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 forfeited
the right to my heart
the moment
I went in for a hug.

I forfeited
the right
to my heart
the moment
I decided
this was it.

mistake or otherwise,
everything I do is the same.
grand and full of intention.

You ever here of those flowers?
Forget-me-nots.

How about just
Forget me,
Everyone else does,
Everyone else can.

It's easy.
Walk away.
See how much I ******* care.

(It's a lot. I care a lot.)

I don't look forward to a lot.
I don't have a lot going for me.
But **** it if I don't try.

I'd like to say
That you should be
******* honored
That I look forward to speaking to you,
But you shouldn't be.

What am I even worth?

I'm easy to lose.

Got running away
Running through my veins.

Just one more thing
To steer clear of.
Shouldn't be too hard.

But it is,
Because I'll run back to you
And back to you
And back to you
Until you push me away.

Don't push me away,
But how can I say that
When you don't even want to pull me in?

Love me
Forget me
Pick petals off of flowers
Because it's ******* easier
Than letting it grow into something beautiful.

Who the **** cares!
Not me.
(Yes me. Always me. Only me.)

Love me.
Leave me.
Forget me.

It's the name of the game,
Honey.
It's the name of the game,
My darling.

I could make you a list of all that's wrong here.
And even then, the fault would still be mine.

Dad, you always told me
"Don't open that door."
You would say the same words to my brother,
But they didn't mean the same thing.
When you said them to him,
They were a warning.
When you said them to me,
They were a threat.

Dad, you always looked at me
Like I was the problem.
Like I am the reason things got bad.
That I asked for this,
All of this.

Dad, you always looked at me
Like I was the reason mom got sick,
Like I was the reason you couldn't keep a job,
Like I was the reason we lost every house, every apartment, and every picture that reminded us that there was a time when things were good.

Dad, you always looked at me
Like I was the poison,
Not the ***** in your coffee mug,
Not the bugs crawling out of the floorboards,
Not the choices you made.

Dad, you always looked at me
Like I was the reason big brother won't come home.
Like I was the reason your family got torn apart.
But we were never a family, dad. Not really.

Dad, you always looked at me
Like if it wasn't for me
Mom would be so much more alive
Than she is right now.
Like if it wasn't for me,
Your youngest son, my youngest brother,
Wouldn't have spent that Christmas in the hospital,
And we'd still have that apartment.

Dad, you always looked at me
Like I carried everything bad about you
On my shoulders, and that was my own fault.

Dad, you always looked at me
Like I could have closed the door at anytime.
Like I purposely wandered into that room.
Like I meant to be this way.
Like I wanted this.

Dad, you always looked at me
Like it was my own fault
That I was born with the door ripped off its hinges
And that I entered the room of my own volition,
When we both know that was where I was born.

Dad, you always looked at me
Like I was a waste of potential.
Like me being alive
Was your punishment
For all the bad things you've done.

Dad, mom always tells me
How much I look like you.
How I have all your good traits.

Dad, mom always looks at me
Like I could save us.
Like I could bring back the light.
Like I just only need a chance.

Dad, you always told me
That the only person you'd listen to
About your drinking and cruelty
Was me.

Dad, you never listened.

Dad, every time I told you
That I didn't feel safe,
That I was scared,
That I didn't want to be alive,
You always looked at me
Like you didn't understand why I thought you would care.

Dad, when I was little,
You looked at me like
I held stars in my palms.
Like I could do anything.
Like I was worth everything.

Dad, I didn't mean it.
Dad, I really tried to make it go away.

Dad, I'm sorry.

I forgave you in mid-June,
After you blocked me on
Whatever social media
You wanted to use.

I found out recently you took the photos of me
Off your other social media,
The one that was primarily pictures.

And it's fine, really.
It's easier to remember the people you hate,
Than the people you've hurt.
Purge me from your life,
Forget a year of living,
Whatever.

I just find it,
Ultimately, the most extreme
Form of cowardice
I have ever perceived.

Why take ownership
Of the sins you've committed
And seek a way to repent and change,
When you can just erase the memories
And continue on
As a vapid narcissist.

Have you told her you love her yet?
I hope she knows you're lying,
If you did.
Because you told me a week or two
Into our relationship,
And continued for a year.
All of it was either *******,
Or you're lying right now,
To everyone.

