You keep saying to stop apologizing for leaving.
"It’s okay", you forgive me, "it’s alright", you forgive me.
How many times will it take before I realize that maybe I should be apologizing to myself?
Maybe my worst sin wasn't walking away from you,
maybe my worst sin was walking away from myself.

I haven’t been able to write for a while and I find myself knocking on the door of my mind wondering when something will come out next
I’m waiting for a surge of inspiration or a burst of creativity
But I keep finding myself to be entirely hollow
Writing has always been bittersweet for me;
I think it’s because the pen in my hand will only work if there’s pain behind the ink
I guess you could say that I’ve been scared to write anything new because I’m tired of reliving those memories with every broken sentence I write.
You see, if I heal the pain, my pen runs out of ink and I lose the passion
But if I keep feeding the pen in order to keep writing, I lose my happiness.
My life has always felt that way though.
I’ve always been in a dark room unable to see.
And maybe I’ve always had the tools in my hand to fix the light
But how am I supposed to fix something if I don’t know where it is?

Subtle lips drown sinking ships but sometimes things have to stay concealed
I am trying to keep the peace and I'm trying not to say anything that I'll regret but I can't quite swallow these words and they're beginning to burn being stuck in my throat for so long.
I think that you deserve to know just how wonderful you are but maybe while she's holding you in her arms isn't the best time to tell you.
I say that I want the best for you and that I want you to be happy but I just can't shake the thought that you seemed happier with me than you are with her but maybe you're just trying to spare my feelings.
I'm trying to read your mind but it's hard with so much distance between us
and I stay awake at night wondering if there are words burning your throat that keep you awake too or if they're only stuck in mine.
I guess I should apologize for the way that I'm coming across because maybe my intentions aren't clear.
I keep wondering if I've made all of this up.
I keep wondering if there ever even was an us
but I know that I miss us.
One thing I'm clear about is that you and I are a story that people spend their entire lives searching for.
She might be there with you but I promise that I can hold your heart tighter than she has ever held your hand.
I know that you've been trembling lately and feeling like you might collapse and I know that you've been trying to keep it all together and so it makes sense that you would need her to hold you to keep all of your pieces in place but I need you to know that even if you break, I will be there to help you pick up those beautiful pieces and create a life that's new.
I don't want to disrespect her and I'm not trying to push her aside but I'm just telling you that people have searched lifetimes for what you and I have found effortlessly.
Even after we were apart, the stars still led us home.
The constellations printed a map for us that led us back to one another and I don't think they did it on accident,
I don't believe it was a mistake.
We have always shared the night together and I can't think it's a coincidence that when the rest of the world is dark and quiet, you and I come alive with one another.
You feel so at home in my love and I feel so safe within your promises.
I wonder if she knows about me.
I wonder if she knows about the nights we used to spend together.
We were so close and yet the distance between us was thousands of miles.
I sometimes wonder if she feels distant to you but yet I feel so close still.
There are times I wonder if us coming back together reminds you if what love is supposed to feel like
but I guess I shouldn't be getting ahead of myself.
I shouldn't keep going.
I need to stop now before these words in my throat emerge and spill out of me and you know the depth of the palace you built inside of my heart and mind.

One, don’t let his hands be the first and last to touch me.
Two, please don’t leave me.
Three, help me forget him.
Four, I just need somebody.
Five, is this why you invited me over?
Six, are we really in love?
Seven, I shouldn’t be here.
Eight, why is “no” stuck in my throat.
Nine, we’ve already gone this far, why not?
Ten, let’s get this over with.
Eleven, please just go home.
Twelve, you almost make this feel real, how can I make you stay?
Thirteen, I’m a good friend for doing this.
Fourteen, I’m just trying to forget him, I’m sorry.
Fifteen, when will this end?
Sixteen, I knew this was all you wanted.
Seventeen, I owe you this, thanks for being so nice to me.
These are the thoughts that went through my head while I slept with you all.
It’s an obsession.
Counting the number of bodies who have taken over my own.
I can’t stop counting.
Somebody please make me stop counting.

