The thing about people
Is you can scream your feelings
You can post them online
You can send them your poems
But they can never feel the way you feel
So maybe expressing it never really happens

And like the click of my front door something shifts
And everything goes dark
And everything goes blurry
And I’m not sure where I went wrong
But I reach for your hand every time

Cuz mama when it boils down to it we’re all fools
And I’ve become the monster that lets him believe he can fool me more than once

Glassy and red
But oh so crystal blue
They’re beautiful
When you make me cry

I always miss you the most in the spring time
I remember your flower shirts and linen pants
The way you would insist on brushing my hair 100 times a night on the front porch
How you always pretended you didn’t like your birthday
As your eyes glowed behind the candle light
You always seemed the lightest
The closest to your faith
The most comfortable
When the birds began singing
And the wind blew through the cherry blossoms

What is it called when the very act of being near someone makes you want to drive full speed off of a cliff?

But you can’t be without them.

Every thought runs through my eyes
He reads my face
And repeats back my biggest fears to me loud and clear
“Yes I can tell your lost”
“Yes I know I’m perfect for you but you’re too afraid”
“Yes your ******* this up”

Takes the reigns right from my hands unbothered and leaves me shaking in the passenger seat.

I want to suffocate your memory.
I want to burn your image.
I want to record over the soundtrack of your voice with a thousand new songs
Each day I wake up I dig your grave deeper.
It’s become so deep that the dirt has begun to fall on me
If only I could drag you down with me.

It seems I’m in a loop
I create new shelters
Shovel clear a new path after each storm
I ******* new boots
But each path I walk is desecrated with time

And the shovel gets heavier
And the boots get tighter
And my joints are stiff
And I wonder how long I can do this

I wonder if the stable eras are worth it
If I survive another one does the me from before still survive
Is she proud?

The urgency to call you has faded most days
Sun rises and sets and I tell no one about what happens in between
And it’s freeing, but also it’s isolating
It is a reminder that all I ever had was the conversations I have in the dark

The crank of the pump is audible maybe for the first time
Drops joining a full line endlessly pouring into the vein
Skin so thin I can almost perceive the flow of morphine.. or is it blood?
I can count her bones as I clean
A pressure so light like when I was an infant and my father tickled my toes
No muscle or fat remaining they’ve already rejoined nature
But then the chest balloons, one shallow breath falling into step with mine
Sending a shudder down my spine like I’ve been electrocuted
Both of us hold our breath as i roll her bones
Black pools of blood on her back
Like ink spilling out on the page
vying to get out
And tell her story

As I struggle for oxygen
And swallow the lump in my throat
I remember the way you saved me

As I skip breakfast
And walk for more and more miles each day
I remember how you praised me

I am as broken as I always was
And I remember what a beautiful thing to be