Darling I can’t find a word to describe you…
But I can find three
Overpriced. Airport. Coffee.
You have an inflated self ego like the over priced liquid
Airports try to pass off as coffee
The brew tastes as watered down as your originality
And honey if I’m honest
I shouldn’t even compare you to coffee
Because that might be the greatest sin of all

I binge write,
Like an addict relapsing from ******
I wake at 4:13 in a cold sweat
Because somehow words have become more important than sleep

A new decade is approaching
This one will be my first without you
Though I’ve learned how to extinguish the scorching flame your absence caused,
There is still but a flicker of you within me.
If I’m not careful it will consume me,
The raw, violent, hunger of a wildfire
Almost always begins with an innocent spark
A thought left unattended,
And an entire forest much older than I
Must begin anew after days of raining ash and blackness.
As I grow with age,
I find it is almost impossible to hold your memory within me
Without becoming charred by the thought of you
This year I made it my goal to face the agonizing intensity of my emotions
Without burning this body to the ground.
Thats where I was wrong,
Always trying to control rather than be controlled
So I let you take hold of me,
Burn away every acre of my tainted insides
So I can finally put an end to this excruciating cycle
And rise from the ashes you first set ablaze all those years ago
I’ll choke on ash and blood for as long as it takes,
But I will no longer allow myself to stand at the edge of life
Waiting for your soul to return from the abyss
The void that only knows darkness,
Where seeds aren't given a chance to grow.
The end of a cycle means a new beginning
I am intent on setting the whole world on fire
With the same intensity you did in me,
Darkness only wins if we choose not to let the light in.
A new decade approaches,
We are creating our legacy
Within every soul that catches fire
From the passion in my eyes that echos that of my boisterous personality.
I'm finally ready to let the world feel just how contagious the imprint you left within me is.

I think I fell in love with her
Although I have never spoken to her
I read every line  she wrote
And pictured her pale fingers
Dancing along her keyboard
Every word a small piece of her-
I fell in love with
The way she writes,
Nothing has captivated me so much
I will never speak to her,
We will just continue to follow each other
On a site dedicated to only poetry
Filled with many others like her and I
But I thought her soul was so beautiful
That I had to write about her

I once dated a boy
Who told me that all artists are broken
But he didn't understand
That all humans are broken
And he would chain smoke cigarettes in the rain
Praying to a God he didn't believe in
Because he wished so badly to be dead
"all artists are broken"
Does that mean you're an artist?
Or did it just provide you an excuse
To label me as broken

My pride is stained with memories of you
Like the way clothing is stained by coffee
It's no longer 'perfect'
It's tainted with the blackness you left behind
I've tried to wash you out;
But all I'm left with is a sad soft brown
Traces of you still in every fiber and stitch
Now in every smile you can see shades of sadness
In every laugh you can hear my shattered self esteem
And in every word I speak you can hear how timid I have become

I tried to commit suicide
It didn't work (obviously)
This isn't romanticizing death
Though, I don't blame those who do.
Its unfair that you can't take the life
You never asked for.

I didn't go to your funeral
I tried to, but I couldn't
And I swear I still have nightmares
I can hear the way your hollow casket sounds
As dirt is piled above it
And the reality sinks in
I never let you go

I used to wonder
Why emptiness feels so heavy
But-
I think we've all convinced ourselves
That we're empty
It's easier than accepting the truth,
Saying your empty is like committing suicide
It's a cop out;
It gives you the excuse to live
Without actually living

You ceased to exist the second your footsteps became inaudible
No matter how many times I read my journal full of our memories
It didn't change the fact that you were gone
Writing didn't make you last forever;
It only showed me how little 'forever' really is

I think I'm a ghost sometimes
As if I'm as light as paper
And I just go where the wind blows me;
Sometimes I wish I would disappear
I think that's why I've become so faded
Because if you keep wishing for something hard enough
It can become your reality if you let it
So I let the wish fester beneath my heart
As if It was a bad scab I didn't want to go away
I just kept picking at it and picking it
I nursed it between my rib cage
And my eyes drained of everything familiar to me
I deleted the girl I used to know
Along with all her pages
That were covered in her soul dipped ink
It was red because her veins bled black
And they crept through her body like black shadowed trees
She wished so hard that she would just disappear
Along with everybody she used to know
But sometimes when you poke the beast
All you end up doing is making it angry
Instead of killing it.
Maybe for Halloween this year I'll be a ghost
And I'll stop wanting to disappear
If I see how it feels for a night