Forgive me for being so disoriented, everything is crashing over my head and building up pressure that is begging to be released.
The ropes around my wrist are gone but the gashes they left behind are still bleeding.
I still feel helplessly bound to you. I still feel just as captive.
The voices from the cave are still echoing in my mind and despite how far I swim into the sea they rise above the roaring of the waves.
The water is freezing my bones but it isn’t nearly as cold as living in your lies.
You brought me to a land made of ice and shadows and you convinced me to call it my home.
Now I’m running away the best that I can.
I keep telling myself that eventually the current has to meet the shoreline but the waves keep rising up and if I’m honest, I’m tempted to let them take me under.
My choice is having my lungs cleansed by the water or having them drown in your deceit.
The cave is miles behind me so why does it feel like I could be pulled back in at any moment?
Why does it feel like you’re chasing me with stronger chains to bind me by?
I’m getting tired of wading and the voices keep growing louder.
I may be frozen but I will never be numb enough to escape the memories of you.
Let the waves overtake me.
Let the current force me under.
Let the waters have their way with me.
Let me finally find peace.

People keep asking me
"What do you want your life to look like in five years?"

they always cringe when I say
"I just want to fight long enough to open my eyes tomorrow morning."

Wild winds whistling
Timbering trees toppling
Fierce fires flaming
Mourning mountains melting
Relentless rain rushing
Hypnotic hurricanes hovering
Eroding earthquakes emerging
Overwhelmed oceans overflowing
Scorching storms stirring
Loathsome lightning lamenting
Aggravated avalanches agonizing
Panicked precipitation pounding
Ghostly gravity grieving
Chaotic cliffs corroding
Broken bones bending
Daunting darkness destroying

Without you, my world falls apart.

Sometimes saying yes is easier than saying no and because of that, I can’t call myself a victim.
I didn’t technically say yes, but I technically didn’t say no.
What happened was that he leaned into me closely and he whispered in my ear what he had been planning to do to me.
The ways that he had dreamed of riping apart my body limb by limb.
How he would take his time on each and every inch of my body until I was unable to move and how it would be so intense my body would still shake for hours afterwards.
To him, it sounded like a fantasy. To me, it sounded like a massacre.
My heart started to race and my blood grew cold.
My veins filled with the blasting sound of sirens that couldn’t seem to make it past the concrete that had filled my throat.
I couldn’t say no.
I couldn’t say anything.
I doubted that my body would be left shaking because my body froze so quickly that I couldn’t move any part of it at all.
He began to tear my clothes as though it was Christmas and my body was the present under the tree that he had been waiting months to get his hands on.
Maybe I should have felt like a present, maybe it should have made me feel wanted.
But I didn’t feel wanted and I didn’t want to be a present.
I wanted to be coal. I wanted to be tossed aside and thrown out
I didn’t realize it would only be a matter of time before that happened too.
I won’t go into depth about how precisely he carried out every detail of his plan.
I won’t describe too thoroughly how his hands felt like sandpaper as he threw me around the room and how the saliva coming off of his tongue felt like acid burning my body with each and every taste that he took of me.
I won’t recount how many bite marks and bruises were left on my body the same way that skid marks are left on a road when somebody is trying to escape the scene of a crime too quickly.
What I will tell you though is that only real sandpaper was strong enough to get the feeling of his hands off of my body.
I’ll tell you that I can’t even close my eyes without seeing his lure down at me with a look that’s ignited by fires of pure desire and a hunger for stripping away last traces of innocence.
I’ll tell you that my clothes from that day were torn into shreds smaller than the pieces of shattered glass that fell to the floor as I broke every mirror inside of my house so that I wouldn’t have to look at myself again and feel the disgust of that day.
Pure, unfiltered, deathly disgust.
Enough to cause the acid in my stomach to rise into my mouth as I lean over toilet seats and sit on the shower floor with water so hot beating down on me as I pray that it melts the skin right off of my bones.
Disgust.
Disgust that I was over there. Disgust that I couldn’t see this coming.
Disgust that I had put myself in this position. Disgust that my body froze instead of deciding to fight.
I froze. I was frozen.
To call myself a victim just doesn’t seem fair.
With a body full of bricks and a throat filled with concrete I was frozen,
And I couldn’t say no.

