My life is spent stacking bricks
Spreading mortar
Row by row
Piece by piece
Until I can no longer see the world beyond
The row turning to a wall
A wall turning into a cage
Rising past my eyes
Still not high enough to close me in but too high to turn back
Beyond my reach to begin to dismantle
So I continue to toil
Laying the last brick into my roof
Blocking the last star from shining on my face as I look to the night sky
Irreversible darkness descends
My heart is shut

I wish to wake one bright and easy morning
Free of the pain
And the sadness that pulls me to the depths of the sea like an anchor
Chained to my feet as I try to kick
Thrashing against that which is inevitable.
But perhaps this pain would be lessened, if I looked to my feet and saw the anchor
Instead of your hands grasped around my ankles
Clawing at my flesh until crimson paints the waves
Perhaps the pain comes not from drowning
But from knowing
That the cause has been you all along.

A poem only comes
To the tip of my tongue
And ripples down my limbs
When the sadness settles onto my shoulders
Like a river tumbling a rock
Until it shines

I feel with the saddest parts of my soul
The parts so tired, so old, so beaten and torn
The happiest moments, light like a feather, drift along the surface
Gently touching but never staying
Float away in a warm, calm breeze
Like a dream escaping from an opening eye

I feel with the saddest parts of my soul
The parts so resilient, so beautiful, made stronger through sorrow
Her scars are mine and mine hers
Held together by a lock with no key.

I’m sure that you believe the words you speak
As they roll off of your tongue like the tide following the moon
Words full of consolation meant to calm and heal
But where the years have made you kind
Those same years have made me wise
And as your words fall to my ears
All I can hear are lies

I’ve tried to fit in the spot
The hole where the puzzle is missing a piece
To cross my arms and twist my legs, hoping to create the shape
The shape that seems to fit effortlessly
The shape that they crave
The shape that they need me to be
The shape into which I cannot bend
Cannot shift
Cannot be
Leaving them to continue wishing that the last piece was not missing