When she’s gone...
I crave her like the first time I ever laid eyes on her,
I can feel my tongue twisting and forgetting all my words-
A thousand thoughts swirling around my head,
But I still can’t manage to conjure just one
I can feel my body tense,
Begging for her familiarity to wash over me
Like the way soft green hills of the valley
Roll endlessly over one another
Creating a masterpiece that leaves you speechless
When she’s gone,
I crave her
Like an artist craves that one sunset they saw years ago-
Decades later and they’re still trying to recreate a moment
That’s nothing but a memory
Yet they can’t stop, like an itch one can’t find
Because none has compared to that one
When you’re gone...
Things come out all jumbled and backwards
Like “good night” instead of “good morning”
And “I hope you’re having fun” instead of “come home, I miss you”

I bathe in a bath of blood
(metaphorically of course)
The ****** crimson red is all I know;
It covers all the white in my eyes
Hiding any part of me that looks human
I look hungry; primal almost
I guess you could say the way I'd look at you
Is in pure starvation
Something that stems from my toes
and pulsates through my body until it reaches my mind
It's the lack of sleep that makes me look like an animal
It's the fact that I can run on no sleep for three days straight
I am not an animal, but I'm not exactly human either

I see jellyfish in the ocean of your eyes
And I swear those translucent blue jellyfish
Are just the remains of your mesmerizing marble eyes
That shattered into pieces
The second your eyes first met sunlight
When I look at you I wonder
Where all those jellyfish are heading;
Spiraling down into the blackness of your pupil
And I wish I could join them,
I wish I could experience the rhythmic motion of comfort and solace
That your eyes provide just by looking at them,
But how much more would I feel
If I could lose myself in them?
Or maybe I'd be caught in the undercurrent of your thoughts,
Maybe you'd **** me in and I'd never want to leave the black bottom of the ocean in your eyes;
Maybe I'd fall in love with the secret places the jellyfish don't dare to go,
The things I wonder when I look at you,
So many thoughts flood my mind
When I trace my fingers across your lips
And stare at the beautiful jellyfish
That glimmer so brilliantly in the darkness and the light.
I wonder what I'd find down there,
But I think that's my favorite part about looking at you,
This is one thing I'll never really know;
I guess I'll just admire you from my boat,
And continue to be lost in the sea of your eyes
Admiring the translucent jellyfish from afar.

I spend far too many nights sleeping with empty bottles
That once held the liquor I drown my sorrows in
I sleep far too little
The baggage under my eyes is so apparent
That a permanent shadow resides beneath my hollow eyes
I spend too much time loving all the wrong people
And loving nobody at all
I stay out till 5am with people I don't care much for
Just because I know they can offer me everything I want;
Drugs and alcohol.
I wake up with cuts and bruises,
And sometimes with no recollection of my past night
I slit my flesh open out of bordem
And I kiss my whiskey bottle more than any boy or girl I have ever dated
I am in love with freeing myself from my mind
With the high liquor and drugs offer
But when I am awake and sober
I always realize that I'm never really "free"
'Life'... it's a trap
And no amount of ***** and drugs will set you free
Well, that is as long as breath is still willing itself
In and out of your pathetic body

I feel lost in a sea of words,
That have stitched themselves to the roof of my mouth
I try to explain what I’m feeling but nothing comes out
I feel the weight beginning to crush me,
Making it harder to breathe
Sowing my lips shut-
shutting down like the rest of my body
Everything feels like so much,
But then nothing at all
I’m lost in the confusion,
Do I have something to say,
Or am I just my own downfall?

I buried all my pain in a 40oz bottle
My mother had once asked me if I was an alcoholic
She found endless bottles beneath the crevice of my bed
It looked like the valley of the shadow of death;
A grave yard of bottles that had been drunk’ to the last drop-
She lined every one across my desk; pleading for some answers
Her eyes were solemn and filled with grief
She must have looked like she aged about 20 years in that moment,
I saw her wrinkles were pained with disappointment
Tears escaped her eyes, I was lost to her.