I'll break every promise I made,
Because you're all self serving,
And the majority of you are liars.
I'll tell you who told me about
All the lies and mistruths
You spoke before we ended
And after too.
Just like all the girls before me,
You got bored and decided
You'd be a crybully and end it as a victim.
You're a child, a spoiled child for that.
For doing this to me and everyone before me,
And probably everyone after,
Because you'll never be happy
With anyone who has free thought,
And doesn't want to be slave to your desires
And tantrums.

Can you guess who told me everything?
You used to hate them,
But they grew on you (with help from me)
And now they're marrying one of your best friends.
I hope that was clear enough for you,
You're a little dense.

Good thing she bailed too.

I can't wait for the moment when I can tell
Everyone every awful thing you did.

I forgave you,
In mid-June,
For every horrible thing you did
To me.
Whether it was in the beginning of "Us"
or the end,
And everything
In between.

Because there is no more
"Us".
Only your lies
And my memories.

The only thing I regret
From our time together,
Was that I wasn't the one who ended it.

Go ahead and twist the knife in my stomach.
I don't care anymore.
I hope it rusts in your hands,
And your callouses and blisters get infected.

I am not going down
Without a fight.

You have your lies!
I have my memories.
Who's the coward here?

I forgave you
In mid-June.

There are many ways in which a person can be broken,
And many ways in which a person can be healed.

And pain shows itself in various platforms.

Some people numb their pain through entertainment, or ***, or drugs.
Other people allow their pain to be felt,
Through music or writing or art.

Some people lash out because of their broken parts.
Whether it be through rage, physical or verbal,
Or tears that tear them open.

And the only way to truly heal and learn from
The things that break you,
Is to feel them.

So hold the memories of what broke you close to your heart,
Remember the things that were taken with a grain of salt.
Maybe they weren't as good as you wanted them to be,
As you remember them to be,
Maybe it wasn't all it was cracked up to be,
But it was still there,
And it was still yours,
And it was still important.

It is important to mourn,
Important to grieve,
To remember the loss,
Because it was part of you.

And maybe that's what pain is entirely.
It's all some kind of loss.

But we gain new parts of ourselves
After every loss.
And maybe that's important.

What can heal best
And what can hurt best
Other than the love we give
And the love we get?

There's a funny kind of feeling
That stirs within your stomach
And it flutters into your chest,
And pulls into your bones,
The very same way
Fear paralyzes you,
This feeling drives you to act.

And there's a funny type of way
That the fire in your eyes burn
And there's a funny type of way
It burns me.

I think they call it lovesick
Because love makes you ache,
And it hurts.
It twists at your heart,
Especially in moments
Where you can't make anything better,
And even worse in the moments
Where you can't explain
Why you hurt so bad.

Because there are moments
Where you feel defeated
Because the past
Feels like it weighs more than you can lift.

And when I dream,
I dream of those who tried to destroy me,
And I am not to be destroyed
By any God nor man,
I am much too stubborn for that.

Though when I dream,
I sometimes dream of the day I'll finally lose you,
And I say finally because that day is sure to come.

And I have seen hell,
And I have greeted Death,
And I have defied him
And denied his offers.

Have I ever told you
Of when I was a child?
When I was admitted into the hospital
For two weeks or longer
Because I was so sick
That if I had gotten there in later
I wouldn't be here,
And I would never have met you.

And since that brief encounter
With death
I had forever since been confused
And fascinated by Death.

Maybe Death only steals us away,
Because he is lonely.
That is a thought I once had.

That Death is terribly lonely,
And it has skewed his selfless thoughts
Into selfish ones.

But he releases us,
Into Otherworlds
Upon teaching us
What we had to learn from here.

There are parts to my life
In which I have seen hell,
And I have felt it.
In which I have stood up to face it,
And it has left me bent in a way
That I'm not sure if I can go back
To how I was before.

I know I have been bent
Into a different shape
But sometimes it's hard to tell
If I can ever go back
To my previous shape.

And maybe I can't.

And maybe I don't want to.

Maybe my lines
Just need to be more defined
And maybe I'll be
Just fine.

I am not the same shape
I was before.
I have jagged edges
And indents and scuffs,
But I am better
As the shape I am now.

It is unfair of me to ask you
To love this shape compared to the one
You once knew.

But if you are
To find a way
To love it
The same,
Then please,
Go ahead.

