I have eleven years in my possession,
All of which I spent loving you,
And drowning in various fantastical obsessions.

I have eleven whispers of regret,
Eleven whispers of doubt,
Eleven whispers of "turn around."

I have eleven months in my possession,
Eleven months of good intentions.

I have eleven screaming words
Piercing my ear drums.
Tell me that you don't care,
You won't care.

I have eleven days in my possession,
Eleven days this will go without mention.

I have eleven needless thoughts,
Pushing and pushing until my eyes flood with tears.
You won't notice.

I have eleven itching scars on just my hands and arms in my possession,
Of all the times I needed someone,
But there was no one to hear my amnesia-esque confessions.

Go ahead and ignore me
Go ahead and see through me,
Walk through me,
Whatever,
Who cares?

I can do whatever,
Whenever,
You won't see me,
You won't appreciate me.

Why even bother
Trying?

Only so much
For so long.
You can only last for so long
Before it all bleeds together.

I've never been fond of
Love triangles in literature,
To me love is more of a tangled thread.
There's not much choice to it, really.

You cannot fight your heart on who you love,
You can only choose whether or not to act on it.

And sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night,
And you, laying there, resting peacefully comes into my vision.
And even when I can't feel my lungs
Because I'm breathing too quickly from the nightmares,
You being beside me is like a wave of calm
Washing over me.

And I know none of this makes sense,
I don't have enough coherent thoughts
To really write today.

Ah, the result of trying my hand
At a novel.

You took my heart right out of my chest
Like a knee to the stomach I often received
But will never forget.

You stomped on it and crushed it
Until all that was left was blood and shrapnel,
All because you lied and couldn't commit.

And then you came along and forced your way in,
It was easy and thoughtless and ******,
And according to all your friends, I had it coming.

Gas lighting and manipulating
Pushing me over the edge over and over and over
Throwing hissy fits when you left me and I started dating.

You use people like they're toys
And treat them like they're trash.
All I can remember is the low of your voice,
It's my most disdained noise.

It's hard to bring myself out of it,
Out of the screaming matches
And the cruelty and my lips being split.

But I know he'll never hurt me
Like either of you did.
Because he's not so beastly,
And I'm, for some reason, worthy
Of kindness and being treated gently.
And his love is setting me free
Of the shackles you both have placed on me.

I play with your hair,
And then feel the desire to laugh
At the mess I made of it.

Your voice fills my ears
And light fills my heart
And love fills me up
Entirely.

I love the way you think,
And the way you speak,
And the way your thoughts bounce from one end
Of your train of thought
To the other.

I love the way your eyebrows pull together
When you're focusing,
And the way your eyes flicker
When you shift focus.

I love the way you reach over to kiss me,
When you're playing video games
And I'm typing another poem.

And I love the way your voice sounds,
Usually matter-of-fact,
Often times, around your friends,
Full and orotund.

I guess,
I just love all of you.
And I can't stand it,
So I guess I'll sit down.

He was smiling,
But I know that smile.
That's the
"Thinking about something else, someone else. Are we done yet?"
Smile.

He made a silly face,
But I know that face.
That's the
"How many likes can this get, how much immediate gratification can I get?"
Face.

He held her close,
And I cringe.
Not because it hurts,
No.
I cringe because I feel pity for the poor girl.
I know that body language.
That's the
"You are a possession,  you are an item."
Way he holds his arms.
That's the
"You're a trophy, you're my possession."
Way he props his shoulders.

I don't appreciate her friends
Sending me pictures of them together,
But after blocking them,
I push down the urge to save her.
It's not my business, it's not my place.
Hopefully he changed for her.

But I know that the self-serving monster
That he is
Will always somehow survive.

Of course, what do I know?
He was a blip on my radar of life.
A single year gone to waste.

His wounds won't last
So deep.

So I know
You know
That I believe in fate.

But please understand,
When I say I believe in fate,
I only believe that we are fated to do
The things we would just end up doing anyway.

So I want you to know
I would love you
In this world
Or that world
Or the one before
Or the one after.

In this universe,
Or that multiverse.

No matter the time
Or the place
I would find you,
And I would love you
Just the same.