She walked into my room to watch me sleep for a few minutes and say goodnight,
I was wearing a sweatshirt; only it wasn’t me
It was stuffed with blankets and pillows.
I was in the closet, I felt her disappointed sadden breaths as she peered in at her little girl
She had no idea I was leaving; I left the moment her bedside light when out.
Somewhere there was still a broken little girl who buried her pain in liquor and drugs
When the phone rang during the dead silence of the night she wondered if her little girl would be gone forever
She struck a blow to my sisters face; She had never been faced with a situation like this before
Her first instinct was to blame her for the loss of breath that would not will itself out of my lungs
Her eyes peered in at her little girl;
But this time it wasn’t from her bedroom door-
It was through her blurred vision standing outside an ambulance.
When a pulse was found my mouth began to foam and my chest heaved in spasmodic compulsions
It took me two days to recover; my mother didn’t leave my side.
She must have instantly grown grey hair the second she laid her eyes on my lifeless body

When I went away to Africa she found my drugs, she flushed them down the toilet
Wishing she could flush away all my bad habits
She must have sat in my room and cried numerous times that summer
Her little girl was still lost, even more than she could have imagined.
She didn’t know what to do, so she did what she could-
So she replaced my drugs with bible verses that had been burned into the back of my skull since I was a kid
I came home that summer to open arms, still full of love
But this time it looked as if she must have aged another decade
I walked into a perfectly clean room;
It must have taken days for her to clean.
She didn’t miss a single spot, my drugs we’re completely gone
And I felt pieces of my heart slip away,
I wondered how I could burden the woman who brought me into this world I wonder if she felt all hope was gone

She asked me if I was an alcoholic again
When she found new liquor bottles stuffed between my clothes
And the 24 pack of beer in the far corner of my closet
This time I left; I didn’t come back
She cried and tired to rip my bag from my hands
But the disappointment of her stare burdened me to no extent.
Her little girl was slowly slipping through her fingers.
When I finally came home she still welcomed me with open arms
She embraced me as if I was the prodigal son who had finally returned She didn’t realize I was still lost-

I told her I was going to my best fiends house
We went to Santa Cruz instead;
I was hyped up on coffee, and would soon be so drunk I couldn’t walk
My mom got another call that night; Her daughter had been in a car accident, it was bad-
The entire car was totaled on one of the busiest highways
I looked to the side and a semi was coming full on
I thought I was going to die;
I prayed that God would give my mother some peace about me
That he would somehow get her through the death of her child that has been long coming;
But I didn’t die, because some part of God’s plan wasn’t over
The semi hit us, our car was slightly underneath it;
Death stared at me inches from my face
Yet all I had was a few broken ribs and a scratch that ran along my forehead
I wonder how much older my mother looked then.
I was still lost, did she wonder if there was any hope of bringing her little girl home?

My mother discusses books with me now;
She hardly brings up my past
I can still see disappointment in her eyes
But she somehow looks younger Because her little girl finally came home-
Because even though her nerves want to wake her up at 3am wondering where I am, they don’t
It sounds like quite the story, but imagine reading it through her eyes.

My mother warned me about the monsters underneath my bed
And the ones hiding in my closest
She told me about the monsters in the world too
The ones that would take advantage of me
And possibly **** me
She never warned me about the monsters
With a perfect waterfall of hair
And shimmering magenta lips
She never warned me about the monsters with a perfect smile
And eyes that shine as brilliantly as the moon
Or the monsters with freckles that drape like constellations on their cheek bones
And the monsters that look at you with a piercing gaze it hurts to breathe
She forgot to warn me about monsters with soft skin
and devious minds
The monsters who walk so elegantly and taunt me with the swaying of their hips
The monsters that creep under my skin and speak gentle words into my ear
Mommy why didn't you warn me about the monsters that don't look like monsters at all?
The monsters that lure me in with their beauty and eat me alive
Until they've managed to rip open my sternum and take my heart

I choke on the words I love you
Because it’s too painful to say

And this montage of memories won’t leave my mind
But for some reason, they all come pouring out so quickly
That none of them seem to stay for long
It feels like a movie compressed into a single second

And I’m the only one left in the audience
Dumbstruck that the credits are still rolling on the screen
Until finally,
There are no more credits;
The ending isn’t still coming to a close
It’s just over.

The screen is black and I’m alone.
With only memories burned into my stubborn skull
Wishing I had wrote down every day I spent with you
Wishing that I could re-watch every second I spent with you

Finally, a theater usher interrupts
“Miss, the next show begins in 5 minutes,
We’ll need you to please exit the theater.”