"I have been bent and broken. But, I hope, into a better shape." - Charles Dickens, Great Expectations

For the first time,
I'm bidding farewell to Summer
With a heavy heart,
As the Autumn weather
Comes rolling in,
And I'm brimming with
Anxious excitement.

I've spent my days
Studying faces
Dreaming of far off places,
Humming under the light
Of the harvest moon.

I feel more at home
Amongst purple and black clouds
And snow drifting down from the heavens
In the middle of the night.

I feel more at home
Watching the rain fall to Earth,
And the quiet of the cold
Gracing the winds,
From my windowsill,
Than I feel in a crowd of people.

I've never been great at
Letting go of memories
Or of anything
But I can feel it slipping,
This isn't my home,
And just as Summer turns
Into Autumn,
Things have to change.

And just like I've always
Loved breathing in the crisp
Smells of Fall,
And watching the leaves change and turn
As the trees let them go
With bitter-sweet farewells,
I have to let go of who I was,
And my own leaves
That though sick and dying,
Are, in their own way,
Still beautiful
In all shades of colors
From black to red.

So for the first time
In my entire life,
I'm saying a goodbye
To what used to be,
I'm letting go
Of the pain that built me.

And for the first time
In my life,
I'm looking forward
To all that the future may hold.
Every falling leaf,
Every blizzard,
Every April shower
And May flower,
And every single
Ray of sunlight.

1 - The number of times I've been livid because of you and nobody else. Wow, this is new.

2 - The number of people that check in on me consistently. (Here's a hint, it's you and it's my best friend.)

3 - The number of almost-but-pretty-close-to melt downs I've had this week.

4 - How many times I check my phone within an hour to see if you've responded, when I know you haven't responded.

5 - How many times I've been to the doctor's in the past two months.

6 - On a scale of one to ten, ten being the worst, how ****** I feel.

7 - the amount of scars on my left hand.

8 - How often a single thought of you can make me smile within a span of ten minutes.

9 - How many times I've realized I shouldn't be upset but I still am because I miss you **** it and I just want to talk to you, especially since I feel like I've been hit by a bus.

10 - Approximately how many hugs I need right now, going up by the hour.

Fragile and frozen
Like a sculpture
Made out of
Thin ice.

The depths beneath,
Are dark and cold,
And will lull you
Into a trickster's sleep.

One after the other,
They dare to break the ice
Of her skin,
And she looks at them
With pitch black eyes.

And they cannot tell
If it is fiery destruction,
Or the cold embrace of the unknown
That sits behind her iris's,
But either way,
Knees start to shake,
And teeth start to clatter.

Grasping at their throats,
Hands grabbing at flesh,
She stares at the foolish nature of them,
And blinks.

There is no action,
No voice.

Turning from the airy
Ice cold presence,
They take a stab at the statuesque
Figure of stone
And she screams.

It's shrill
And suddenly she turns,
And claws are tearing at their eyes.

Dark eyes bleeding black.

She bites into
Their throats,
Ripping part A
From part B.

Scarred knuckles crack
Onto jaws
And she
Loses it.

Upon the thought of loss,
She is neither fragile or frozen.

Do you think
You could find the solution
To all this confusion
Within the lines
Of our Constituition?

No, no, hear me out,
Listen to these words,
That's what it's all about.

See, you think this is a Christian nation,
So let me explain,
Let me offer an explanation.

The point of this place,
Of our foundation,
Was freedom from persecution,
So let me clear the air
Of your verbal pollution.

See, the answer is in the opening statement,
In the words that expressed our need
For a moral replacement.

Listen, just listen,
To the words that would christen
Ever chance we are given
To pursue our ambition.

See, you want freedom.
You claim that is your cause,
But I'd wait a second,
Let my words give you pause.

Do you want freedom of religion,
Or is it just your decision
To bend with omission
Making the moral-north
Your special brand
Of Christian superstition?

See, you might not like
What I have to say,
But not much really matters
When you've been led astray.

The words that were written
Were giving permission
To speak fact or fiction
In whatever rendition
Suits your composition.

What was said was
"Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion,"
Removing any notion
Of this nation being Christian.

They went on to add
"... or prohibiting the free exercise thereof;"
Establishing that we should dispose of
This notion that no love
Is the only free love.

It was then mentioned
That no one within power
Could prevent the intention
Of speaking loudly enough
That all could listen.

