That buzzing excitement
Before you come home.

And your hands
Holding mine
Is the only home I need.

I need your voice,
Your laugh,
Your presence.

Don't you see it?
It could be so easy,
So obviously
Portrayed.
You're everything,
Even the air I breathe.

No one ever said
Loving someone was supposed to be
Easy
But you make it so
Natural
Like you're all I've been needing
All that's been missing
Like you're all I needed
To keep going
And accomplish
What I need to.

You're the voice that steadies me,
The touch that grounds me,
And the only home
I've ever wanted to know.

There's nowhere
I need to go,
But I'd go anywhere
If it meant being by your side.

Wherever you are
Is home.

What doesn't **** you
Makes you stronger,
So please,
Begs your tugging heartstrings,
Hold on just a little bit longer!

And I can feel a darkness
Eroding your brilliant light.
It weathers and breaks and fractures,
Piece by painful piece.

Your brilliant colors,
Usually a beacon of light,
A signal for me,
Constantly shouting
This is home!
Fade into thoughts that consume.

What doesn't **** you
Makes you stronger,
So please,
Whispers a soft voice,
Hold on just a little bit longer.

And when you sleep,
The darkness edging
At the corner of your mind
Recedes,
And I know this
Because, though at a lull,
Your colors gleam and glow,
The familiarity warming me.

But you've been tossing and turning,
And digging your elbows into my back,
And I know this means you're not sleeping well,
But not being able to help--
Well, it's my private hell.

What doesn't **** you
Makes you stronger,
So please,
The words just don't fit,
Hold on just a little bit longer.

And life does terrible things.
And maybe we'll never understand.
And maybe there's just too much to lose,
But I'll risk everything,
If it means loving you.

Life does terrible things,
But it's what we make of it,
Right?
And while I doubt you'll let
The darker shades grow any more
Than they have,
It's still my job to worry.

What doesn't **** you
Makes you stronger
So please
I'll ask softly,
*Just hold on a little bit longer.

It astounds me
The way it sounds to me
When you almost-bitterly laugh,
Like it's so ridiculous and you're not quite
Getting the point or the question,
But you laugh anyway,
Because it's obvious to you when you explain
"I brag about you."
Or
"Because I love you."

And there's an edge to your voice,
But it's almost delightful,
It's a type of sharp warmth,
A type of stinging comfort.

It astounds me
The way it sounds to me,
When your voice is loving and gentle,
When you're understanding and kind.

And it's astounding
That you found me,
Whistling and singing and humming,
Amid the ashen trees and soot-stained grasses.

And among ever light step you took towards me
I would flit and fly away,
Leaving a trail of violet and daffodil petals in my wake.
But you perched in my tree,
And I buzzed and hummed along your trail to me,
And upon finding me and the burning embers
Of the fires I have a tendency to ignite,
You captured the remains of my heart
That you didn't already have,
And when I took to the sky,
You followed suit,
With a flight pattern a little more sensible,
A little more practiced than mine.
As though you were much more prepared
For the oncoming tidal waves of feelings,
Than I was for the familiarity of them.

She says it's nothing,
Because it should be nothing,
And She says it's nothing
Because it's so small,
Just like her,
That it's almost nothing anyway.

She says things like
I'm fine
And
It's okay
Because it's easier
Than breaking her front of strength
And showing you all the raw parts of her heart.

She swallows down hiccups and sobs,
And chokes out a broken and raspy
Don't worry about it.
Because she doesn't want to worry about it.

And most of the time
When  she doesn't talk to you
And she's angry
She's not angry at you,
She's angry at herself.

Because when she's good, she's great.
She's sunshine and brighter days
And warmth and care
And quick wit
And maternal instincts
And gentle touches
And firm stances.
It's all I love you's and this is where I belong

But when she's bad,
It's a kind of darkness she doesn't even fathom.
It's Why do I even bother?
And I don't fit anywhere

And I try so hard to be the best I can be
But I'm still not good enough.

She's rainstorms that send her into panic attacks,
She's flashbacks after flashbacks.
She's itching scars and aching wrists
And being able to feel the blood in your veins.
She's cold, too cold, so cold,
With a hot temper that flares and burns
Every bridge and person she's ever cared for.

She's a bird with a broken wing,
And she can fly
But try as she might it's never right.

And when she's bad, it's do you love me do you love me  do you love me
And when she gets worse it's suddenly and harshly
How could you love me?

She become shaking hands gripping the cold counter top for dear life,
Her need for self control begging her not to make a noise,
Not to cry or scream
Not to break the mirror--
But she wants to break the mirror because she can't stand the person she sees.