I guess there isn’t really much else to do in that scenario
Besides get up and walk away
Flashing the most realistic smile
One could conjure up
While engulfed by complete emptiness

Please don't search my skin every morning and night
As if I'm one of your art pieces that isn't quite right
You'll stare at your drawings for hours wondering what you need to change
You erase all the wrong lines till you've painted over them
In order to perfect your piece
My skin is not your canvas
You cannot erase the marks I have made
I'm not a piece to be speculated by an artist
Who never deems any of her pieces worthy.
If you like I can frame myself for you
And tuck myself away in the dusty crevice of your room
A graveyard for all your unfinished pieces;
The ones that even you could not fix

You stained my sheets with your scent-
No... No, you ******* drenched my sheets with yourself
You made love to my bed so passionately
That you left behind the indentation of your body
It's sad that you wanted to hold my hand
And feel my heart beat just in that touch;
Even when we made 'love'
you didn't make so much as a dent in my memory;
Or my heart.

I need a new bed now,
                                      you ruined mine.
Yours remains perfectly molded,
                                      sorry that I destroyed you *instead

I can’t hear what you’re saying anymore

Because you all sound the same

What happened to originality?

When poems didn't always reference the sun, tidal waves, and ever abiding seas?

What happened to poems filled with truth, artists that don’t lie

It seems that all art work sounds exactly the same; love, pain, suffering, and then you die

Why can’t you spit the truth across your pages

Why can artists no longer write things about the past ages

How hard is it to let the ink spill-

In such a way that tells what you real feel?

All the ******* lies convincing people your art is... “art”

Well, it’s no longer original, it no longer comes from the heart

Your mind is your own, if you just be yourself you’d see

Not all artist “dot their I's and cross their T’s”

It’s sloppy, its raw and it’s real, breathe truth into your words

Because all we really are is words;

what you speak is everything that’s heard.

You are poetry;
I can see it in the jagged lines that run across your forehead,
I see it in your sad forced smiles-
And your curled fingers with your soul dipped ink dripping down your hand
You are covered in poetry so beautiful
But all you see is a broken girl
With a haunting past of a daddy that abandoned you
And an ex boyfriend who broke your heart
You think 'attempted suicide' is stamped across your forehead
But ****, you're the most beautiful thing I've seen
And your body is the most beautiful poetry I've read

It’ll come back to you
They keep telling me
But they don’t get it,
The way darkness creeps inside of my mind,
The way it makes my insides tremble so loudly-
My body’s natural response begins to follow suit,
My leg brushes against the corner of my desk
Just enough to be irritating;
Momentarily distracting me from the object of my attention
I stare at the same blank notebook in front of me
Until the lines begin to blur into one single color;
Hypnotizing me in an almost unbreakable trance
I can’t remember when I started losing myself,
Losing the things,
I thought once defined me
But somewhere…
Embedded beneath the buzzing distractions
My mind taunts me with,
Is one simple word etched into the center of it all
It’s been so long since anyone’s called me it-
A ‘writer’ that is,
My fingertips no longer remember the familiar smoothness
Of my favorite pencil,
My mind has gone dark,
My thoughts only continue to grow louder
Everything inside of me has vanished
Completely submerged into the darkness,
Covered in a sticky grotesque black
That stains everything it touches
I can’t see inside myself anymore
My fingertips don’t dare write a word
Of the war going on inside of my mind
Maybe, some things are better left unfound

I try to avoid picking up my pen
And scribbling down every thought that comes to mind
It's near impossible
I wish that I didn't think in poetry
That words people speak didn't just linger in the air
I'm so ******* tired of weary eyes and sleepless nights
Because my brain can't stop dreaming up words
I shake myself awake every hour
I know it's not the drugs or the liquor
Because the first thing I grab is my pen
The second be another glass of whiskey
Or coffee to keep my body happy
I don't like the way my brain works
In fact I don't like anything about me
I used to blame my parents for drowning me in disappointment
But I've come to realize that I'm disappointed in myself
And I'm drowning myself with the anchor I tied around my feet
Hoping that this time it'll be heavy enough to keep me down
If not maybe I should wear a noose around my neck
And see if that works better