The lighting of the parking lot that night should have told me everything I needed to know about our fate.
The grass stains never came out of my favorite jeans from our picnic at the park which I guess I’m thankful for because I don’t need to be reminded of the way they came unbuttoned so easily that summer.
The scent of your cigarettes still linger on my sweatshirt and after four years, it’s probably time that I either wash it or throw it away.
The scent hasn’t spread to the rest of my clothes yet but somehow they seem just as tainted.
Have I told you that I only adventure during fall and winter now?
I can’t venture out in the summer without seeing the shade of your eyes in the sky and I’ve learned to despise the sun for that.
My walls and ceilings still release the sound of your laugh sometimes and it’s in those moments that I miss you the most.
I can’t wait for the day that they finally detox from the sound and are set free from the memories but I can understand why they’d want to hold onto it a little bit longer.
The spraypaint murals downtown are still painted over by your goofy grin in my mind and that gas station on the corner is still haunted with burning desire.
There isn’t much I can do to escape your ghost, but I swear to you that I’m trying.

I gasp life-giving air into my lungs for the first time in a long time.
The trees provide a perfect shelter as they surround me on all sides.
Their roots are deep and the stability of this place is tangible in my bones.
It’s unfair to ask you to be my forest though.

The water crashes above the surface but I’m safe here under the waves.
The pressure covers me and grounds me into a sense of relief.
It’s calming enough to settle my anxious thoughts, it moves me steady.
I am swayed by the rhythm of the movement as the tides roll in and out.
It’s unfair to ask you to be my ocean though.

I reach the top and all of my hard works finally feels like it’s paid off.
I can look below and see how far I’ve come; I can see the victory of what I’ve accomplished.
This view gives me a new perspective of life and everything is starting to make sense.
It’s unfair to ask you to be the peak of my mountain though.

The drops hit my skin and I am reminded of what it feels like to be alive.
The timing is sometimes unpredictable but it makes me thankful that there is still some kind of consistency.
Now matter how many times it comes and goes, I know that it will always come back.
I know that it will bring beauty and growth and revive what once was dead.
It’s unfair to ask you to be my rain though.

The shutters are closed but the lights are on.
The boxes are finally unpacked and every item has found a place to dwell.
I never knew what it meant to abide, but I feel like I have finally found the definition.
This isn’t a place to come and go, this is a place I never want to leave.
It’s unfair to ask you to be my home though.

You can't be my forest.
You can't be my ocean.
You can't be my mountain peak.
You can't be my rain.
You can't be my home.

I'm sorry that I still ask you to be.

I need you to know that walking away from you is the biggest mistake I’ve ever made and I regret it each and every day.
I need you to know that it kills me wondering what could have been.
I need you to know that I painted my bedroom walls black because I couldn’t bear your shadow following me into my room every night when all I wanted was for you to be there with me.
I need you to know your shadow has a voice and it speaks to me in tones that I can’t escape from.
I need you to know that I stopped sleeping because I prefer sleepless nights over the nights you sway in and out of my dreams; it just isn't fair.
I need you to know that I only stopped listening because each beat reminded me of how desperately I wish I was listening to your heartbeat instead, but I’ll always still be your biggest fan.
I need you to know that even though you are so far away, I’m certain it was your hands that swerved my car back onto the road when all I wanted was to be wrapped around a telephone pole.
I need you to know that ashes of you fell down on me as I walked away and I have carried them in a locket around my heart ever since.
I need you to know that I only stopped saying good morning and good night because ever since I left I’ve been caught in a new moon and there’s no light surrounding me.
I need you to know that the last four years have been spent just wishing I could finally come back home.
I need you to know that I shutter at the thought of her beside you.
I need you to know that I was counting on it being me.
I need you to know that I wish it was me.