But when you reel her back in,
And pull her back down from her breakdown-esque break-away-from-you,
She's fragile and shaking,
But her pieces come back together strong enough to smile,
And she is small but she is slowly,
With ever the stubborn tenacity,
Getting better,
Getting stronger,
And more understanding.

Just remember to be gentle,
And when she asks you,
With fear hindering her vocal chords,
Making her all the more soft spoken,
"Am I really so bad?"

Remind her exactly why
You see anything in her at all.

I'm done
with being hopeless.

I am done
with feeling defeated.

it is easy
to wallow in pity

but it is right
to stand back up.

I might never
belong
but my heart
will always
belong to you.

you help me be strong
when my knees feel weak,
you show me light
when I can only focus on the shadows.

you are my soft song
above the deafening silence.

you are my sunlight
my summer breeze
my giddy hope for life
and my Bluebird of Peace.

amid all the chaos
you ground me again,
and keep me from drifting off
into oblivion.

you've shown me
that I am better
as me.
and through out small actions,
and little bits of subconscious love,
you've shown me that
I can be a better me
if only I trust in you.

and trust in you I will continue to do.

The galaxies in your eyes
make me dizzy
and the way you glance at me
makes me hope you'd miss me.

and your voice
spurs life in me
and your touch
makes me melt.

I wonder if you see
the way you mean to me.

and if you understand
the guilt I feel
for the damage done to me
and how easily you undo me
and my facades.

so this is the starting line
where our lives begin
from here on out.
this is where two become one
and one becomes two
in all the best ways.

My new years resolution
is to make you the happiest man
I can.

and this new year
was challenging
and hellish
and chaotic
and ultimately beautiful,
I can only hope this coming year
is even more breathtaking.

and if
I could paint the sky
a thousand ways
I could not capture
the amazement
that are your colors
or the galaxies within your eyes.

I hope they last
at least fifty years to come.

I was told
in May
that I am Rogue
from X-men,
and I'm desperately searching
for my Gambit.
for the hug
that Wolverine gives Rogue
without hurting.

because I hurt people
without meaning to.
it's never my intention
but people leave me
for one reason or another.

but you are Captain America,
all boy scout and morally correct
until you need to put the fear of God (or you)
in someone
or unless you need to protect someone
or only until you need to do what's right,
and then the boy scout front dissipates.

but if you're Beast Boy, I wanna be Raven.

but you're Red Robin, and I'm still Raven.

Warmth
and fire
and burning desire
to be held and loved
by you and only you.

bright eyes and loving touches
and whispered sweet nothings
and support and care and understanding.

wishful thinking
pulls me closer
and your arms keep me there.

Some women
want the shining rings
and the elegant proposals
and the over the top
displays of affection.

and while I honestly wouldn't mind
the displays of affection,
I want you to know
that all I want is you
and
you
and
you
and then
you again and again.

I will only ever want you,
nothing more
nothing less.

And it all began
with a childish glance
a type of mattering
a sense of silly faces
and caring
and playing
and able to find a balance
between the properness of age
and the fun of not acting like it.

and then it begins again
with wide open conversations
and sorting out feelings
and nervous but giddy meetings
and realizations upon handshakes and hugs,
and falling into you
the way I fell for you,
consciously, consensually, and close to immediately.

to begin the beginning
happens slowly,
and then all at once.

like the process of becoming real,
or falling in love.

and maybe that's because that's exactly what it is.

to begin again
is to become real
and to fall in love
all together.

I am trying to inch my way
inside your head.

I will crawl and trudge through the muck
and grime

I have seen
terrible things
but even still
I cannot fathom
what would possess you
to do what you have done.

Your skin
touching mine
your flesh
pressed against me
the rush of your blood
and the curve of your
spine
and arch of your back
and the motion of your hips
and the crook of your neck
is where my lips connect
to your skin
and your flesh

and your heart is b-b-beating against
my ch-ch-chest
and your hands wander
and my mind wonders.

and I can feel you growing ever the warmer,
almost achingly feverish
where my thighs connect to my loving and lustful hunger.

and the world crashes and rebuild and crashes and rebuilds and crashes and falls and rebuilds and then we reach a type of beautiful and extravagant crescendo and the world slowly rebuilds piece by piece
as I collapse and crash with your lips on my skin

and I've never felt more at peace.

Your eyes gazing into mine
leaves me breathless,
I can't look you in the eye,
the pooling of tension and fluttering butterflies in my stomach
leaves me speechless

and if I want to hold a conversation
that's no good.

and sometimes I wonder what it's like to be sane,
but then I remember
that's a life without living, a life without pain.

