental.

I romanticized their struggle,
And their experiences.
I felt hurt that I was treated,
As though it was all in my head.

That was until I engraved,
Markings upon my skin.
Now everyday I see,
The memory of,
A darkness I,
Nearly lost,
Myself,
In.

You haunted me,
In my dreams last night.
I was at your funeral,
And every time I tried to speak,
Someone interrupted me.
I was going to say,
How much I loved you,
Cared for you.
I was going to tell you,
How badly I felt,
That I hadn’t told you before you died.
But even my unconscious self,
Won’t allow me that closure.

Years ago I met a girl,
Who confessed she once fantasized,
About struggling with mental illness.

She wanted to be like her favorite artists,
Craved a diagnosis to make her interesting,
A beauty mark that interrupted an otherwise plain face.

That was of course until,
Her eating disorder took control,
And that unique little trait started to **** her.

Ingenue got a new bike today,
And she knew just what to do.
For despite her name,
She's not new to the game.

Ingenue had already made the classic mistakes,
Had bikes stolen, more than a few.
Oh she would carefully close the lock through the front tire,
Checking once, twice, even three times,
To ensure that it was fastened,
Coming back to find
The rest of the frame,
Stolen, and only herself to blame.

Ingenue knows better now,
She finally has a clue.
She splurged on a nicer lock,
Strategically placed duct tape,
To make it look old,
For no one bothers with a broken bike,
No one will hurt her now.

You Don’t Own Me.
Everything inside me shouts,
From my bones,
My muscles,
To the blood traveling through my veins.

I am terrified of being trapped,
Pinned down,
Like a butterfly,
Killed and speared with a needle,
Caged in by glass,
So that my beauty may be observed,
And owned,
In ways it couldn’t if I were allowed to live,
And fly free.

You Don’t Own Me.
So I don’t want to be defined by you,
And your thoughts of who I am,
Who I should be,
What I can do for you.

So don’t you dare try to capture me,
Claim me as your baby,
Your girlfriend,
Your wife.
Though I may seem weak,
Innocent, and all together harmless,
There is a tiger inside of me
Just waiting to bite,
Anyone who gets too close.

You Don’t Own Me.
You Don’t Control Me.
You Don’t Know Me.
You Don’t Understand Me.
Even if it means I end up alone.