We were told our right
Was freedom of speech
That we all have
Our very own thoughts to preach.

We were given freedom of the press,
To say whatever truth must be addressed,
So we have more options,
More answers
Than just "No" or "Yes".
Nevertheless,
This process
Seems to digress
Away from the point,
To liberate the oppressed.

Listen,
This world is filled with danger,
We cannot take pride in being a nation of strangers,
Where the failings of our system
Is taken out on a teenager.

I just feel like we were supposed to be better,
Than a thread of angry tweets
And a Scarlet Letter.
I look back at those kids
Who have only blood on their sweaters,
And I start to remember
That we, the people,
We, the hopeful,
We don't surrender.
We are stronger together.

And as a former child
Whose smile
Was defiled
And wasn't given a chance
Before being exiled,

I urge you to look at your own,
To thank those you love
For always coming home.

I dare you to look an innocent in the eyes
And tell them there are so many possessions
That are worth more than their lives.

Because, to you,
Nobody is their own.
It is well known
That you will cast the first stone
Until you hear the break of their bones.
Why is it so important to you,
Someone else's *** chromosome?
Someone's reason for leaving home?
Someone making choices for their own?

You act like you do no wrong,
That as long
As you spit venom
The hatred will make you strong
But I know
That you knew all along
The enemy was never me
Or the people
We strive to be,

But it was the voice
That you use so cruelly
And told us not to believe,
So believe me when I say,
There will come a day
One cold Sunday
Where the runaways
Won't run away,
And you'll hear us say
"Come what may,
We're here to stay."

Because the rate of suicides
Is becoming much too high
For us to try
To hide
This monster that's eating us up inside
We try to confide
That it's this or that side
But we are all aware
That if we just put down our pride,
And stood with our hands held together
Our eyes fixed on the sky
We could do better,
We could love one another,
We could accept every sister or brother or other.
It just depends
On how soon we want the bloodshed to end.

My skin is like ice,
And your touch is fire.
And you've melted me,
Melting me,
Into something I don't recognize.
No more walls, no more hiding,
No more being afraid.
Ever so slowly getting comfortable
With being loved.

Your heart is ice,
There's warmth close, beneath the surface.
But you don't speak to what your mind thinks,
You don't speak of the fire in your eyes,
Or the storm within your chest.
But I see it,
And I know it,
Because I feel that fire in your gaze
And it bleeds into me through every kiss,
And I know that storm fairly well,
It guides me back to your arms
When I feel wayward and scared.

And your voice is level and steady,
An array of soft orange at its' most anxious,
But cool blue and green at its' most loving and calm,
And I've grown so used to that
That when it's not,
Whether it be jokingly so or otherwise,
I grow concerned due to the intentions of others before you.

I'm freezing, honestly,
But I know when you're home,
I have a fire to look forward to.

And within my dream
I recall,
The ferocity of which I could
Only really growl,
"Leave him alone,"
An "Or Else." bleeding through
My tone.

And the images of
Those that have granted me
Only nightmares
Flashed before my eyes
And I realized
My own sins
Have made theirs seem greater.

I know what lies look like,
I know how they read.

Hatred makes a truth
Twisted and convoluted,
Makes you see double the pain,
Double the anguish.

It exaggerates hurt,
And lengthens the scars.

I am aware of this,
For I do not speak
My hatred's names.

I  dreamt of fire last night,
I dreamt of flames.

But you are the cold winds,
You are the rain.

I need the rain,
To **** the fire
That burned at my flesh,
At the raw parts of my heart.

And so you did.

I woke up four times last night,
And each and every time
I reached for you,
And though you were not there,
I prayed to God you got home safely.

And I miss you so,
But I know
That in four weeks time,
All this missing you will be so worth it,
Because then I will be yours,
For I love you more than forever,
More than always.

I hope to only let you bask
In the light I have found for myself,
So that I may know who I am,
And so that I may love who you are.

I remember you saying
That lions do not concern themselves
With the opinions of sheep,
And while I am still working on
Ignoring sheep,
I hope you know
That I will proudly be your lioness,
If you are to be my lion.