I'd be stupid,
but not my brand of stupid--
I'd be exponentially stupid,
stupid to the power of stupid
if I pretended to be someone I'm not.

and that's what you'd be--
stupid to the power of stupid,
if you wished I pretended to be
anything less than I am

because I've always been too much,
that's my problem.

I'm too emotional,
too needy
too affectionate
too damaged
too this
too that
too smart for my own good.

but I'm sick and tired
of wanting to be someone else
I like who I am
I won't be anybody else.

I could be better
but a better me
not a new person all together.

your eyes leave me speechless,
your words leave me breathless
and without you my heart means less
than it did before.

I wonder what you see
when you look at me
if your heart slams into your ribcage
the way mine does sometimes when I stare at you for too long
or when you touch me unexpectedly

I wonder if when you hear my voice
your stomach bursts into small fluttering sensations
or when I hold your hand
if it feels like home.

with or without my sanity
you leave me speechless
and I'm disjointed,
just like always.

If you have wings
why bother with walking?

whether they be ivory and scaled
or black and feathered,
spread your wings and fly--

for those who know flight,
a life on the ground is meaningless.

I trust,
deeply and sincerely,
that you're not meant for the red clay-mud
and ever sharpening blades of grass,
and dew drops and ladybugs,
but rather the burning hydrogen lights
and the shimmering moons
of the starscape.

Sometimes i just want
to disappear
and sometimes I just want
to be seen.

and sometimes
I'm too caught up
in the in between.

Will you ever know that smile
that I try to hide
when I think of something funny
In a moment that doesn't call for it?

will you ever know the sound of my laugh
when my stomach hurts from being hysterical?

will you ever know the difference between my laughs or my smiles?

like when I smile because I have to
or when I laugh because I'd otherwise be crying?

will you ever see the parts of me that aren't broken or damaged
will you ever see me as strong or brave
will you ever see me
as anything more
than something that needs rescuing?

will you ever know the different ways I fall apart
some so much more subtle than others

like when I bake for days on end
or can't keep my focus on anything
like when I talk too fast and too quiet
and can't pinpoint exactly what went wrong and where?

will you ever know the sound of raw truth in my voice
like when I tell you I love you
after telling you the more grisly and from details
about my past?

will you ever know how badly it hurts
to know that you've hurt?

will you ever be able to see past my facade of jaded apathy when the weight of my vast empathy is just too much to show at all times?

will you ever see me for the blinking spot of hope dancing on the dismal and dark horizon, like at one point I once was for someone.

will I ever be a strength
or forever a weakness?

see me, ******!*
I shout into the void.

know me, ******!
I scream into nothingness.

please!
I beg
acknowledge me!
I whisper into the vast blankness
of existence.

I just want to be somebody
I whimper
*just somebody to someone.

To spread reptilian wings
and fly with fire in their wake.
to blink amber eyes
and to hoard
things of knowledge and things of care.

to burst into flame
and be reborn
to be free of bonds
that destroyed them.

I find
That your
Eyes
Leave me breathless
And I have become
Especially skilled
At gaining my composure
Without you noticing
I have lost it.

I find
That your
Smile
And hands
On my skin
Make my heart
Flutter
And my body
Shudder
With bliss.

I find
That you are
The only one
That I am okay
With slowly becoming
Myself
Around.

I find
That you are
The best thing
I can call mine.

You keep me awake at night,
Your chirping siren song.

You keep me awake at night,
With lore of fae and goddesses.

You keep me awake at night,
All the memories of the things you did
That I never asked you to.

You keep me awake at night,
You and your hypocrisy.
You and your lies,
You and your foul mouthed fallacies.

You keep me awake at night,
With the guilt that isn't mine
That you gave me.

You keep me awake at night,
You and your use of my misfortune as ammo.

You keep me awake at night,
Your beady eyes and chirping voice.

You keep me awake at night,
So I guess it's time to get out of bed,
And squash some crickets.

I want to rip your heart out
I want to drop a match at your gasoline soaked feet.
I want to drink a glass of water while you burn.
I want to tie your hands to an angry bull,
And your feet to a red post.

I want to give you a metal pipe
And lock you outside during a lightning storm,
After dumping a bucket of water on your head.
And maybe leaving the bucket on your head.

I want to send your mother
A list of all the awful things you ever did
With signatures of mine and all your ex's swearing that it's honest.

I want to ignore the nightmares and
I want to douse myself in ignorance
And finally be blissfully unaware of your existence.

But I can't.

You always said I was too smart for my own good.

Sometimes it's hard for me to understand
How someone like you
Could love someone like me.