And although I can never tell you how I truly feel, I need you to know.

I went back home but it was a little too late
Someone had come in and taken my place
Now where do I go and what do I do
When all this time I thought I belonged with you

But you ran to me saying "why did you leave
You walked away just when I started to believe
How was I supposed to know one day you’d return
Did you honestly think I’d just let this house burn?

The sun can’t just stop shining because you were gone
I had to pick up my life and find a place I belonged
I thought that it was supposed to be with you,
But you left me no choice, what was I to do?"

So I walked away from the house and into the storm
But it isn’t your fault, I had wasted my turn
And as much as I wish, I don’t think you’ll ever see
Just how much that decision ruined me

The clocks are slowly creeping and I know that it’s been killing you
Don’t tell me how much time we’ve wasted waiting for unspoken words to come up for air;
I know you’ve been counting the seconds as they pass.
I keep coughing up old promises that got lost somewhere along our path
My lungs can’t handle the dust of our old dreams any longer.
Trying to swallow gravel isn’t as easy as it seems
But thankfully my throat is already numb from the words that have been buried there for years
I’m trying to keep my head above water but I can’t help throwing myself under knowing that you’re drowning too
It would make sense for me to try to save you but I’d rather us go down together because we’ve never succeeded living at peace above the waves.
This might make everything sound hopeless but you and I both know I’ve always had too much faith in us.
These seconds are all that I have left and I am trying to savor them before you’re pulled away again
All that I know is that I’d cross every ocean until one of them leads me to you.

I hear you call my name from the darkness and I thoughtlessly go out to find you.
The clouds of thorns are thick;
they tear my skin apart as I blindly stumble along the trail.
I follow the sound of your voice as you lure me deeper and deeper.
It was like a tease, the same way you would pull me close and then push me away.
I'm set on finding you.
I'm determined to bring you home with me.
The space around me becomes more and more narrow and my heart begins to race.
My thoughts are drowning in fear but I push it all aside in order to find you.
I freeze as I try to listen for you calling my name;
I can't hear you.
I can't hear anything.
Only silence.
The darkness begins to surround me as my airways tighten in panic.
I was here to save you, but now I'm the one needing to be saved.
"Please. Stop. This isn't fun anymore."
I cry.
I'm begging.
My stomach is turning and my heart is thumping.
Something grabs my arms and pulls me further into the abyss.
I trip and fall.
I'm a ragdoll being carried across the thorns and rocks by one arm while the rest of me falls behind.
My body now covered in gashes;
they pour out blood the same color as your favorite red lipstick on me.
I scream out your name.
I scream for you to come save me.
I wonder if you can even hear me.
I need you to save me.
As I'm pulled further and further, I start to fade out.
I see a ray of light ahead and I know it has to be you.
I try to escape the grip of whoever is holding onto me;
He must be a demon. A beast. A prince of darkness.
He thrashes me around and throws me to the ground again.
Time and time again he throws me to the ground.
His hits make contact with my body and I yelp in pain.
His kicks force my body to bend in ways it never should.
I hear my bones snap and feel the blood pouring out
but all I can think about is you.
I need to make it to the light.
I need to get to you.
He finally stops dragging me along.
He picks me up from off of the ground and gently grabs my hand.
His hands are rough and dry, I know this feeling from somewhere.
I don't understand. I'm too scared to ask.
I can feel his body turn toward me and shift my waist to face him.
He pulls me close and pushes me away.
I know this dance from somehow.
All of a sudden, the realization hits me like a whirlwind.
It can't be.
Please tell me that it can't be.
He pulls me close again and I can feel him grab my face.
I squirm but I'm unable to move far.
He kisses me; his lips familiar in formation on mine.
I know that he is you.
"Can we please go back into the light?"
I'm crying again. I'm begging.
Please don't let this be true.
You grab my hand and walk with me toward the light.
As we are walking, the light goes further and further into the distance.
It's unreachable. It's unobtainable.
I'm running toward it, trying to believe that we can still make it.
I hear you laughing.
I fall to the floor, unable to see anything around me.
My hands are in my hair.
My clothes are stained by my tears.
You come find me and pick me up off of the ground.
I need you close, I need this to not be real.
You pull me into you and when it feels like I can finally breathe again, you throw me aside and I fall into the thorns.
You laugh again as though this is your favorite new game.
My body is breaking open.
My heart is emptied of any hope.
My mind is racing with options and questions.
Do I stay in the darkness with you or do I try and save myself?
I know my choice. It's an easy decision.
I fight my way out of the thorns.
I stand up again and try to collect myself before doing anything else.
"Breathe, you can do this," I whisper to myself.
I look around for the light and once I can see it, I take a step forward.
Soon, I am running. I'm running as fast as I can.
But I'm not running toward the light,
I'm running to you.
My choice is still you.