Your eyes are vacant, not full of love like they used to be.
I gently brush your cheek but you don’t see me,
Not like you used to.
You reach over my shoulder, wrap your arms around me and say “I love you.”
I smile and hesitate before speaking,
Wondering if I should just say it back; I do.
Your freckles are embedded in your skin,
Like the way your thoughts become embedded in everything you do.
You soak up everything around you like the way a sponge gorges itself on water.
You watch people like the way you read books, quietly and unnoticed.
You hide yourself behind your stories and worlds,
Watching your characters take form and shape in front of you.
I can see it in your eyes,
The way they entice you and leap from your books.
I watch as the anchor is cast, and its claws sink further into you
Grabbing your attention in a way I never could.
I’m a writer after all, I should love this about you.
Don't get me wrong, I do
But I wish you'd pick your head up and look at me with those eyes-
The ones that wrap around me and comfort me,
The ones that see me naked and vulnerable, my truest self.
But I know if I can ask that of you,
Not anymore, because you just don't see me like you used to.
I remember the days when I'd catch you sneaking glimpses of me, But now our car rides are spent in silence,
Your eyes always averted outside and away from me.
I don't know when the ocean settled between us,
Or when words became so hard.
I don't know when the silences between us became worrisome rather than comforting and warm.
I don't know exactly when it started to feel this way,
When the 'us' separated into a 'you' and 'I',
But it wasn't always like this.
You used to dive into my soul head first,
Breathing me in like I was the only water that could quench your thirst.
There was a time when you used to exist in these places with me, not just beside me.
When you're next to me I can feel the way your breath shifts in the air,
The way you hesitate to let me in
And the way you don't dare step foot in the somber house that holds my mind.
Maybe I've let you see too much,
Maybe I shouldn't have invited you down the decaying steps of my spine and into my soul.
Maybe I regret it.
Letting you see this part of me.
Maybe I regret letting you make your home inside of the deepest parts of me,
Because now that you've decided to take up residency elsewhere,
I've never felt so alone.
Before we drift into darkness you pull me in every night
And give me one tight squeeze,
It's always just enough to let me know you’re still there,
Even if just by one single fiber.
Your body shuffles against the covers,
I don't need to look your way to know that you're already gone,
Back in your own space and away from mine.
I reach over and touch you
But to me you’re not there,
Present you may be, but no longer are you with me.

I.
Most days I’m great,
I’m pretty average looking but I’ve got a personality
That’s much bigger than my physical body
I’m goofy more than I’m serious
And I procrastinate more than I should
Most people call me the energizer bunny;
Always running around brining energy and smiles
Most days, that’s me.
Just your average normal person;
Not every day is perfect…
There are good days,
                      bad days,
                             better days,
                                  worse days &
                                         worser than worst
                                                          ­           d
                                                                        a
                                                     ­                      y
                                                        ­                       s


II.
How can a day be so bad that you make up your own version of “worse” you ask?
Well those days go something like this:
The air is heavy,
My senses are heightened
I can feel every droplet on my back
My lungs are tight, but not quite tight enough to be suffocating
My throat is dry, I can’t tell if I’m burning hot or freezing cold.
I get dressed, I go about my day.
There are good things.
There are bad things.
The bad things always stick on these kinds of days.
Inevitably, I can feel my anxiety begin to grow
It begins burning in my chest first,
I can feel the toxic attitude begin to bubble beneath my skin
Destroying everything inside
I am painted red with an unexplainable anger and rage
I sit alone, until my anger devours itself feeding on its toxic irrational thoughts


III.
This is when it happens, the (worser than worst)
It’s always when I let myself let go of the anger,
When my voice resumes its normal tone and pitch,
When my breathing is in sync with my heart,
And my once raging and thrashing thoughts
Begin to quiet and wind themselves down
It’s always when things start to feel okay again
Then it happens.
I’m walking in a crowded subway station
Hundreds of voices around me, yet they all drown out each other
Until a loud one breaks through the rhythmic hum of a busy commuter city
My body responds automatically searching for the noise
I see her in the distance,
Dressed in all black
For how cold it is, she’s not wearing nearly enough
She’s old.
Her face tells stories
Through the hard-pressed lines and crevices of her weather-beaten skin,
Her skin shows it all,
A Face that has laughed, cried, and experienced
Her eyes are glazed over
Chills run down my spine so suddenly I’m almost startled
It’s the eyes,
It’s always the eyes, they always trigger me
I can feel you in the atmosphere
Pressing your cold pale lips to my ear and whispering
“You couldn’t save me”
“You’re forgetting me”
“I won’t let you forget me”
I stand motionless trying to will my body to move
It doesn’t.
I watch the woman for a bit longer
Lost in her own world, eyes glazed over and lost
I feel sorry for her and then I feel it
Like all the muscles inside of me are suddenly limp and weak
With all my effort I push my feet off the ground
So, focused I don’t notice the tears streaming down my cheeks
I walk away in disappointment
I do what I do best,
I leave
And as I do, I hold my breath
And count
I count until the numbers feel right
And until I force myself to forget your presence
And the lingering guilt that still takes root
In the void you left behind.