I don't handle my bruises very well,
And I always question truths and facts,
Before I accept them.

I have great distaste
For people who would rather we all be the same
Than venture towards variety.

My heart bleeds much too often
For too many different things and people,
Leaving me without the room
To bleed for myself.

While you are strong,
And stoic,
And capable.

While I am floundering
For my own footing,
Trying to stand for myself
Rather than others.

And I wonder if you see
Me as a golden heart
With a rebel fist,
Like I know I used to be,
Or if I'm soft tones
And gentle hands.

Maybe I'm too skittish
To be comforting most times,
Unless it's an emergency
Of some sort.

Maybe I'm too soft spoken
To be anything like the pistol I once was.

But at the very least,
You see some good in me,
And maybe that's enough.

As though you know
I am somehow whole
and as though you know
I can stand on my own.

but my stance is shakier
and my voice is not quite steady.

both a weakness
and a strength,
my love for you is.

with you I am stronger than before,
and much more myself.

without you,
I am much more gone.

And my existence
is gunmetal grey
coasting between
raven black
and ghost white.

I am the taste of the oncoming storm on your lips
I am the feeling of icy wind on your fingertips

I am the smell of fire,
I am the sound of lightning breaking the wires.

and your existence is snow white,
calm and cool and completely planned for.

fate took you into account
when things were set in motion

you're the twinkling stars,
you're that knowing exactly where you are
feeling.

you're the steady ferocity of the lynx,
you're the cold, dangerous whisper of "don't move, don't breathe, don't even blink."

I am gunmetal grey,
and you are the endless color,
the spiraling reds and oranges,
and the bottomless blues and greens.

I was unseen by fate,
yet I am intertwined within yours.

There's only so much pressure
things can take
before they break
or change.

maybe I am broken
or just a diamond
in the rough.

it's hard to tell
some days

but hopefully
one day
it won't be so hard
to tell.

Some girls are made of empathy and smudged, dried ink.

some girls are stitched from red yarn and thick black thread.

some girls are filled with the taste of blood in your mouth and slick, jagged, icy walls.

some girls are built from the emptiness of heartache and longing.

some girls are made of foreign colors, scotch, and the clacking of a typewriter.

those are the girls that look into the fire and show no fear.

those are the girls that try to save the monsters instead of running from them in terror.

those are the girls who are not used to their hair being brushed gently from their ears, or being told by anyone but themselves that they're worthwhile.

those are the girls who believe they're only worth being loved as long as they earn their keep. They're only "permanent" for as long as they are useful.

those are the girls who flinch when you move too swiftly, too close to them. Those are the girls who shudder and shake when you get too loud and too personal.

remind them they are worthwhile. Remind them they are permanent. Remind them it's okay.

with some girls, you won't regret it.

I wonder
if you can see me
the way I see you.

I wonder if you see
all the shaking in my features
when I feign confidence
when speaking about myself.

I wonder if you hear
the honesty in my voice
when I  feel raw
and unlovable.

I wonder if you can feel
the joy and adamant passion
on my skin
when you touch me.

I wonder if you can smell
the fear in my breathing,
when I try so hard to fake being strong,
and all I do is hesitate.

I wonder if you can taste
the satisfaction and pride on my lips
when I make you smile.

I wonder if you see me
the way I see you.

i see colors and i see
all of your heart
and none of it
all at once.

i see within your eyes,
and i feel fire
but smell snow.

i wonder if,
if you were to look with your heart,
if maybe you could see me rightly.

You disappear
into a different room.

I disappear
into myself.

you disappear
and I can't reach for you.

I disappear
and you don't reach for me.

and I can hear
hushed tones.

and I can hear
the slight edge.

and you can hear
soft whimpers.

and you can hear
broken sobs.

I worry
for you

you worry
for me

this whole thing
makes me nervous.

Sometimes i feel like you can't see me
like I'm only visible when I'm useful
or when you want me to be.

and sometimes I can't tell if that's my past talking
or my insecurities.

and I know I'm not smart or funny
or interesting or fun
or--
(feel free to disagree with me anytime now)
--anything more than broken.

sometimes I can't remember if I used that
word to describe me first
or if you did.

and I guess I'm just tired
of being so not-good.

and you told me that you somehow
still want any part of me
because aside from my brokeness
I'm still good.

sometimes I wonder how that works

sometimes I'm just too tired.

I'm trying so hard
to be the best I can be
but some days
the parts of me
I haven't learned to like
get the best of me
and I don't know how
to piece myself back together
with all my pieces still intact.