I made the decision
To face my fears
And love you.

But I know that
I would love you
Whether I decided to face those fears
Or not.

Sometimes there are things
That are meant to happen.
And even if they weren't,
We would make them happen anyway.

People like to blot
People like me out
With heavy clots of
Black ink
Or white out
Depending on how much damage
They want to pretend I did,
And how often they like to
Throw pity parties
And how much proof
They want to have.

I take ownership
Of my sins
But don't try to make them
More than they were.

But with how often
I've been
Blotted out

It's easy to understand
Why I want you to
Remember my name.

It's easy to erase someone
From your memory
From existence
And pretend they were never
A part of you
Or you never a part of them

It takes great bravery
To look at the mistakes you made
And admit they were yours.

And every time I blink
My right eye aches a little.

I think it's because it doesn't want to shut,
As it,
Just like I,
Can't get enough of you.

Sometimes I look at you,
And I can feel either end of my mouth
Pulling up
And laughter erupting
From the pit of my stomach
And through my chest
And strumming my vocal chords.

And sometimes I look at you
And I recognize that this must be
What sunshine in the dead of winter
Looks like
Embodied in a human being.

And I use that metaphor
(Sunshine, because you make me happy,)
For good reason
(Winter, because you put up barriers and sometimes you're hard to read).

And I could memorize
Your silhouette
And hold onto that memory
For months
But as much as that beautiful imagery
Would hold me over,
It wouldn't ever compare
To being within your arms,
And watching the fire burn
Within your eyes.

Your eyes are filled with fire and galaxies
And your heartbeat thrumming against your chest
And into my eardrums
Pierces me with some type of calm
I'm not used to feeling.

And your presence
Is presently
The only thing I crave.

I hope for my heart and soul
To collide with yours,
In some type of sunset-colored supernova.

And your voice plays along inside my head,
Building up waves of robin's egg blue
And rushing white and royal, shimmering navy.

You are mine
As I am yours
And despite all my fears
Nothing will change that
Not truths to falsehoods
Or falsehoods to truths.
Not visions of the past
Or past visions.

And I could count every star
Visible to me
And still the number would not compare
To the great sum
That is my love for you.

But every star in the sky's
Brilliance does not compare to you.

And it *****,
Because your grin pulled a trigger,
Sending an explosive array of metaphysical
Bullets of "This is all I need,"
Right through my chest.

And as I lay in the grass,
Sadness and confusion bleeding out from my wound,
And an infection of optimism
And gleeful epiphanies
And feelings of finally being home,
Developing in the torn up skin and broken bones,
And shredded muscle tissue,
I look up at the stars overhead.

And finally I understand,

Because you are not one single star to me,
You're the whole **** sky.

I can't do anything.
I can't help.
I can't fix it.
I can't even be a decent friend.

We haven't spoken in months,
Seen each other in even more,
But I still care so much
I want to help so bad.

But as always,
I'm too far away
And I don't even have the right words
To fix it
Or soothe your anxious brain.

I don't have any solutions
No matter how hard
I try to pull my hair out
I cannot solve this problem
And I can't even be there
To comfort you.

I am a terrible friend.

"I was kinda hoping you'd"
Swallow down the fear,
Keep your head up,
"stay?"

Sheepish grins
And awkward shuffling of feet.

Body language,
And touching of shoulders
Arms
Wrists
Hands.

I spent my summer
Trying to get better,
And I've got to be honest,
I think I'm really getting there.

So when you ask me what I want,
What's going on,
It's stupid
But
All I wanna say is
"I was kinda hoping you'd stay?"

You're just the air I breathe,
No big deal.
Doesn't make a difference
To me.

I'm just a nobody,
Silent as I wander the halls
Of misfortune and misery,
But every nobody needs somebody.

You're just the foundation
For everything I attached my hopes onto.
And I know it sounds insane,

But there are crows lining up
On telephone wires.
And ravens picking at the grass--
Or it would be grass,
Save for the fire.

And I can hear the beat of war drums
Beating along with the calm surrender of your heart.
And little things like to eat away
At me and my heart,
Like the fact that I'm not good enough,
Or for a little while, you'll go away.

