God loves me,
doesn't He want me to be happy?
why must He do this
again and again
why,
why must I quaver with self doubt
bring myself to tears with doubt and shame
no one should feel like this, no one should be afraid
that their love for another person will send them to burn
for eternity- my eternity cannot be spent with someone else
and I am in agony, I feel as though
part of me is ripping in half
why do they tell me that it's because of sin
when it's just because they've been telling me
how dangerous and how evil, how wrong it is
that my soul wants something contrary to God's will
they've been telling me this over and over my whole life
it has never felt anything but right between me and God
until someone else came in and told me it wasn't
and I'm not sinning, I'm not acting, its just
the shape of my heart is different than they say God wants
but God fashioned my heart, didn't He?
did He not hold it in his hands and mold it with His fingertips,
teaching it how and whom to love
so that one day I may use it?
did He not plan every part of my heart out and
write my past and future,
why is it that I must ignore what He has written
into me with every pump of His own handiwork?

Put ice on your wrists,
Or wherever the scars usually appear,
And hold it for five to ten minutes,
The urge should disappear,
Along with the sensation in your veins
The signals to you
That you're about to black out.

If you don't have ice,
Apply pressure with your hands.
Bonus points if they're cold.

Don't allow yourself to become too aware
Of the blood in your veins.

Breathing exercises help too,
And while you're at it try grounding yourself.

Count how many things you can see up to five.
Then count four things you can hear.
Three you can touch,
Two you can smell,
And one you can taste.

Make a list of what calms you,
Make a list of what gives you bliss,
See how many things go between each.

Talk  yourself down,
Remind yourself you can't do this.
Remind yourself you have to remember.

Don't focus on the trigger.
Forget it,
Quickly.

Distract yourself.
Something you can hear-- Music.
Something you can taste-- Gum.
Something you can feel-- Your lion.
Something you can smell-- His sweatshirt.
But what do you focus on?

You can't seem to find a fixed point to keep your eyes on,
And the threat of a black out is receding,
But why did it start?

You can't even remember what set you off.

Your hands are soaked.
The ice cubes melted on your wrists.

He's the son of the wind and the ocean
I'm the son of the mountains and the trees
The water is his element and i, the earth
His cool demeanor made the rock beneath me
Melt becoming quicksand
******* me into the cold, dark ground below
When he comes close,
Everything feels right
When he touches my skin,
Tremors appear like the remnants of earthquakes
When he says my name,
The mountains recede,
And the birds sing brighter
But the geography does not align
Alas, the mountains will never move
To meet the ocean
Only the wind from coastlines
Can meet with the canopies of the trees
But, the waters cannot flood the summit
and, thus, we can never be.

I
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public
doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

II
O the valley in the summer where I and my John
Beside the deep river would walk on and on
While the flowers at our feet and the birds up above
Argued so sweetly on reciprocal love,
And I leaned on his shoulder; 'O Johnny, let's play':
But he frowned like thunder and he went away.
O that Friday near Christmas as I well recall
When we went to the Charity Matinee Ball,
The floor was so smooth and the band was so loud
And Johnny so handsome I felt so proud;
'Squeeze me tighter, dear Johnny, let's dance till it's day':
But he frowned like thunder and he went away.
Shall I ever forget at the Grand Opera
When music poured out of each wonderful star?
Diamonds and pearls they hung dazzling down
Over each silver and golden silk gown;
'O John I'm in heaven,' I whispered to say:
But he frowned like thunder and he went away.
O but he was fair as a garden in flower,
As slender and tall as the great Eiffel Tower,
When the waltz throbbed out on the long promenade
O his eyes and his smile they went straight to my heart;
'O marry me, Johnny, I'll love and obey':
But he frowned like thunder and he went away.
O last night I dreamed of you, Johnny, my lover,
You'd the sun on one arm and the moon on the other,
The sea it was blue and the grass it was green,
Every star rattled a round tambourine;
Ten thousand miles deep in a pit there I lay:
But you frowned like thunder and you went away.

The fountains mingle with the river
And the rivers with the ocean,
The winds of Heaven mix for ever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single,
All things by a law divine
In one spirit meet and mingle—
Why not I with thine?

See the mountains kiss high Heaven
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister-flower would be forgiven
If it disdained its brother;
And the sunlight clasps the earth,
And the moonbeams kiss the sea—
What are all these kissings worth
If thou kiss not me?

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine

Puedo escribir los versos mas tristes esta noche.

Escribir, por ejemplo: 'La noche esta estrellada,
y tiritan, azules, los astros, a lo lejos.'

El viento de la noche gira en el cielo y canta.

Puedo escribir los versos mas tristes esta noche.
Yo la quise, y a veces ella tambien me quiso.

En las noches como esta la tuve entre mis brazos.
La bese tantas veces bajo el cielo infinito.

Ella me quiso, a veces yo tambien la queria.
Como no haber amado sus grandes ojos fijos.

Puedo escribir los versos mas tristes esta noche.
Pensar que no la tengo. Sentir que la he perdido.

Oir la noche inmensa, mas inmnesa sin ella.
Y el verso cae al alma como al pasto el rocio.

Que importa que mi amor no pudiera guadarla.
La noche esta estrellada y ella no esta conmigo.

Eso es todo. A lo lejos alguien canta. A lo lejos.
Mi alma no se contenta con haberla perdido.

Como para acercarla mi mirada la busca.
Mi corazon la busca, y ella no esta conmigo.

La misma noche que hace blanquear los mismos arboles.
Nosotros, los de entonces, ya no somos los mismos.

Ya no la quiero, es cierto, pero cuanto la quise.
Mi voz buscaba el viento para tocar su oido.

De otro. Sera de otro. Como antes de mis besos.
Su voz, su cuerpo claro. Sus ojos infinitos.

Ya no la quiero, es cierto, pero tal vez la quiero.
Es tan corto el amor, y es tan largo el olvido.

Porque en noches como esta la tuve entre mis brazos,
mi alma no se contenta con haberla perdido.

Aunque este sea el ultimo dolor que ella me causa,
y estos sean los ultimos versos que yo le escribo.