The only peace I find these days are in the middle of a storm;
I know it sounds weird.
Everybody begins running inside but it brings me peace finally knowing the only storm isn’t the one raging inside of me,
at least for a few minutes.
I see the rain start filling the streets and I can finally take a deep breath because I’m not the only one drowning anymore,
at least for now.
Everybody starts making preparations and stocking up on items and for once, I’m not the only one going through the motions in order to be okay.

Content Warning: ****** Assault



I played piano for the first time in ten years;
the keys were gentle and smooth on my skin in a way that your hands never were.
I expected to feel the sting, I expected to feel the sharpness, I expected it to burn the same way that you burned me that day.
I don’t know what took me so long to sit back down and try to play but I can only imagine it’s because I thought every time I played I would think of you.
I would think of what I wore that day, what I smelled on your clothes, what I remember talking about, the song you were playing for me while I sipped on a drink that you made just for me with your own little twist.
I would think of all the details of that day until there were no memories to remember, just faint flashbacks of images and sensations.
I can’t remember the event, but my body does and I feel it everyday.
I feel the way that you devoured me and burned me and how I have felt as though I am nothing but ashes ever since then.
Yesterday I sat down and played the piano for the first time in ten years;
I played the song I had on repeat over and over for months and months after that day.
I played the song that kept me breathing at every moment when I wished that I would stop and the song that continually reminded me that I was still alive and still fighting.
I played it and I sang it as loudly as I could as though there was some way you would hear it.
I played it in a way to let myself know that you no longer have power over me, that you can no longer take something from me.
You no longer have the right to come in and steal from me.
You no longer have a part of my body.
You no longer have touched my skin.
When I see you at the grocery store I will no longer drop my items and ask somebody to walk me to my car.
When I see you on the road I will no longer take the first turn just to escape you.
I will not compulsively check my rear view mirror to make sure that you aren’t following me home.
Instead when I see you, I will look into your eyes.
I will no longer live in fear of you.
I have my own power now, and in that power, I forgive you.

To The Fall of Loneliness:
To waking up in tshirts too big for you in beds that belong to other people whose names you cannot remember, to adding a person onto your body count before adding them as a contact into your phone (if you ever do at all), to starving yourself to look your best for them, to sneaking out at midnight, to getting drunk in bars and ruining city hotel rooms, to the asthma attacks from their smoke, to the tension filled stares, to sleepless nights tangled in the arms of strangers, to trying to fill the void with whatever flesh and lust you can grab onto

To The Winter of New Beginnings:
To deleting the dating apps, to walking up behind him and seeing his galaxy blue eyes look into yours, to arcade games and flashing lights, to bookstore dates and coffee shops, to the smell of the acid in the air as you both stood in the rain laughing, to movie theaters every week, to finding every reason to see each other, to not being able to get enough of each other, to sweet forehead kisses and longing stares, to the beginning of something life changing