And I know I'm still a work in progress,
I'm just incomplete
I'm just unfinished
I'm just still working on it
And you're just there,
You just know
You just understand.

And my head aches
And the rooms spins
And you're just the air I need to breathe
I'm just a nobody
But I'm gonna be somebody
To someone
Someday.

****,
I just hope it's you.

I write word after word after word
Backspace backspace backspace

Not good enough.

Needs to be

Better.

Isn't that how it always is,
Though?

Wanting to be better
And better
And better than that.

Nothing is good enough,
Right?

You rewrite and rewrite
And change your clothes
And change your clothes again.

You make a cup of tea,
But there's too much honey,
So you drink it and make it again,
This time there's not enough.
I swear the only reason I stay hydrated
Is because I keep remaking these cups of tea.

And I go and change my clothes,
And I rewrite and rephrase that sentence
And then that scene
And then this stanza,
And then I change my clothes again
All in hopes
To be better
Than before.

When will I be good enough
For myself?
Enough that I am even
Good enough for you?

Too casual, change into something cute.
Too cute, change into something ****.
Ugh, why bother?

The fear of never being good enough
Eating away at my brain,
And my brain screams and cries
Striving at perfection
That I'll never
Achieve.

Listen,
All I know is
I'm full of wounds
And scars
And broken
Parts

But I am still
Standing
On my feet.

So, let me tell you,
I don't know what this thing is--
Defeat,
Or whatever you call it.

I'm still going to be walking,
Moving forward.
No dream or memory,
Or flashback
Will keep me from moving onward.

I am full of wounds
And scars
And broken
Parts.

But I am still standing.

W
    H
       Y

Would we

B
   O
       T
          H
              E
                 R

With gentle touches,
And loving gestures
When I just flinch away
Or am too scared to ask for
Any help.

W
   H
      Y

Do you

B
   O
       T
          H
              E
                 R
                     ?

I guess it's because
You care.

Strange.

Still new to me.

I'll never understand what happened.

I'll never quite get it.

Things changed so rapidly,
And I'll never quite understand how or when,
Or if I was even there at all to stop it.

In some ways,
You'll always be my mother.
In other ways,
You'll never be.

And as much as parts of me
Whole anger and resentment,
There will always be a larger,
Much more forgiving
Part of me
That does not.

That holds only love
And appreciation
For everything you did.

So go ahead,
Paint me black.
I will love you through it,
Because, well,
We both know
I used to be golden.

The rain falls down
And I'm left
Feeling as though I might drown,
In pages unkept.

And I'm frozen,
Freezing cold.
The fear keeps it all in,
Keeps the words from being told.

And if I were to play out on
Violins and piano,
I'd call the clouds on,
And sing to you all that I know.

I'd wash away the ashes to ashes,
Dust to dust.
And as thunder crashes,
Desolated hearts are reborn as stardust.

In the way your eyes flicker towards mine
I have found that if I were made of rain and storms,
I would require you as my sunshine,
And even still, I would defy all norms.

If I were a rain-woman,
I would melt at your touch,
I know it isn't much,
But the sentiment, I hope, is enough.

And then there's us.

I am the burning smoke,
I am the flames.
You are the cold winds,
You are the rain.

We are an old castle built upon stable ground,
We are the spark of the storm,
We are the combustion of the oxygen,
We are the scars that trail up my arms
Like footprints,
We are the footprints that trail through your mind
Like scars.

We are built from lessons
Upon lessons
Of fleeting people
And fleeting reminders.

We are learning from mistakes
And bettering each other.

We are learning to live,
Learning to breathe.

We are knowing what love is,
Upon single glances.

We are laughter
And love
And pain upon memories
And tears upon pain
And more laughter.

We are we are we are

And then there's you.

You are colors spiraling through the air,
Magnificent and awe-inspiring and warm.

You are notes and octaves spun together to make
Music so sweet that I even think to sing--
But I don't, no, I don't.

You are Times New Roman,
Not appreciated by those who know nothing of valid script,
And yet still just as good and fawned over
As always and ever.

You are relief,
You are un-scarred flesh.
You are healing, you are love.

You are words bundled lovingly
And words scattered wildly.