IV.
Most days I’m great,
Just your average normal person,
Most days are easy enough to get through,

It’s the few days,
The ones spread so thin throughout the year
The days that remind me
That eyes are truly gateways into other places
It’s those days
That being to engulf the great days
Beneath its roots of your memory
And I am reminded that after all of these years,
If you can manage to keep resurrecting yourself
Through the people still on this planet
Than my words, will once again resurrect with you.
For you.

People ask me what it’s like to find women sexually attractive
Often I’m an outcast for liking the same ***
But in the lesbian world I’m an outcast for liking men too
It’s confusing really
There is no way to explain the way women are
And why they are so appealing to me
Not only is their outside appearance alluring and beautiful
But their insides are vulnerable, broken, and insecure
I like that, seeing a women shattered because of society
I like the honesty that encloses them in a blanket of insecurity
Men on the other hand
Well, they are strong and handsome on the outside
And a bit more emotional than you’d expect on the inside
There really isn’t a reason why I’m attracted to both sexes
I just am, I was born this way I suppose
I say I suppose because I am not quite sure
how the whole human nature and sexuality thing works
Men and women are both appealing
Their minds differ so much that I crave both
Call me selfish;
Because I am
I crave to know human nature in any form it comes
Man or woman, I will not judge

I can feel the anger pulsate through my blood stream
It travels full circuit in less than a second
I can feel the pounding of it cause a headache that screams and bellows through my skull
When I look down at my wrist I can see the blackness traveling through my veins
It creates black shadowed trees, wishing that I would set it free from the poison
It taunts me and begs for the kisses of razor sharp blades
My own veins would rather be cut open than feel the poison traveling within it
As for my mind, there is no escaping that.
No razor blades to kiss it better
And no medication strong enough to will the screaming echoes away

On your 20th birthday;
You deserve the happy that comes before the birthday,
Because you've made it yet Another day,
Another month,
Another year.
So I hope the liquor tastes a little bit better,
Maybe it's sweeter now that you're older.
I can almost taste the adolescence that still stains your lips.
But you're not done growing up just yet my dear.
Oh what a world you have yet to discover,
A world that can only be found through innocent mistakes and coming of age.
Each year you'll see things a little differently,
But I pray to God you never take it for granted.
Don't you know, I think you're beautiful?
But I won't compare your eyes to the vast ocean;
I won't compare your body to the galaxies
That's all been done before,
So I'll give you a little something more:

Flood my mind with your deep dark secrets;
Let me explore every piece of you,
Let me devour your thoughts as if they were my own,
Let me be better than your bedroom walls-
Whom you whisper all your problems to.
I won't leave you in silence and force you to swallow your words back down;
I'll listen to your thoughts; good or bad
And if your very soul drips with despair
I'll lend you a piece of mine to help pass the time.  

Enough of the ****** poetry;
Take a ******* shot for me
I wish I could be there to catch you
As the lines become more and more blurry
And your body starts to waver back and forth as you try to get from point A to B
I wont be able to hold your hair back
When all the liquor you've drank decides to steal the lime light;
But I'm sure you'll be in good company-
A best friend to tie your hair and rub your back
So with that said...
Happy birthday, beauty
I'm proud of you for making it this far.

I would like to know,
Do you take away the poet
If you take away pain?

Choosing sobriety has taught me
An inner strength I never knew I had
It has taught me subtle goodbyes
And doors slammed shut
Sobriety has taught me
That the cure for loneliness isn’t found
At the bottom of a bowl or bottle
But in the chasam of your heart
It has taught me the beauty of the void,
And exactly how to fill it:
There is love for myself,
That looks like grace and forgiveness
There is strength in choosing being alone,
Without sugar coating the pain of my insecurities
Sobriety has taught me
I am an unbreakable whole
I do not need people or drugs to distract me,
Just a pen and a paper,
Free to create my own reality

"I miss your love"
she said.