I try so hard
to be the best I can be.
just trust that even days like today
still keep me on the path steady
to being the best me
I can be.

Life is all about the endeavor
To say it now or never,
In order to find your forever--
Even still, however,
You won't find it here or there or whichever,
But if you don't look, your heart will dissever,
Upon anxious and angry "It's whatever."'s.
But you won't find them whatsoever
If you open your heart to just whoever,
But trust yourself, and you can find them wherever.

I wonder if you know
That you make my heart flutter white,
My face flush red,
And my mouth pull into a pink grin.

I wonder if you know,
I could be yours
For eternity
And it would still not be
Enough.

I wonder if you know,
That you're the first
And the last
To make me feel
Genuinely worth it.

I hope you don't mind
My confusion at your
Kindness towards me.

I hope you don't mind
My instinctual suspicion
Of your acts of service and love.

It isn't because of you.

I wonder if you know
How much work it will take
To get me to accept
That I am worthy of your kindness
Or to get me to understand
That this isn't temporary.

I wonder if you know
That I will always try my hardest
To understand why you think
I'm worth it.

I wonder if you know,
I think all of this within a glance at you.

I only knew rain,
before I met you.

and when we were gone,
rain was all I knew

and I softened
at your smile.

my heart began to really beat
for the first time in awhile.

and while nothing held up for long,
no umbrella or teru teru bozu,

all I seemed to have needed
was to somehow be part of you.

and though the rain
seemed relentless,

you came along
and made the sunshine endless.

I used to wonder why my stomach churns when I hear a child cry.

I used to wonder why the videos of the children in the hospital in Aleppo make me want to curl into a ball and disappear.

I used to wonder why the sound of flesh impacting flesh makes me flinch.

I used to wonder why I can't watch or listen to horror movies that use gore for the shock-value.

why I can't watch anything gory at all.

I'd like to think it's because I'm much too compassionate.

but we all know it's because I've seen too much. Felt too much.

I call the raccoon
"Theo" for short.

he has a twin brother
named Franklin.

Franklin likes to fly about at night,
while Theo likes to snack on stonefruit and
cold pizza.

they might look
drastically different.

they might be
drastically different

but they're still twins.

whether Theo speaks too softly
or Franklin plays music too loudly,
they're still Theo and Franklin.

it's a funny thing about being attached to someone like that, by namesake.

no matter how different you are from each other,
your names will still roll off people's tongues
together.

and while you think no one sees you as an individual,
know that your counterpart does.

so while he flies around and peers at you from the windowsill,
and you nibble on a plum and watch Netflix too late at night,
know that you know
you're different.

Sometimes I forget to feel.
or, I should say,
I forget to feel anything about things
I'm supposedly required to emote towards.

maybe it's because I'm too busy
feelings things about everything else.

so I can't feel bad that I didn't chase her or him,
that I didn't break myself all over again
to keep this and that person in my life.

I'm too busy feeling
happy
and free
and guilty for mistakes
I have yet to repent for.

I don't have time,
I guess,
to care whether or not
I'm feeling bad about whatever you want me
to feel bad about today.

sorry.

guess i'm
unfeeling.

The rabbit hops through the snow,
Almost disappearing
As his fur is bright and white as the fog behind him.

He halts when he sees the large black bear.

The bear spots him immediately.

The bear bounds over to the rabbit,
And stands on his hind legs after they touch noses.

The rabbit ***** his head to the side,
And the bear paws at the note tied to his neck.

A man clears his throat.

The bear jumps, obviously shaken by the noise,
While the rabbit edges closer, chest puffed out and head held high.

The man laughs.

"I won't hurt you." The man says softly.
"That note, I believe it's for me."

The bear is crouched,
Seemingly trying to hide behind the rabbit.

The rabbit sticks his little arms out to his sides,
And shakes his head.

The man frowns.

A lion appears behind him.
And then a tiger.
And then cats and dogs and birds and snakes.

"There haven't been animals in this wood in decades." Explains the man. "All these animals are just like you."

The bears slowly looks up and blinks at the other animals.

The rabbit puts down his arms.
He suddenly bounces towards the man, sniffs him furiously,
And then grabs the note off the bear's neck.
The bear lets out a halfhearted roar,
And sits down.

The man reads the note.
He crushes it in his hands, and calls to the various, now having become animals.
He stands, back turned to the bear.

The bear's eyes go wide.

"All of your people did what they could to protect you. It is now that we seek vengeance for them. It is now that we take back these woods, our land. It is now that we save the remainders of our people. We have become, because of them. It's time we pay our debt!"