You are warmth that melts my bones,
You are the love that melts me.
You are you are you are

And then there's us.

I am pages
Marked with ink from a pen
And ink from a printer.
I am words formed
To make profound statements
And snarky comments.

I am scribbled chicken scratch,
Etched onto skin.
I am the google-font
"Rock Salt,"
That I use for all my male characters,
Though it more closely resembles
My own handwriting.

I am the itching of a wound
As it grows closed.
I am the burning of the skin around the cut flesh
The only reminder of things you don't remember.

I am scarred hands,
From painful overwhelming black outs,
And Underwhelming solutions.
I am itching chapped skin
From hot water and soap.

I am the phrases
"You're doing too much,"
And
"You're not doing enough."

I am the cold locking my hands into place,
I am anxiety locking my throat into place.
I am I am I am I am

And then there's you.

Sometimes I dream so much
That it feels like I didn't sleep at all.
And I wake up with dark circles
And bags under my eyes.

And these dreams
Rapidly develop into nightmares,
And the most recent
Was where I lost you.

It's true,
Most of my nightmares are
Flashbacks
Or about losing you.

And the weight of hatred
In your gaze
Crushed my rib cage,
And I've never felt
Anything so painful
As to the words
"I don't love you,"
No physical hurt
Could compare
To the crushing sentiment
Of being outdated.

And while I am aware
It was just a dream,
It's driving me mad,
It seems.

And he wanted me to break,
He wanted me to be broken down
And damaged.
That was the intent behind his destruction
Of me.

Here I am, then.
Broken down,
Just like he asked.

My hardest days,
Are when I back track like this.
I've come so far,
I'm so much better than I was.

But today, I'm still pretty fragile,
Because my mind has been tainted
And my heart
Is still in partial fragments.

How you love it,
I have no idea.

But I trust
That you must,
Since you've stayed,
No matter my hardest days.

That focused look in your eyes,
And the slight furrow of your brow
Sends a spiral of butterflies
Fluttering in my stomach.

And the warmth of your hands
On my skin,
And the comfort of your arms
Around me,
Reminds me
That I am just as human
As anyone else,
And I have needs and wants
As anyone else.

And hyperventilated
Breathing
From a nightmare
Where I was bound and trapped
All too real
Because at one point it was real,
And it saddens me
That sometimes you have to see me
With fear in my eyes.

But the comfort of your breath
On my neck
And your words
In my ears,
And your eyes
Locked on me,
With your hands
On my skin or
Fingers tangled in my hair
Regulates my breathing
So that I may fall back to sleep.

Your voice is loving
And calming
And suddenly I am
Filled with warmth
Even for a moment.

I am far from perfect,
But I am beginning to think
That you are okay with that.

Humans like to think
Other humans are
Replaceable.
Humans like to think
That they themselves
Are not.

But let me let you in on a secret:
Everyone is either a lesson
Or a blessing.

No lesson can be replaced,
And neither can any blessing.

Because in some way,
They were necessary to make you who you are.

I was told recently
About a book.
"The Missing Piece" by Shel Silverstein.

The lesson I was given from this book,
Is that you can have all kinds of pieces!
Pieces that don't fit, pieces that would never fit,
And pieces that look like they should fit but don't at all.

So if you ever feel replaceable,
Remember you are someone's perfect missing piece.
You just have to sort out through all the not-so perfect pieces first.

And before I cut this off,
I should explain,
Your perfect piece is not perfect because it is perfect in the textbook definition of the word.
Your piece is perfect
Because you will be so completely perfect to someone (All your damage, broken parts, and scars too) that you will not need to be perfect, no.

You will just have to be you,
And that in itself
Is irreplaceable.

My hands are always freezing cold,
Unless I'm somehow touching you.

Not the generic,
Clammy cold hands.
No,
Cold, and dry, and soft to the touch.
As though I stuck my hands in dry ice
Long enough for my hands to be frozen,
But not long enough for my skin to peel.

My feet are even colder.

But when I touch you,
Or you touch me,
It's like my body all of a sudden decided
"Let's have proper blood circulation,"
And then I over heat,
Because being warm isn't something I'm used to.