To The Spring of Falling In Love:
To the hour long phone calls where you talk about your day, to the pictures of you laughing and kissing and being full of contentment, to the nights falling asleep on his chest, to the coffees he would bring to your work on your hard days, to the grocery shopping dates, to the week long sleepovers, to the car rides where he would sing to you, to tracing “I love you” on his skin until you got the strength to say it, to meeting his friends and becoming part of the group, to feeling like you finally belong, to the whispers of forever

To The Summer of Heartbreak:
To the shaking hands and the shallow pit, to rereading the old texts, to sleeping in his shirt since it’s all you have left of him, to the texts you type out over and over again but never send, to accidentally taking the exit to his house day after day after day, to the nights you wake up screaming his name, to the unanswered questions, to the mascara stained pillowcase, to ordering his favorite things before realizing he’s not yours anymore, to breakdowns and miscommunications, to the weeks without eating, to the begging for him back, to the realization that he no longer cares, to crying endlessly, to the days you can’t get out of bed, to hating yourself for your mistake, to wanting to fix it, to wishing you could fill this void with whatever flesh and lust is available to grab onto

Those big blue eyes
I swear he held the entire ocean in them
Yet here I am on the shore trying to scoop the water with my trembling hands.
With my trembling hands I am trying to hold him,
I should have known I never could.
His hair,
Ashy, golden blonde, streaks gentle enough to persuade me.
His hands,
Rough and dry, yet so calming as he cupped my face to kiss me.
He traded places with the sun and he knew it.
He knew I would orbit around him.
How his words would haunt me
How his voice would follow me
Day by day, I am pulled into him.
Night by night, I am begging for him.
He looked down at me,
Hovering,
Smiling,
And in that moment, I held the ocean.
He allowed me to hold the ocean and now I am the shore.
He will crash into me and I will absorb him.
I know he will leave me
But I know that he will be back.
I know that soon enough he will crash over me
And I will absorb him yet again before he disappears.

She tells me to write it out until I heal
But how can I heal when writing it out just causes retraumatization?
Maybe we should work on coping skills before we get to this point.
No doubt she’ll ask me how I felt when writing it and how I coped with those emotions.
I’ll tell her that it made me ***** and so I started drinking alcohol so that I had something else to blame the sickness on.
She’ll probably tell me that it’s an unhealthy coping mechanism and that I need to allow myself to feel all of those feelings that come up
And I’ll tell her that if she felt the roughness of your hands on her,
She’d drink to forget too.

Where are you?
My mind starts to wander to all the places you could be.
I cringe.
The thought of you out there without me makes my bones groan and my body tremble.
My hands haven't stopped shaking since you left.
I ran out of tears to cry, but if I could, I would cry.
Every day is a fight to get out of bed, except for the fact that I burned my bed because I've started running from the sleepless nights where you sway in and out of my dreams.
In my dreams, you're holding me.
I can't do it anymore.
I can't have you in my dreams and wake up to nothing except for the brief flashbacks of you being here.
I run to the ocean, my only safe place left, but even that is tainted since you walked away.
The tide doesn't roll in empty handed;
It brings in memories of you with each wave in the same sense that the demons come at night with memories of you to haunt me.
I need you here.
I need you here.
I need you here.
I know that I have the story wrong though.
I know that you didn't leave.
I pushed you out.
I built up walls and expected you to climb them.
I know you tried to climb them.
I know that you tried to climb until your body began to shake and you were out of breath.
I know that I locked the door behind me.
But can't you see that I gave you the key?
Can't you be here now?
Can't you come home?

My hands have been tied behind my back for far too long
But I guess it doesn’t matter because everything has always been out of my reach anyway.
Maybe this is for the best,
There’s been too many times I’ve tried to grab onto things that weren’t mine to grab onto.
No matter how hard I try, you’re always slipping out of my grasp
Kind of like those grains of sand I could never keep in my hands.
They slowly find their way of escaping, just like you did.
They say what’s meant to be will find it’s way to you
But all my life the roads I've followed have lead me further from home,
If such a place even exists.
The ties around my wrists are starting to burn,
I can’t help but wish they were around my neck instead.
I probably shouldn’t say that out loud though.
I keep reaching out for you even though I know you’re not here
And I guess that’s why I’m thankful my hands are tied.