I used to write you poetry.
Last Christmas I made you a journal;
You loved that.

"Things are different. It's a really strange change, isn't it?"
I replied.

"Yeah they are different, you don't love me anymore."
"I miss your cuddles. And your laughter. "
"But mostly your love."

Your three texts remain unopened.
They've been haunting my phone screen
For the past hour now.
And that's how the unsaid things remain unsaid.

You apologized for venting to me
"I'm sorry for talking about this" you wrote
And I just stared at my phone
Knowing I'm the only one you can really talk to
It pained me to tell you that a love like yours does not grow cold
And a love like yours will make it
If you both try hard enough;
Despite your ****** up history and the silence you're burdened with now
It pained me to tell you that soulmates do not give up on each other-
Every word I typed felt like a stab to my chest
But I love you so much
And thats the consequence of love...
You're hung up on him
And I'm hung up on you
I'm only trying to be your rock
So you can be happy
Isn't that what 'best friends' do?

Society tries to convince me fireworks are beautiful
But I really just taste a little of heaven and hell on holidays
I still have some terrible image of the ball dropping three years ago on New Years
The same sickening, nauseous, gut feeling Like the one I have now
It’s the same feeling I had when I took the plan B pill after celebrating the new year too hard
The thing is-
It isn’t any different now;
I can hear the fireworks explode in tiny pockets of my mind
And I can see the sky burst with life for two or three seconds
Before the color flickers and dies
But I can also taste the salt of your fingertips on my lips
And I can feel your rough hand close around my throat
I can still feel myself cough ‘no’ through your fingers
And in my mind I’m still praying to god that I’m dreaming
Holidays are supposed to be a little slice of heaven; a break from the chains of this world,
But I just taste hell;
This isn’t anything like three years ago, it isn’t hell-
I’m sitting next to my sister listening to the fireworks
I can smell the ***** on my breath and
Taste all the delicious food we made
The thing about holidays is that they aren’t made to be forgotten;
We celebrate because the triumphs of the past-
Only when everyone is celebrating
I’m trapped in some claustrophobic prison because of the past
Every firework sends chills down my spine
And I can taste your hands shoving my mouth closed
And feel your hands close around my throat so tight you leave bruises
I don’t like to remember but it’s impossible
Some things never change; they just sort of fade
I mean look at us;
We’re all here celebrating something that happened years ago -

Your eyes are the shimmers of gold within an ocean of brown,
The sun rays dancing along bark after a beautiful storm
You could hold my gaze forever with your eyes alone
I lose myself in your blank stare
Just trying to chase after the thoughts you keep silently in your mind

Your lips are the color of pastel painted across a canvas
The collision of colors until it forces a soft magenta
Mild and gentle but ever so captivating

Your smile washes me in serenity
As if my veins become a steady stream
With flowers blooming in the pit of my stomach
You wash over me like sunrises wash over mountains
You slowly rise above the walls I've built
Until finally you begin to drip on pieces of my soul
Like the sun drenches the sky
As it's yolk cracks over the horizon

Her collar bones are like shelves
Begging to be touched
But I bet passerby's don't notice
Her left one is bigger than her right
I kiss that one most,
I trace my fingertips along the frame
That supports her
And I'll trace over her rib cage
Like I'm planting flowers between them
Hoping that one day it'll sprout flowers
All the way to her mouth
And that one day they'll touch her heart
In a way that tickles all of her insides
And I wish her eyes we're really windows into her soul
Because I swear even though they're not
I can't seem to ever find my way
Out of her dark chestnut eyes
I'll kiss the knots of her spine
And hope that the way I kiss her
Feels differently than the way she's ever been kissed before
I trace her freckles
As if I'm touching her for the first time
My god every time I touch her
I feel like shes writing poetry into my skin
And I don't ever want to stop feeling her
I want my body to be covered in her poetry.

The foot prints on the moon are permanently engraved into the soil
Just as the tire tracks from our technology will not disappear
For the moon has no wind
It is steady and unchanging
Like knowing the sun will rise each day
And the moon will guide our darkest nights
It's as unwavering as the alignment of constellations
And the gravitational pull of planets
But what if...
One day the sun did not rise;
And the moon did not lead us in darkness
What if the traces left on the moon
Were all mysteriously erased?
Like one day waking up to an empty bed
With the suitcases gone
And no trace of that person at all