And I feel like something about this
Is a fantastic metaphor
For my bravado of cool and calm and apathetic
Melting all of a sudden,
All because of you.

Husky whisper of desire,
Voice weighed down by exhaustion and lust,
Hold my hand into the light.

For when we are old
And when we are grey
Know I will love you
Gladly and still.

And when I am slipping,
Fading into the grasp of the moon's pull,
Follow me.

I will lead you into
Depths of a soul
You deny having.

And I will tread,
Toes to your heels,
From the ends of the earth,
To the moon and back
And farther.

I'll count the scars
Scattered across my hands and arms
And hips and stomach
Instead of the stars that drift across
The sky.

I'll count the scars I have,
Most caused by me,
Some caused by others,
And I'll dream of a time
I was a clean slate,
A time I was better than I am now,
And I'll get better.
I promise I'm getting better.

And if your lips
Can grace my scars,
Then maybe I can have the nerve
To count stars
Instead of scars.

Fire is something that most people with common sense tend to fear.
It only destroys, says all the rationality.
It's said that fire only leaves embers and ashes
In place of things that were once colorful and filled with life.

But I will throw caution to the wind,
Along with the thick, black smoke from my burning soul.
For the fire in your eyes
Warms the ice in my heart,
To the point that I melt into something
Pliable and warm.

The frost-filled territorial rage that devours me whole,
Is replaced by the warmth of combining two souls.

And if it is foolish
To fall for the fire in someone's eyes,
Then paint me a fool,
Then paint me burned,
For the fire in your eyes
Warms my soul
For eternity.

B-/W-itches
Burn to the ground.

But I guarantee,
I'm the best at burning bridges,
So show me to the shambled mess,
And I'll ignite a fire
So very bright.

Because I'd rather suffocate
Than hear their names again.

I'd rather drown on the smoke
From when I burn the bridge down,
Than let petty brats walk along the planks again.

I'll burn that bridge
With them on it.

I'll ignite a flame so bright,
Ignite your plastic promises,
And throw the embers to the wind.

I hate the way you smile when you talk about her,
I hate the way you look forlorn when you think about what you did.
I hate that I wasn't there to be part of what you were.
I hate that I'm always second best, always outdid.

I hate the way I melt when our eyes meet.
I hate the way the toxins disperse.
I hate the way your eyes make my voice sweet,
I hate the way I make it so much worse.

I hate that I see love in your colors,
And I hate that I don't know if its' mine,
Or if its' others.
But I love the way those colors shine.

But most of all I hate that I can't hate you, even if I had to.
Because it's true. I have always loved you.

I used to think:
Who am I if I am not one with the rain?
Who am I if I am not a storm rolling through?

Who am I if I am not loyal to a fault?
Who am I if I don't risk everything for those I love?

I used to think,
Who am I if I don't fit here?
Who am I if I don't belong here?
Who am I if I'm not like everyone else?

Misshapen puzzle pieces,
Malformed from being left in the rain and sun-dried.
Cardboard hearts with self-inflicted paper cuts
And ribbons tied too tight to look elegant.

I used to think,
Who am I if I'm not who I wanted to be,
And I used to think,
Who am I if I hurt someone I care for?
Who am I if I fear storms?
Who am I if I stand up for myself and fail?

I used to think constantly,
But here's the key:
Don't think,
Don't try,
Act.

I am misshapen puzzle pieces
Left out to dry in the sun.
I am orange and black caterpillars,
And I am yellowing pages of old cloth bound books,
And I am one within the flames
That threaten to devour you.
I am garden snakes
And murders of crows.

It takes a long time to find who you are,
But once you take the time to find whoever it is
You're meant to be,
Well I have to say,
That journey takes some bravery.

I used to think.

How you can love me
Even with my moods,
Even with my short temper,
No matter how just or unjust.
That you can love me
Almost because of my laughing at my own jokes
A little too hard,
Or finding stupid little things
A little too funny.

How you can love me,
Even when I'm too tired to properly say goodbye
To you in the morning.
When my nightmares wake me up,
And then I proceed to wake you up.
How you can love me
Maybe despite all my scars and wounds,
Or maybe even because of them.

I just find it so crazy,
That you love me.