2 a.m.
Sitting on the rock walls
Listening to the crashing waves
Bringing back memories of you
Revisiting visions of dreams we had
Relentless roaring of the ocean
My thoughts of you still louder
Looking for shooting stars
Desperate to make a wish for you
The brightness of the moon
Reminding me of your smile
Thinking of your hands
How you would hold me
If only you had the chance to
Would you let me run to you?
Would you let me follow the roads
Until I was there with you?
I would leave this behind
I will leave the crashing waves
And chase highway signs instead
I would trade it all
I wouldn’t look back
I would run to you
I would choose you
Would you let me?

I’ve been clinging onto you so tightly
and yet my hands are still empty.

I'm dreaming of the way your body fits with mine
and the way your hands so easily tangle in my hair.
I’m dreaming of your kisses across my collarbone
and your fingertips trailing down my spine

I’m longing to feel your gentle touch so strongly across my skin

Words keep spilling out of my mouth and my control is running thin these days.
I can’t stop my lips from forming the words that every part of me wants to share with you, but I know that I never can, it’s too late now.
I’m drinking these bottles as though there’s a message from you at the bottom of them,
I haven’t found it yet, but I keep telling myself it’s at the bottom of the next one.
I was told the alcohol would make me forget, but it only makes me remember.
I’m not sure I remember correctly though.
I see myself standing beside you, but in reality, I was in the car driving away.
From your point of view, it looked like I was leaving.
What you couldn’t see was me screaming and fighting,
fighting for the car doors to unlock so that I could run back into your arms.
What you couldn’t see is what I needed you to see, but I guess we can’t change that now.

I remember that night so clearly
How the moonlight lit up our faces and left freckles on our cheeks,
How the breeze left us shivering on the outside, but on the inside we were glowing,
How the music became background noise to inside jokes and whispered secrets,
How our eyes gleamed with a love too deep for our mouths to speak,
How we made plans for the future and how we wished they could come true tomorrow.
I remember it all so well,

Your words held me even when your arms couldn’t.
Your promises showed me that I had finally found shelter.
In the darkness of the night, there was only radiant light.

People keep saying to me “you’re going to be okay”
“You’re going to be okay” “It’s going to be okay” “It will all be okay”
These words remind me of the razors that I used to tear my skin open with
The only difference is that the razors brought some sort of relief.
There’s no relief behind these words and if anything, it just makes everything worse.
They push me further back into the darkness, or maybe I let them, because if I’m far enough back,
They can’t see me.
If they can’t see me, they’ll never be disappointed in knowing that it never got better.
They say it with such assurance and some days I wish that I could believe them.
They tell me that my eyes will shine again someday, that someday I’ll smile with my teeth.
I stare in the mirror imagining what it will be like.
All I see are blackened eyes looking for an escape route
And a smile that’s been void of anything other than polite manners and a poor attempt of hiding the pain.

You twist the blades in just the right places to make me numb.
You’ll say I asked for this and to be honest,
It wouldn’t surprise me if I did.
There are whispers stuck in my shadow except they’ve learned to call it their home.
I’ve tried to cut them off in the same way that I’ve tried to cut off the extra masses hanging from my stomach.
Maybe if I starve myself long enough, my shadow will become so small that the voices will be forced to leave.
They’ve settled within the coldness of my shadow and have learned to embrace the darkness of it.
They speak in tones that I can’t unhear
and suggest permanent plans to relieve the pain.
I keep trying to shut them out but they multiple in volume.
I’ve tried to speak truth over their lies,
But the truth is a muted and muzzled dog.
It may want to fight, but it has no power.
They say that there’s nothing I can do to get rid of them so I better learn to just listen.
I’m in agreement with them now and somehow I’m not afraid of it.
I’m not afraid of the plans that they suggest to me because maybe everybody else would be better off.
I’m not afraid of their whispers because they’ve become my only source of friendship.
Their voices echo through my mind the same way that a skipped rock will ripple the entire lake.
Drop by drop, it’s moved along.
Whisper by whisper, I’m convinced more.
They’ve taught me to settle in the coldness.
They’ve taught me to embrace the darkness.
I don’t go anywhere without my shadow now,
I don’t go anywhere without the familiar voices that have lead me home.
I’m almost gone from here, I’m almost there, and with every step, they’re guiding me.