The rabbit stands at the man's feet. He looks awe-struck, and he squeaks in agreement while the other animals grown and yowl their responses.

The bear does nothing, but stare at the man's back.

Because out of the man's back
Sticks a wind-up key.
That just keeps on spinning,
With no end in sight.

The boy looks at the fire.
It only grows larger, it seems, in the dead of night.
There's snow on the ground, but with the fire,
It won't last long.

He runs into the forest behind his house.
Places his black teddy bear in the tree house
They used to spend all summer in.

He ties a note around the teddy bear's neck
With a shoelace.

"I know it's scary, but you have to become, okay?"

A high pitched shriek is heard from below.

He shivers.

"Don't worry. I promise I'll be okay." He crosses his fingers behind his back.
Papa said lying is never good, even if it's for a good reason.
He has to hope Papa is wrong.

He takes in a deep breath,
And climbs down the ladder of the tree house.

There's all kinds of growling and screaming from below.

Later on, near day break,
A large black bear tumbles out of the woods.
He whines and groans
And paws at the ash.

A note is tied around his neck
By an over stretched shoelace.

She clutches a stuffed rabbit
Close to her body.
His ears are threadbare,
All the fur has been loved off.

The lights overhead
Can mean life or death,
So she looks into the glassy eyes of her rabbit,
Her eyes imitating his,
What her mother would call "misty eyed".

She stares at the lights,
As they become more and more, ever the closer.
Ever the brighter.

She drops her rabbit into a bush, whispering,
"This is your chance. Go on, become."
The lights get brighter.
The bush does nothing but rustle.
"Please." She whispers.

The lights are too bright.
There's a hissing noise,
And in the shadow of the lights,
Much too bright too see her,
A rabbit with a fluffy white tail,
And very real paws,
Nervously bounds out of the bushes.

The rabbit hesitates,
Almost looks back.

And then he's gone.

You all claim to be
Pro-life,
But where are the people
Who are pro-living?

And your
Lack of a cause
Has done what, exactly, to change
This world for the better?

Throw words around
Like they're *****.
But I'll brush them off
And wear them as a badge of honor.

Your feigned apathy
Towards fixing the problem
Is hindering the solution.

Just because you have no personal responsibility
Doesn't mean you have no responsibility at all.

You're scared of real feminism,
Because you think it will operate how
Your patriarchy does:
Violently and without remorse
Or consequence.

You fear equality for races
Because you believe
It will work the same way
Your oppression does:
Mercilessly and lacking real punishment.

You refuse to lend a hand to others,
To those dying in the streets,
Whether it be this nation or another,
Because you believe you won't get anything back.

And you claim to be pro-life,
Because someone yet to be born
Has no sin,
Is an innocent life.
But the moment they breathe in
All this air,
They are cast with original sin,
And you get to decide their fate.

And you claim to be pro-life,
But you're the one who makes the judgment,
You're the one who decides whether they live a life worth living
Or die a death unfitting.

And you claim you're pro-life,
But when there are
Children going hungry,
And parents getting sick,
And riots or bombs in the streets,
And hate crimes becoming
More and more and more
Can you tell me that you care?
That you'll do more than stop and stare?

You all claim to be
Pro-life,
But where are the people
Who are pro-living?

Isn't it curious
That coincidences don't
Seem so much like coincidences
Anymore?

Sure,
Maybe it was some kind of
Coincidence
That I've loved you all this time,
And that now you're mine to love and to hold,
But I'd like to think
That fate has a funny way
Of bringing people together.

I wanted to be yours,
Yes,
Each and every day before
I finally was.
But was I fit to be yours?
No.
I wasn't quite whole,
I wasn't quite steady.
I didn't quite know
Who I was.

But I am yours,
Through and through.
My heart will always
Belong to you.

But isn't it curious
How life has such a funny way
Of playing out?

The first time I was told I had doe eyes
Was by the mother (who hated me) of a boy I very much did not love.
That was three days after she asked me
"So what are you, exactly?"

In reference to my nationality.

The first time I was told I had bedroom eyes
Was when I was living in a hotel
With my parents.
And I was cornered in the laundry room
By one of the other, much older, patrons.
He didn't leave
Until my older brother ran in and stared him down.
We didn't talk about it.

The very next day,
A girl in my class was talking to a boy she liked.
I didn't quite understand the interaction until a no-longer-friend of mine
Pointed it out to me.
He rolled his eyes away from her,
And she sulked off.
He turned towards me and said,
"I wish she was more like you. You have bedroom eyes."