But I've learned to accept it,
That maybe I'm worthy of the love
I keep trying to give.
That being
The unconditional,
Comforting,
Appreciative,
Finally being home,
And finally being free,
Kind of love.

And that's how you make me feel.
Worthy, and comforted, and like I'm finally home and finally free.

I couldn't be more grateful if I tried.

If I told you that I'm not angry,
I'd be a liar.

And if I told you that a relationship is a two way street,
Would you even hear me?

I do a lot.
Maybe it all seems pretty small to you,
But I cook and I clean and I always greet you with a smile,
Even when you're being an ******* because you're stressed.

And I know I'm not perfect,
I know there's more I could do,
But I'm not a servant.

You could at least thank me,
Or do anything for me from time to time,
Instead of ignoring me for some stupid,
Poorly designed game.

You see where we're different,
But I see where we're not.

And maybe that's a dangerous way to be,
But I think my ****** bleeding heart would rather go out this way.

Don't you see where we're the same, too?

We all live by the same philosophies,
Protect what is ours.

But what if we protected each other?
What if we were kind of kind to one another?

Show empathy and understanding,
Humans are much too wrapped up in being
"Individuals"
That we'd rather be bad and cruel and knock each other down
Than be the kind of individuals
We actually need.

And in our misunderstanding
Of each other and our similarities,
It saddens me to say,
We become even more
The same.

I stare at the comment
On someone else's post
On another website.

I stare,
And I can barely feel my eyes brimming
With tears.

How quick you are
To devalue
Something so horrific.

And I'm completely aware
That there are some women,
And some men,
Who use the phrase
"****** assault,"
As some kind of scapegoat
To get off free from some type of experience
That they decide they regret
That they decide months after the fact
That they didn't want
I am aware
That this happens.

I am also aware
That there is a war on people,
And it is being led
By other people.

It is a war on something meant to be held close,
And dear,
And sacred.
A war on a way you're supposed to show another person,
Who is also of age,
That you care for them,
And only if they're also consenting.

*** is supposed to be warm and beautiful
And good.
Right?

It's not supposed to be violent,
And ******,
And scary,
And filled with danger.
It's not supposed to make you want to burn off your skin
When someone else so much as caresses your hand.

It isn't supposed to make you shut down
And feel sick.

I have nightmares almost every night
Of something that started when I was no more than sixteen.
I still wake up
Feeling like I can't breathe,
And I can still hear the rain and the thunder
Washing away my screams.

You can ignore this war all you want,
But did you know that one in every six women are sexually assaulted in one way or another?
Did you know that one in every thirty three men is survivor of ****** assault?
And one in every ten **** victims is male?

Every two minutes an American is sexually assaulted.
Did you know that?
12-34 year olds are most likely to be victims than anyone else.

I used to think all perpetrators of the crime
Should be strung up and fed to angry vultures,
But these days the PTSD has got me so bad
That I can't even come up with a valid argument
As to why.

I could do dishes for days,
And still not be done.

I could wash your laundry,
And vacuum the carpets,
And mop the tile floors.

But this place is not a home
Unless you are here.

I could fill the air with music
And forced laughter,
But unless you are here,
This is not my home.

For my home
Is wherever your heart resides;
For my home
Is within your arms.

There will be days
That you will shiver
And you will shake
And fear will blossom in the pit of your stomach
And in your wrists
Like a dark violet and mustard yellow flower,
That reeks of rotting flesh.

And it will wrap it's creeping, crawling vines around you,
And you will know true terror,
And, for what it's worth,
It will root from losing someone
In one way or another.

The hardest thing you will have to do
Will be saying goodbye
And still holding onto hope.

And you will grow to be a cynic,
And you will be filled with passive hatred,
For the fact that you had no choice
In what you would become--

But there will be light,
And there will be laughter,
And sometimes,
You will forget about that wilting flower.

Your hands will shake
With excitement or with fear,
But either way you must keep pressing forward.

And press forward you will.

For the fear and it's weeds
Are not reasons that excuse your faltering,
And moving forward for that chance
At a glimpse of a blissful smile
Is reason enough to keep going.

I am tearful and apologetic words,
Like a broken record,
The tear drops play on repeat.

