I am alive in the most basic sense of the word
breathing
moving
being
alive.

But I am still trying to find the things that make me live.

I've finally seen the most honest version of you.

With your lips on hers, and your bodies locked tight against each other, I finally saw you.

There isn't much to say, but when you look up and see where I stand now,

I hope you see the most unforgiving version of me.

Tightly is how he holds my hand.
Subtly is how I glance in your direction.
Within those stolen milliseconds I drink in every color of you my eyes catch.

The natural pink of your lips and of your flushed cheeks.
The blue, green, grey of your eyes.

I yearn to touch the yellow of your long hair, and marvel at the way it shines gold in the rays of the sun.
I love the faint purple under your eyes when you don't get enough sleep.
I even love the traces of brown under your fingernails from the earth.

Still, of all the colors and all the textures of you, the one I love the most isn't yours at all.
It's  the deep red you make me feel with even the slightest upward twitch of the left corner of your mouth, signaling that you feel my red even when I'm holding his hand.

It's the transparent recognition that you see me, seeing you.

I feel
Entirely
That I can’t let anyone know.

What hurts is that
Irrationally
I want people to understand without asking.

They don’t.

So when I check out
Temporarily
From myself and everyone I know

Forgive me.

When you first said "hello", I confessed my newfound love for you with an acknowledging smile.
When you shook my hand, I pulled your body to mine in the form of a slight squeeze of your fingers.
The moment you told me your name I asked you to never leave my side through the words, "Oh, I like that".
I conveyed my undying love, desire, hunger, and fondness of you wih the blush of my cheek and the ring of my laugh at your jokes that weren't that funny.

And even though I wasn't sure if you could hear me, I swear when you finally said goodbye, I could hear you.

I don't know how to let you love me.
You tell me it's by letting you give me your jacket when I'm cold.
You tell me it's by arguing back when you pick fights with me, because you know I'm too strong to just let you win like that.

You say it's by telling you what I'm feeling when I'm feeling it, and not keeping it all bottled up.
You tell me it's by letting you be the little spoon sometimes, even though you're bigger than me. You like to be held too.

I tell you I don't know how to let you love me, but you sure know how to make me love you.

I could feel you.
I could taste you on my lips.
I could hear every lie as truth.

I could love you.

Passion filled every word and every thought.
Filled every caress I imagined.

Imagined.
Pictured.
Dreamed of.

Dream. You were the worst kind of dream.

I could hate you; I do.
I could move on.
I could miss you nonetheless; I do.

I do.

I fixate.
Mostly, as a self loathing (or was it loving?) person, on myself.
When it’s not me it’s you, stranger.
Guy who smiles at me.
Girl who stares.
Adult who makes me feel like a kid, and kid who makes me feel like an adult.
I see you, seeing me, and I fixate on you until I can satisfyingly conclude that you either  
1. Don’t give a **** about me
or
2. Thought about me for a moment.

While I immediately want to know what you think of me, if you think of me, I remind myself that I am much more interested in knowing how long you carry me in your mind.
I, who fixates, will think of you often. I will think of you long and hard and I will stop when I find another whose face is fresh in my mind, while yours has faded like the blue in my favorite jeans.
I, who fixates, wonder how long it takes for me to fade in the mind of you, who doesn’t.

I wonder if you cried when I wrote "I hate mom" on that piece of notebook paper, when you made me mad for that thing I don't remember.

I wonder if you cried when I told you I didn't want you to come to my birthday party, because big girls didn't need their moms to watch over them.

I wonder if you cried when I yelled at you for trying to keep me away from the girls that used swear words, because you could trust me to know better at my wise age of thirteen.

I wonder if you cried when I replaced the "Mommy-Daughter" days with "Shut the door on your way out" days.

I wonder if you cried when I told you I would never come back when I finally moved out.
I wonder if you cried when I told you that I've smoked  ***.

I wonder if you cried when I hugged you for the first time in over 3 years, without being forced.

I wonder if you cried when I told you I needed you, even if I didn't always act like it.

I wonder if you cried when I told you that you were the person I loved most in the world.

I wonder if you've cried, mom, because I've only ever seen you smile.

I want to be light.

I want to be blown away by the wind.
I want to be lifted into the sky and never come back.  

I want my soul to forget what weighs it down and keep only what floats.

I want to feel baby pink, lace white, and sky blue.  

I want to feel free.

I want to be light.

Poison coursing through my veins
I drink and I drink and the lights are flashing as bodies are pressed hard against  each other
Melting
Fading into me, into you.
There are no names here
Nothing matters but the bass pulling us tighter
The poison fills me
Its sweet and bitter and I need it as bad as I need hands on my waist
Anchoring me here as the liquor threatens to pull me away.

Remembering every good thing hurts worse than the bad things you did.

Thinking of every pretty word you said cuts deeper than every name you called me.

Recalling how happy you made me then, leaves bigger scars than the ones left from how much I hate you now.

Let go. Let go. Let go.

It's hard to tell if the salty tears staining my cheeks are of sadness or relief.

Happiness or anger.

You destroy me and build me up stronger.
I love you when he's not around.

I love you when I hate him.

I want you, me, us.

But he remains. Staining my skin, my lips, my eyes and my words red.

When you did what you did,
I tied my hair back and rolled cuffs into my jeans.
I put on my work boots and started to pick up the pieces of myself that you spent all that time chipping away at.
I let myself look at each one, giving myself time.
It's hard to remember where everything went, but I tried my best.

There were days that I'd sit in the middle of it all and let it overwhelm me. There were days I would pretend you were still here, chipping comfortably away.

I didn't know it'd take so long. I didn't know it'd hurt so much.

But with my sleeves pushed back, I worked and I learned. I learned how to take care of my broken pieces. How to treat them gently and lovingly, even when I felt I had no more love left in me.

I don't know exactly when it happened, but it did.

You did what you did, and I did what I had to.

And suddenly I am whole again.

I feel every single day that the only things I know are those sitting next to me.
Those that are forward are too far for me to count on.

With one arm out and one at my side, I wait for someone to grab my wrist and pull.
Maybe then I’d have direction.
I want this to be heard like the church bells and adorning voices of the faithful.
But until that happens I’m here and I’m now and I just have to hope I’ll figure it out on my own.

I feel okay, I really do but every now and then I’d like to love you.  Whoever you are.
I’d like to hear your affirmations and dedications
But I know better than to think you’d be true.

Minutes are hours in the mind of someone who doesn’t know the difference between urgency and leisure
I’ll know one day, but until then you’ll have to understand because I’m not sure if when I apologize it’s for a mistake or for just being.

I’ve watched so much go by me. Flying with wings I somehow missed out on, and I feel sorry. Sorry enough to be bitter enough to stop caring and feeling and eventually I’m back to being sorry. I tell you not to worry because soon I’ll remember how to walk and I’ll meet you there, where everyone else is.

I didn't ******* ask for this.