I didn't understand this term until a year later,
When I was sitting in a biology class in Georgia,
And the school's premier "stud" (and ****)
Thought he would get something out of sitting next to me.
He went on to explain what bedroom eyes meant,
In vivid detail as to why I had them.
Before I could react,
One of his friends grabbed my shoulder.

I wish I could say I reached around and punched him in the stomach.

But that isn't until later.

No, I stood there, frozen, and hurriedly got up when the bell rang.

One of my only friends from that school walked me to my classes for the remainder of time that I lived there.

I move back home,
And a friend of mine likes to take pictures of me.
My favorite of them is one where I'm not making eye contact.

That friend who walked me to class
Sent me a message.
"Your new picture looks so hot."
I respond
"Thanks, I guess?"
He types back,
"Would be better if I could see those doe eyes though."
I shudder and don't respond.
He types again.
"Nudes?"
I tell him to *******,
Except in more, much more graphic and violent words,
Before blocking him.

Two years pass,
And I'm out of the relationship with the boy
Whose mother hated me
(And I hated him, and I'm pretty sure he hated me
From scars on my knuckles and bruises all over me)
A friend of mine says he wants to go out with me,
I shrug, why not?
He calls me a babe.
Tells me I have bedroom eyes.
I tell him I can't do this.
We don't talk again.

Why is it that my eyes alone
Define me as a ****** being?
I don't have to do anything,
Say anything.
Is it how I try not to make eye contact,
How I keep my eyes on the ground,
Because eye contact, I've learned
Is an invitation to some.
It means "I want to talk to you."
It means "Tell me how I look."
It means "Tell me about my bedroom eyes."
When I blink up at you with long black eyelashes,
And pouting pink lips.

Is that what they see,
When I look up?

Because that is not what I am saying.

I don't know what your doe eyes are saying but
My doe eyes are not saying that.

My doe eyes are saying
That I am fueled by a determination to live
Despite everything else.

My doe eyes are saying
That you can ******* if you don't like that,
If you don't like me.

My doe eyes are saying
No, I won't send you "pics" and I won't be seen as an object.

Because my doe eyes
Are more than just doe eyes.
They're my eyes.
And that's got to be worth something more
Than bedroom eyes.

I can feel the rain coming in,
But it's always been that way.
I've always been that way.
Like how a cat can feel storms approaching,
Due to the static electricity increasing beneath their fur,
I've always been able to tell when
The rain is about to come down.

Maybe it's the way my head feels heavier than usual,
Or that no sunlight comes through the blinds.
Or maybe it's that my ears ache for the thunder,
And when it does, it sends a shiver down my spine.

I hate the rain.
The way it leaves you cold
And shaking like a leaf.
I hate the thunder.
The way it drowns out all other noise.
I hate the lightning,
The way it paints everything black and white,
And strips the world of relief in its silence.

I hate the rain,
But it is a part of me.

The First person I loved, well, really, it was a childhood crush. It shouldn't have meant anything, it shouldn't have mattered. At least that's what I told myself over and over (and over and over and over and over). But at that  time, my life was the brewing, churning clouds before the storm settles in and stays for awhile, painting the sky a putrid yellow-gray, filled with all sorts of worry and dismay. But he  cared, and he was my friend, and I actually mattered to someone. That's what draws you in, isn't it? Mattering? And then you fall for the way they laugh and hold themselves, and the way they interact with others and how they hold their head up and the fire that burns in their eyes. That fire that keeps burning, even when it's raining. Even when you know something is off, something is terrible, but even if you asked, they wouldn't tell.

The Second person I loved, well, I never really loved him at all. Call it a type of Stockholm syndrome. You get ****** into friendship and obsessed with the idea of being normal, so you try it out. And then you don't act right, you don't behave how they want, you don't do what they want you to do, or you just look at them the wrong way or talk to the wrong person. And then it hurts and you try to escape, for two and a half years out of four and half. And it leaves you broken. You're not able to love the same way you thought you were supposed to, you're more guarded. You break down when people touch you, hug you. Another boy tries to kiss you and you immediately burn the bridge. It takes you a year and a half to recover enough to go out with anyone.

The Third person I loved was different. She was different entirely. After being in the midst of a quickly deteriorating abusive relationship, it's easy to cling onto anything that looks like a lifeline. And that's unhealthy. But I loved her nonetheless. And she hurt me, and I hurt her. I will always regret it, and I will always be sorry. I hold no anger towards her, and when I think of her, it's like a phantom-pain. There's nothing there to hurt, but I know it should. And why shouldn't it? She was the type of girl that would leave any man breathless and dying. Everything I wanted to be. She was beautiful and confident and bold. She was smart and interesting and fun. But she was selfish, and she was a liar. And in the end, it was her beauty that destroyed her, and us, whatever type of friends we were. That ended before the Second.