I'd stop it if I could,
But I cannot.

My voice reverberates visions of the past
And apologies bouncing off of walls.

Empathy and guilt envelop me
And I am found wrapped in a cocoon
Of forethought and hindsight.

Impulsively,
I asked hypothetical questions
And fear nearly constricted my vocal chords,
But the fire in your eyes
Warmed me to the point that the fear of rejection freezing my voice and myself
Melted into my blood stream.

And I feel as though,
You might have known
If I hadn't been so afraid,
And you hadn't been so wary.

But waking up in your arms,
And feeling the beat of your heart
And seeing the vibrant expanse of your sunset reds/oranges and sea foam blues/greens,
Makes up for any embarrassing moment
Or awkward fear and anxious hesitation
I might have committed.

I am thankful
That you somehow look past
All the tears that stream down my face,
And my cold front of apathy when I'm not necessarily pleasant,
And somehow see a heart
Worth keeping around.

I've made more than my fair share of mistakes,
And I've done wrong
And I've hurt others,
And maybe one day I'll succumb to the guilt,
But today isn't that day,
Nor is tomorrow,
Or the day after.

And some days I feel like I'll never be
Quite enough for anyone,
Especially the likes of you,
But other days I feel safe and sound
In the grouping of stars that brought us together.

I have more faith in the universe,
While you have more faith in humans.
It makes a lot of sense, when you sit down and think about it.

I have been let down by choices and decisions that easily
Could not have been made,
And you have been let down by things
Beyond your control.

And you seem to be mostly intact,
But I know there are parts of you that aren't.
And maybe, if I cannot heal the broken parts of me,
They could fit into the broken parts of you,
In that lopsided sort of way
That could make us both
Whole.

I dream in constellations,
Stars burning and the moon spinning in it's orbit,
Pulling and pushing the tides.
Tugging on my heartstrings,
Whispering things
To me ever so softly,
"You can be better,"
"You can be whole,"
"You've finally home,
"But your work is not done."

I dream in constellations
Of birds that softly sing,
And stories that have yet to be told.

And sometimes I wonder
Why I'm only ever cold when we're not touching,
When you're far away.

And I wonder if I'm ever
Far from you.

If I ever seem distant
Or like I could slip out from your fingers
At any second.

I want to apologize if I do.

I never intend
On going away.
Against all odds and obstacles,
I promise I'm here to stay.

Blasting music as loud as my little internet machine
Will let me,
And for such a pointless computer,
This thing gets pretty loud.

And I've caught myself humming or singing
Which for me is strange.

And I guess I'm happier,
Even though I'm still waiting for it all
To come crashing down.

But for now,
I'm hoping it won't.
I just hope I can manage a smile out of you
Today.

I'm lost within the breath of the trees,
Found only by your eyes,
And the sincerity within your words.

Spinning webs of thought,
Each silken thread weaving into yet another web and another and another
Pull me closer and away from the webs
Belonging to my spider of a mind
That will swallow me whole.

And on every drive with you
Where the blue sky is overtaken by royal  violets and navy blue
I count the stars until I can't feel my sunset eyes,
And all I can dream of is the way your hand feels in mine.

And I hope you don't mind,
But the starscape has devoured me entirely,
And maybe I'm just a heavenly body
Drifting through lilac fog
Hoping to bring you back a little sanity
And a little soul.

Because you ignite fires in me
Within the very depths of my soul
And I only hope to return the favor.

He yells in frustration,
Or you curse out in irritation,
And I flinch because I recall

Hard fists against my hips,
And knuckles into my abdomen,
And knees into my stomach,
And open palms against my cheek bones.

And somehow it is expected of me
To not flinch in fear
At thrown objects
Or hands coming too close, too swiftly towards my face.

I am expected not to shudder in fear
At the aggravation and aggression in someones voice
When it becomes too close for comfort.

But your hands on my shoulders,
My wrists,
My cheeks softly wiping away hot tears,
Gives me the ability to block out all this
Loud.

Sometimes the light is hard to see
Behind the fog of my instinctual self-hatred,
And sometimes the light is hard to find
Behind the fog that is my mind,

But you seem to be able
To crawl and wriggle your way through
The cracks in my defenses,
Piercing the the core of the walls,
And finding a way to my heart.

