For the longest time
We were just the sun
And the moon
You producing endless light
And me reflecting it back
But then I realized
That maybe it’s not so great
Just being a dark rock
Only enlightened by you
Maybe I didn’t want to be the moon
Well maybe I want to be a star
Making my own light

They said it was an accident
That you had just slipped of the balcony
That you were just peering over the guardrail too far
Then you just slipped
But I knew what happened
I knew what happened the moment I saw you
Your little broken body slid out of the cold locker
Your nose crooked and your eyes puffy
Those once bright sapphire eyes stifly closed
I didn’t cry; I just stood there staring
“That’s her” I had croaked out
Then I walked away
You said you wouldn’t
I told you what would happen
Breathing in cold air I glanced quickly at the traffic below
“See you later alligator”
In a while crocodile

No I don’t miss you
No matter what I say
I do not miss you
I don’t miss our late night talks
I don’t miss your constant humming
I don’t miss us leaning on each other
I don’t ******* miss it
No matter what I say
Don’t listen to a word that I say
Because I cannot miss you

One foot in front of the other
That’s all there is to it
Control your breathing
Don’t get too excited
No one is there to hold your hand
It’s all up to you
The ledge was starting to look thin
Your legs are getting wobbly
Fatigue is making you want to give in
Step
       Step
Step
       Step
Slip—
But you never hit the ground
Because he’s there to catch you

My world was monochromatic
Full of one basic color scheme
But now it’s full of varying shades
More stunning than anything I’ve ever seen
He brings me a mood of many hues
Never ceasing to put put the mind to ease
Because before him I knew only shades of grey
And now I have more color than I’ll ever need

Don't you hate when games b̶̨̨̧̜̪̱̝̬͔̙̃́͂̽́͊̿̕ͅͅȓ̴̘̭͇̼̹͙̼͍̭̣̃͗͂̾̕e̵̢̧͔͖̺̩̣͍͉̼̩̮̱͛̐̓͝ͅà̸̙̔­̝k̶̖̥̓̄̃̑͂̊̅͘̕ the fourth wall

I
   am
         a
             statue
                       in
                           a
                              hall
                                     of
                                         mirrors

Anxiety.
A feeling of worry,
Nervousness,
Or unease,
Typically about an imminent event
Or something with an uncertain outcome
This exact definition comes from Webster
It doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface of this
Of what this feels like
It’s more like you’re stuck under water not able to take a breath
That crushing aching feeling ripping at your lungs
You get all hot and sweaty
This weird feeling builds in the back of your throat
Almost like you’re going to cry but never can
Then you get the shakes and it just gives you away
Or at least that’s how it is for me
It’s different with everyone who has it

You once said I was loud so I became quiet
You once said I was selfish so I started to care more for others than myself
You once said I was illiterate so I flooded my brain with books and inarticulate words
You once said I was ugly so I put on so much makeup I was borderline unrecognizable

Loud
Selfish
Illiterate
Ugly

But then it’s too quiet
Then it’s self neglectant
Then it’s nerd
Then it’s fake

I couldn’t do anything right

You once said I was ***** so I wore short skirts and crop tops just like the rest of them
You once said I was different so I fit as much of myself that I could into a perfect little mold
You once said I was husky so I stopped eating lunch
You once said I was lonely so I started befriending more guys than I could count

*****
Different
Husky
Lonely

But then it’s ******
Then it’s wanna be
Then it’s anorexic
Then it’s *****

Trying got me nowhere and i’ll never be like everyone else
But wait.
Why would I want to be?
Since when I did I care about all that?
I was not loud I am just expressive
I was not selfish I’m just not open
I was not illiterate I’m just still learning
I was not ugly I just have flaws

Why did I believe you in the first place?

I was not ***** I just rock a turtleneck
I was not different we are all unique
I was not husky I just had thighs for days
I was not lonely…am not lonely.

So why would I change myself for the likes of you?

Entwined bodies
Ushered speed
Parted lips
Hasty thrusts
Open legs
Red face
Intimate sounds
Agonizing Release

I am a paper girl with words on my skin and ink in my veins
I am a open book with stories to be told and secrets inside
I am a god of words with rhymes in my heart and a healing song
I am a comforting touch with a soft hand and a light peck on the cheek
I am a poet and with passion I enlighten the world with my resolution

I stand terrified.
Stone in my shoes.
Face to face with a monster.
The monster itself was crouched squeezing it's knees.
My gaze locked with wide emerald eyes. Staring deep revealing a clearer image.

Words written on every inch of the skin. Nothing bare.
No hint of clean scriptless skin.
Just ink.
The words themselves grotesque.
Deep descriptive fears of one's self.
Words that have been hidden but never forgotten.

Thin limbs.
Simply skin covering bone.
Just a thin barrier keeping the body safe.Fragile bony hands that were bound at the wrist.
Restricted.
Enchained.

The face was the worst.
Dark hollow cheeks.
Pale dry lips cracked from movement.
Dark craters lie under the pits that hold the soul.

I knew that face.
That face was mine.

Stardust in cupped hands A blow of the wind sends it off into the dark abyss. The only tiny sparks of light in that echoing space. Like a sudden strike of flint against stone.
Other darkness lurking in the unknown.
All others forgotten. No trace of kindness.
But that spark. That spark is all that was needed to ignite a flame. A flame that rages on an eternal flame. It dies but never eternally. Always a trace. A spark.

The glimmer of the sweat on your brow.
The light in your smile.
The throaty sound of your laugh.
The rays shining through the window in the passenger seat of your car.
The distance that slowly appeared.
The cold shoulder I got without as little as a reason why.
The nervous fidget of your hands as you spilled out an excuse.
The flush of your face when you told me we were done.
The the ice of the tears cried.
The day you left.

The creaks of the walls setting. The silent pitter of the leaky facet in the hall bathroom. That black stain on the entryway rug. The intoxicating light scent of lavender incense. These are the things that made home......home. Now its all a distant memory, for I have moved on. Moved out. Gone.