There are some things that are too hard to say,
Too shameful to speak out loud.
So you keep them in, you stay silent.
You let them rot your organs and disassemble your bones.
You let them seep into your veins and create internal gashes that never heal or close.
They silence every other word; they destroy any sliver of hope.
They prowl around in your mind as they tell you that you’re to blame.
That this has happened before, you must put yourself in these situations.
That you wanted it.
That you asked for it.
That you were the one who went over there in the first place.
I didn’t want it.
I didn’t want that to happen to me.
People will ask why you stayed quiet.
They will ask why didn’t you go to the police.
But I’ll never tell anyone about it because there are some things that are too hard to say and too shameful to speak out loud.

You tell me write it out until it heals
Write it out until it heals
And I'm trying to tell you that I am trying to write it out until it heals
but I keep stumbling over my words
I keep tripping over my own lips
I keep stuttering
and with every stutter
with every extra syllable
it's an extra hole that I am digging into the chasms of my own heart that I am trying to heal
and I'm trying to tell you that I am trying
but trying isn't making a difference because it's not making anything better.
I keep trying to open up these boxes inside of my own heart that have been kept hidden away for so long
but they are covered in cobwebs and layered with dust
and I am paralyzed at the thought of opening them up
because if the outside is this tainted,
what could possibly be on the inside?

You tell me write it out until it heals
write it out until it heals
and I am trying to tell you that I am trying to write it out until it heals
but when I was younger someone once told me that to fill a hole you had to dig a hole somewhere else to get the extra dirt
And I think that's why everything is getting worse and why it's hurting so badly;
I am taking the dirt out of my own hole to fill others with.
I am not willing to empty others or to take the dirt from someone else.
I am not willing to take dirt from somebody else to fill my own hole
and maybe that is my weakness, maybe that is my problem
because I am now surrounded by people who are taking my dirt to fill their own holes.
I keep giving and giving and giving away of myself to fill these other people
except eventually I hit a point where I no longer had any dirt.
And I ran out of dirt.
I ran out of dirt and I have no more within me.
And what happened was that everybody left.
What happened was everybody deserted me because I no longer had any dirt to fill what they needed.
And I was on my own.
I was on my own and I was alone.

You tell me write it out until it heals,
write it out until it heals,
and I am trying to tell you that I am trying to write it out until it heals
but with every memory that I grab from that hidden box in my heart
it resurfaces five more memories that I had forgotten about
and I can't bear the weight of it by myself.
I can't bear the weight of what they did to me.
I can't bear this much weight
and I keep closing people out for fear of what they will see inside of this box
because if they look inside the box, I know that they will leave and it will be my own fault.
It will be me who caused them to leave,
it will be me, and I will be the only person to blame when they leave.
I will be the only person to blame when they see these boxes
I will be the only person to blame when they leave me
for who could stand by my side when I have such heavy burdens?
When I have these suitcases of memories and when I have these travel bags of pain that I carry around
who could stand by my side?
Nobody should have to take that on.
Nobody needs to take on
and so I remain untouchable, I remain afraid and alone
And I am not sure if there is any hope that I will ever break this curse.
And so I hide and so I isolate which only makes it so that I don't have to open these boxes.
And when these boxes remain unopened, they remain untouchable,
they remain untouchable and so I myself believed that I am untouchable
that I am not capable of receiving love
that I am not worthy of receiving love
and these memories are drowning me.

You tell me write it out until it heals,
write it out until it heals
and I am trying to tell you that I am trying to write it out until it heals