The Fourth person I loved was a foolish decision. A mistake that I made, but I made it, and it's mine to own up to. I was vulnerable and my mind was fragile, but I fell anyway. I needed an escape, so I used love as an excuse. And he broke me. I honestly believe he took pleasure in that. In breaking me in so many ways. He knew about all the different ways I had been hurt and used, and he hurt and used me anyway, in new and "improved" ways. I fell, and he let me fall, trying to "cushion" the blow of my harsh landing back into reality with syrupy sweet lies and rocks with sharpened edges like "You're the only person I want to be about forever," and "You're more beautiful than the sunrise." while simultaneously reminding me constantly how damaged I am and how he doesn't care to help with it. What he didn't know is that the sun always sets. And I'm glad it did.

And Again, the last person I'll ever love like this, is the First. I fell in love with the way he smiled and the way he interacts. I took flight and dove headfirst into this love instead of falling when I saw the fire in his eyes. And it was no longer that I mattered to him, to tell you the truth, I still have trouble telling if I matter to him now. As I've said, I just don't love the same way anymore. No, I love the way he is gentle when it's difficult to be, or the way he laughs, or reacts. The way he's not afraid to apologize, but is always honest. I will always love the fire in his eyes, and the way it never goes out.

Do you ever think the things that happen
to you in your life
aren't necessarily meant for you?

this is if you're of the persuasion that all things have purpose.

what if some of the things
that happened to you
were someone else's lesson
to learn?

and you just got caught
in the cross hairs?

and you're just,
oh, what do they call it?

Collateral Damage.

because that's the thing about fate and purpose.

it's not always flowers and friendship and heartfelt meant-to-be.

sometimes it's messy.

but so is life.

Take the knife
That they dug into my spine,
And pull it out.

Pull it out.

And take the knife
That they dug into my spine,
And plunge that knife
Into my stomach.

That's what love feels like.

It feels like asking someone
To plunge a knife into your stomach,
Only the knife isn't for stabbing,
It's for cutting out the infection
That everyone else left inside you.

So take the knife out of my stomach,
And stitch me back up
With thread and glue,
Dab at the wound with alcohol and hydrogen peroxide,
And I'll writhe in pain,
Until the aching and the itching subsides.

Didn't you know?
Didn't you hear?

Love is a risk for anybody.

It's all about who you're willing
To jump that cliff for.

And whether or not
You fall
Or you fly.

Break my bones,
Just not my heart!

If I could force myself awake I would,
If I could push away all the nightmares, I would.

But I can't.

And within my sleep
I find no peace
From what was done,
Or who I was.

And I can feel cool, dry air
Rushing through my pores,
And through my nerves into my bones.
As my teeth clatter and my limbs shake
I am become vividly aware
Of the smell and taste of blood
That I can't quite get rid of.

No matter how many times I brush my teeth,
Or how often I prepare baked goods,
It lingers in the back of my head,
A memory that is much too real,
Much too there.

But each time I close my eyes,
I find myself drifting in the ****** ashes
Of bridges I had to burn
To preserve whatever sanity I had left.

And the fear that our bridge may be one
That will be burned in some way, shape, or form
Brings the flashbacks to a halt,
And I wish I could say, within the dream,
That I was demanding and loud
And told you not to.

That I fought tooth and nail
For you to stay.

That I chased you down.

That I begged you not to disappear like everyone else.

I wish I could say that.

But I didn't.

No. Instead I only said,

"Break my bones, just not my heart."*

And into the darkness you receded,
Ignoring my wish,
Just like everybody else.

Victor Hugo once said
To love someone is to see the face of God.

And that quote has really stuck with me.
I'm not really a religious person,
But I am a hopeless romantic.

So I'd like to believe
That even if there is no conscious higher power,
Like I'd like to think there is,
That there is at least fate,
Binding us to something,
Somewhere.

I guess I find comfort
In belonging to something,
Especially if that something
Is a someone
And that someone
Is you.

I try pretty hard
To keep it together
Because of chemical imbalances
And imbalances in life.

And try as I might,
I falter a lot.

And it's easy to get sick of
My tears and flinching form.

And I can feel myself
Pulling away,
It's safer
this way,

The darkness whispers to me,
And though I pull and tear and scratch
At it's hold,
I feel it encroaching ever closer.

And this is why I am so needy as of late,
So pushy about attention and being near you.

You are a light
That keeps the desire
To flee and all the darkness
It brings with it
At bay.

Try as I might,
I can't do this on my own.