And you hold a light within your palms,
And a fire in your eyes,
And I don't know where it comes from,
Yet.

But I'm willing to put forth the effort
To find out.

And I wonder if the light
Held within your palms
Is enough to warm me up and heal me
In all the ways that time hasn't been able to.

And I'm scared and I'm nervous,
You could so easily break me.

But I'm trusting
That you won't.

And when I look at the colors
That spiral and cascade around you
I wonder if you understand
I see everything you think and feel
In a lack of detail
So that I know it's there,
But I have no idea what it means.

So when you hurt,
It feels like a thousand burning knives
Piercing through my ribs and the flesh of my heart.

And I wish I could bottle
The fire in your eyes
So that way when you're far away
I have some part of you to keep me warm.

I'll just have to trust
That your promises are sound,
And that the light within your palms
Will always somehow find me
In the darkest depths
I tend to swim.

I would love to be told
what makes me worthwhile
because it's easy to be insecure
when you refrain from telling me
anything.

cold wraps its filthy arms around me
and I shiver and shudder and my legs fall asleep
and I feel far from you
and maintaining anything negative in your general direction
is so difficult for me,
so why do I bother?

I guess I do it
because I'm scared.

In order to tame something wild
you must first break it.

and I have never been tamed,
but I've been broken many times.

I have a wild spirit
from here and beyond

but you pull on my reigns,
and I oblige to your wishes,
even though my insides scream out in defiance,
wanting to tell you no, never.
I deserve to be treated better.

but my heart's rock hard ice
melts at your guilty expression,
and the pain in your eyes
and your voice
and I don't want my pain
to be the cause of yours.

so you throw your jacket,
and the aggression behind it makes me flinch,
and you tell me "I won't hurt you,"
as calmly as I think you could.
and I apologize

and you tell me I've done nothing wrong,
and I apologize again

because maybe I did deserve to be demeaned
in that round-about way
and then I have to stop myself
from the dangerous thoughts
the running away coursing through my veins
screams at me.

I'm no good for you
I'm too much for you
I should leave and never come back
you deserve someone so much better

because maybe it's true.
you deserve someone who doesn't look at every flirtatious ***** and thoughtless action as a threat to what we have.

but maybe I deserve to be reassured,
and maybe I deserve to be treated with thought and care.

and maybe you can do that.

I guess we'll work on it.

but maybe I'm not so broken
if I can tell you this.

I'm bleeding,
can't you tell?

I have iron overshadowing my scent
and gore coating my skin.

I'm bleeding,
can't you tell?

it's pooling at my feet,
and dripping down my stomach.

I'm bleeding,
can't you tell?

it's spurts from my heart
and begins to film at my ribcage.

I'm bleeding,
can't you tell?

the blood from my veins is seeping through my pours,
and streaming from my tear ducts.

I'm bleeding,
can't you tell?

I'm wounded,
I'm hurt,
I'm so broken and damaged and--

I'm bleeding--

wait.

no, I'm not.

I'm slowly healing, and the wound is scabbing over.

I'm gonna be okay.

I sign my letters
usually with a dash and then my name,
or a "Yours Truly,"
because of a song I heard
when I was, I think, seventeen.

maybe eighteen.

but if I were to write you
a letter
I'd fill it with all the different ways
you light up my soul
or all the different ways
you fill up my heart

and if I were to write you,
I'd kiss the seal of the envelope
to make sure you felt me somehow,
and if I were to write you,
I'd send the letter with sugar and oatmeal raisin cookies,
and red and black tea.
and if I were to write you,
I wouldn't unless you were too far away
to hold.

because as much as I simply adore letters
and the written word
having you in my arms now
is much too important
to miss out on.

yours truly,
and yours forever.

I want to scramble eggs
to mix into fried rice and
fried ramen noodles
and mix up my brains
with the spatula
along with the rest
of the dish.

because my insanity
is quite the pain,
and my insanity
is due to be the end of me.

and if I scramble my brains
into the eggs
then my last thought would be
"I could have cooked this meal
way better."