You're ten years old,
And it's your first day of fifth grade.
Your mom made you wear something feminine,
Not quite girly, because you would have thrown a fit
And she just doesn't have it in her anymore to fight with you.
You spent the last three days hiding in the corner of closet with your dog,
Crying because you don't want to grow up.
And this year, you have to. This year, it means you are doing just that.
Grown ups are never happy.
You don't want this.
You're nervous and insecure as you search for your name
Written in permanent marker on some laminated name tag
Taped to a desk made of linoleum that looks like wood.
When you find it, you cringe at the way the teacher wrote your last name.
All pretty and feminine, when "Blood" is nowhere near that,
But you sigh and accept it,
As you watch the other kids filter in.
Two boys walk in, they introduce themselves.
Another boy walks over, settles himself at the desk near yours,
You notice he's shorter than you,
And already being small, it makes you feel somewhat better.
He notices you staring,
And your father's voice echoes in your head,
"Staring is rude...!"
So you look at the book on your desk,
The one about cats that's below your reading level,
But thick enough to hide behind.
Sooner or later,
One of you introduces yourself to the other.
You only stop smiling that day when your older brother gets hold of you.

You're eleven, in sixth grade.
He's still your best friend,
And you were chattering all about him in the car to your dad
On the way home.
Mom's still sick.
Hasn't seemed to recover from the car accident last year that you still blame yourself for.
They've both come to the conclusion you have a crush on this boy,
And it's special. Your first crush.
You disagree wholeheartedly, but that will change.
You get home, into your room to start on homework,
But then your stomach starts hurting.
Everything starts hurting.
You're getting dizzy.
There's so much blood,
And it's making you queasy.
You scream and cry, you don't understand.
Your mother warned you that this is a big part of getting older,
But you don't want it.
You run to tell her,
She helps you clean up,
But you miss your chorus concert that night,
And the next two days of school
Because you can't get out of bed
It hurts so bad,
Worse than when big brother is mad.
You don't talk to him when you get back to school
For the next three days,
Because you're ashamed that this is part of you,
That you're grown up,
And if you talk to him he might find out
And not want to be your friend anymore.

You're twelve, and in seventh grade.
You came home from school,
A little bummed.
You barely got to see your friends that summer,
Definitely not him,
And you don't have any classes
With any friends
Or him.
But he was on your mind all summer,
So you've come to the conclusion that you'll just
Find him in the hallways
Or at lunch.
Your father comes to you with some bad news.
Mom's still sick. We don't know why.
You frown, but nod. It seems like he has more to say.
And he does,
"We're moving."
And you ask, calmly but your hands are shaking as you begin preparing a snack for your little brothers, "Will I stay in the same school?" Having been home schooled twice and sent to four different elementary schools (one of which you were sent to twice) you were genuinely worried. Not to mention you had no way of contacting him or anyone else.
"No, you'll be switching schools."
You give your brothers their snacks,
And you begin to walk to your room.
You have to get out of the room,
But you're already crying. "Are you sure?" You've already started the fight.
And from there insults are thrown, and it's an all out screaming match,
Who can be louder?
Who can be meaner?
Like wolves fighting for who should be alpha,
Who can bare more of their teeth
Before the other lunges for their throat.
It happens with similar personality types.
And finally,
The straw the breaks the camels back,
"What, are you in love with somebody?"
As though mocking your ability to care.
You go to your room,
And close the door without slamming it.
You look at your sketch book
Flip open to a page and draw.
Put on music.
Anything to drown out what you're feeling.
You look at the clock.
You look at the clock again.
It was six fifteen.
Now it's twelve forty five.
You're covered in your own blood and feel dizzy.
You cry harder,
As you pour hydrogen peroxide onto the scrapes and cuts on your arms, and bandage them up.
Put on your mother's old black hoodie,
And so it begins.

You're thirteen,
It's summer time.
A friend just texted you that his sister died.
You can't breathe. It's your fault, if you had only been there for both of them.
You should have been there.
You weren't, though.
It takes your little brothers waking you up at six am screaming
To get you to come out of your room after four days.
This time the screaming match is with your older brother,
And though you're terrified,
You win this one.
But he isn't happy,
And neither will you be.

You're fourteen, ninth grade. New friends that all adore your clothes and last name.
You're the new kid at a new school.
Again.
"Ask him out! He's your friend! That's how relationships start!"
You'll mull it over, but something in your gut says not to even stick around.

