You're not dying
What you held in your hand isn't there anymore
And that's okay
Everyone knows you're going to live
So you might as well start trying

I have so much to say
But I don't want to tell anyone any of it.
I focus on hating myself so much that I'm sick of me.
I press pen to page in hopes of making some way to cope but the words dont flow like they use to.
Those pipes are rusted shut.
Clogged by to many thoughts of myself that came from my own sick head.
The ones that come from loving lips and caring smiles sit outside and freeze.
I want to write my pain into oblivion but it doesn't go willingly.
I could bleed my hands ripping up the rusted copper pipes and give myself a new outlook but the foundation is too thick too break through and I don't have a hammer strong enough to hit it with.
Steel pressed to concrete spelling out my words with smashing instead of ink on the page I set out to write on.
But the strokes of the hammer are quiet.
Because I'll never say any of it.

Lately my sentences have ended with periods.
I've meant everything I've said hurtful or not.
I've spilled my heart to my mirror countless times and ended it all with that single dot.
But when it comes time to tell another human being all that comes out is dot dot dot...
I list the causes of my hatred with a colon: my reasons splayed out like a grocery isle full of sickness.
I use to talk with commas, always more to say
Always ending my sentences with one to continue it later,
Making myself able to feel like I could carry on but now everything I say is final.
I end my words like my last will and testament.
Never to be changed.
No semicolons to tell more later.
No commas to pause for a breath of life anymore.
All I want is that period.
That final bullet through the paper to close the book and let it be over.
I want to speak with commas again, to let it all flow like there's nothing wrong nothing to hide behind that period or those dots...
I want to be able to pause again, to catch my breath, to let myself heal, I want to use the proper punctuation to be okay again,

My nightmares are no longer plagued with monsters or ghouls.
The setting is always a wonderful rainy day.
A day I spent with you.
I don't see flashes of thunder or gnashing teeth.
I don't see myself ripped to shreds by beasts of the night.
I only see myself being forgiven by you.
It's not real.
That's the scariest part.
A second chance only in my dreams.
Only in my nightmares

Dear home,
I'm sorry I was too late.
I talked to dad, he's changed so much.
He's too different to remember you now.
I thought I'd find you on the other side but you weren't there.
I came back hoping I was wrong and you'd be here.
But you aren't.
You've been gone,and I had no idea.
I spent all that time looking for you.
When I should have been building a new home, new memories.
I should have moved on but you were so warm, so comforting.
I'll visit your grave whenever I find it.
I'll leave the photo albums and home videos for you.
Maybe if you watch them instead of me, you'll remember me like I did you.
Goodbye home,
Yours truly.

Hello, dear self.
You are cold and unwelcoming.
You there, with the void in your chest.
I lay next to you every night wondering how we are together.
Who are you?
How are you?
Questions not to be answered.
Hushed tones tell of hatred for myself.
You spill your feelings to the mirror each night.
Being to afraid to tell others.
You know exactly what you need.
And exactly how you won't get it.
You cry when it's too much.
Saying bittersweet "I'm sorry".
You tell the ceiling you love them.
Your pillow it's your everything.
You ask the wall why she left.
Why you're alone now.
What will be left.
When all this is over.
You again, maybe whole.
It'll all blow over.
Did it matter? I'm not sure.
Will you matter? I don't know.
You tell yourself the answers in two short letters.
N o.
I'll greet you every morning until you get better.
Until we get help.
Or until we both die.
I won't just let go of me.
It won't be a pleasant goodbye.

I stare off.
Whether it's into your eyes or somewhere in the distance.
I listen to sappy piano music with the sound of rain falling on a city sidewalk as I stare at nothing and think about everything.
I wonder when I'll feel like I belong.
Probably when I'm in in your arms.
I think about what I'm going to have for lunch tomorrow.
Probably nothing as I forget to have lunch most days.
I wonder why some things are and why some aren't.
What I could do it I stopped time.
Spoiler, I'd sleep.
I stare off into space wondering if I'll ever find myself again.
Somewhere better.
Somewhere that feels warm and like home.
But for now it's cold and piano filled.
I'm not sad about it.
The thoughts will just wander freely.
Until I reach a landing point.
Out here among the stars.