You're fourteen.
Going to your brother's old school's football game.
That boy from fifth grade? He's there.
You want to talk to him all night, but you realize he has his friends there.
You speak with him as much as you can,
But you can feel yourself fading out.
Brother isn't happy with you that night.

You're fourteen. One of your little brothers is sick in the hospital.
It's Christmas. You're all there to go see him.
They have to rush him to another hospital.
You're praying for an angel. You didn't even know you still believed in a God but
"Desperate times call for desperate measures," You sigh as you kneel to say another plea.
Your mother calls,
He's gone.
You can't breathe.
Things are going black,
But you can't do this.
Not here,
Not now.
Your mother gasps on the other line,
He's back.
Maybe God is real.

You're fifteen.
A boy touched you without asking.
You didn't like it.
You're at home and you can't stop throwing up.
Your brother's at-the-time girlfriend texts you,
You tell her you don't want to exist.
He figures out that you're purging.
No one ever asks why.

You're fifteen.
He hits you for the first time because you said no.
You go home,
And don't know what to do.
They all said this was normal,
And maybe it is.
It's nothing new, right?
Just a different person.
You're at the computer,
Decide to make a page called
"The Sun Came Out to See You"
Because you need a reason to keep going,
And maybe that's all you got.
You roll up your sleeves,
And your mother catches note of the scratches and cuts scabbed over
All over your arms.
It isn't a screaming match this time.
She's screaming,
You sit there, ashamed.
Your father cries--
It won't be the last time you make him cry.
You go to your room,
Your parents are still fighting
Mom leaves,
You black out again.
It's the largest scar you have.
Mom doesn't come back until after work the next day.
You don't show her your hands again for months.

You're sixteen, sophomore year.
Your mother has been diagnosed with stage four breast and ovarian cancer.
The doctors have done as many surgeries as possible, but the cancer is still there.
They're doing all they can.
You refuse to accept that this is it.

You're sixteen.
You've finally escaped that horrible boy without any of the messy stuff,
And you're living in Georgia.
It's horrible,
But if you can escape this,
Maybe you can get back to your best friend from all those years ago.
You wake up smiling for the first time in years
Because you dreamnt of him.
It was warm and hopeful and foolish.
The dream becomes the place you retreat to so you can escape reality.
No one ever learns of it.

You're sixteen. You move back home.
You're taken in by your drama teacher.
Your mom is losing hair from the chemo.
That horrible boy is back in your life.
Something terrible happens
He's horrible
But how can even this happen
People don't do this
That's not how this happened
You said no
You screamed
You hit him
And it hurt,
Oh god it hurt.
You don't come out of your room
To socialize anymore.
You escape reality
As often as you can.

You're eighteen. You just turned eighteen. It's senior year.
You get a phone call.
Your friend was out of class.
He killed himself that morning.
It's your fault.
You saw the signs
And did nothing.
You'll hate yourself for it
To this day.

You're eighteen, almost nineteen.
He does it again,
For the umpteenth time.
Differently,
But the same.
You hit him with a book.
And after two years of telling him you want out of the relationship,
This time he leaves you,
With violent words.
You cry at the front door.
You go to the psychiatric hospital for the third time.
You're finally free.

You're twenty.
You've been trying to feel better,
And maybe you finally are.
You've dropped out of school,
You can't seem to balance it with work,
And your grant got taken
Because you went from being a foster child
To being adopted.
You meet him in a parking lot,
With your best friend at the time.
He's brash and straight forward,
And for some reason you find that charming,
You're inexperienced and vulnerable
And he takes advantage of that.
You last one year with him where you aren't allowed to speak to YOUR friends or family
Before he abandons you on your (real) best friend's doorstep
With nothing but the clothes on your back
And the shoes on your feet.

You're twenty one.
The Monday after he left you he went out
With the girl he cheated on you with.
You don't know this yet.
You go to the hospital
Because you have to get better,
Be better.
And you meet great people there,
Probably talk about yourself too much,
But you're told "Please be strong; Please be brave"
After you realize you're a good person
And you should like yourself.
The words stick.
Sadly, the people don't.

You're twenty one,
You have that "escape from reality" dream again,
But it's different.
You live with your biological parents again,
Your mother beat cancer.
You are sure God is real.
You decide to contact that boy from fifth grade,
That you loved even past seventh grade.
You're nervous
But he actually responds.
You talk almost every day
Until July
When you meet up for the first time
In seven  years.
When you see him,
You want to hug him but you're scared.
He's grown up.
He's taller than you.
He's handsome.
You frown internally.
"Don't fall that easy," You think.
You don't listen.
You tell him you like him,
Two days later.
He likes you back!

You're twenty one,
You're writing this poem.
You love wearing feminine clothing,
And you could care less about your last name (almost, still hate it a little).
On both your little brother's birthday,
You'll have been dating that boy you've loved for so long for three months.
You've loved him all this time,
All this time it's always been him.
No one else.
After four months,
You'll live together.
Because he's not only the love of your life (literally)
But your best friend.
And you couldn't be happier.
And you look at your scars,
Slightly ashamed,
But you remember that he kisses each and every one,
And you remember that your scars
Have nothing to do
With who you are,
Rather with how you've grown.
You talk to your father about him,
And he approves.
Remember when I said that wouldn't be the last time you make him cry?
All the other times you make him cry will be for better reasons.
You've grown up.
But you were wrong.
You're happy.

Manic Depression means a lot of things.
It means when I'm up, I'm way up.
It means when I'm down, I'm way, way down.

My PTSD makes me *** repulsed,
And my manic depression gives me an excess desire for ***,
And my demisexuality makes me only want that
With you.

With manic depression,
There's lots of unwanted thoughts,
And destruction on my self esteem,
And a false sense of superiority all at once.

And my generalized anxiety disorder
Makes me hyper-vigilant,
And repeatedly going over unwanted thoughts.

And my major depression,
It makes me lose my appetite,
It causes slowness in my activity,
Y'know,
All that usual exhaustion.

But I guess the thing is,
If I can pick myself back up
From complex PTSD and the other plethora of things,
I guess I'll be okay.

It can be difficult, but it's the best I can do.

I can only be the best I can be,
And I'm still working on that.

Pale skin,
Red lips,
Dark eyes,
Dark hair.

Drift in and out of nothingness,
And try to haunt my efforts to get better.

I buried that skeleton long ago,
So stay down
In the deepest depths
Of the muddiest ground.

Threats of breaking skulls,
If it is dared to pull me under.

I am not who I once was,
And I have shed memories
Like snakes shed skin.

I cringe and writhe in agony
At the person I used to be.

Blackened eyes
And reddened cheeks,
Bruised hip bones
And ****** knuckles.
I am shamed to say,
I can see
How it came to be,
This ghost of me.

But she is gone,
And I am new,
To say goodbye
To the ghost of me and
All she's been through.

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.

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.

Your eyes are
gold like my heart
but blue like the sky
and if I could fathom why
they'd be the last thing I'd see
before the world dies.

you are the warmth of the sun
with all the ambition of the moon,

and if you were to leave
the day after forever,
it would be too soon.

I have never
Been considered
"Good enough".

A thing I have struggled with
My entire life.

I have never
Been considered
"Good."

By the people
Who supposedly make those judgments.

But who am I?
To live my life by judgments
Of others
Who are not in my head,
And who were not there for the events
That have made me who I am.

Because those that matter
Will stay,
Will listen,
Will hear me out
In the darkest depths
Of my darkest moments.

They will understand
My defense mechanisms
Of hostile sarcasm
And quiet tears that come too often.

I close my eyes,
And remember a voice,
Remember a smile,
A laugh,
And everything slows and calms
Rather rapidly.

And I am in love
And I am happy,
And I am okay.

My Bluebird
Loves me,
And I am not alone,
Despite the feelings the nightmares haunt me with.

And darkness,
Sick and strange,
Tries to creep inside my mind,
And I will fight it off.
As I am good,
And that in itself is good enough.

You wanted to help me
Even when exhausted
And my worst fear that came true,
Didn't push you far away from me.

And you're probably dozing off,
Or looking drowsily at your phone,
But I am so proud to be your
Hummingbird.

I wish you could have seen
The way you made me beam
Tonight.

Stay up here,
Right next to me.

We don't need to be
Down to Earth,
I'd rather have my head in the clouds,
Fly through the stars with me.

We can visit Orion,
And I'll tell the story wrong
About him and Artemis,
In hopes that you'll correct me enough,
That you just end up telling it,
Because I love hearing you speak.

And the gravity of situations
And circumstances
Will try to send us plummeting
Back to Earth,
But don't fret, my Bluebird.
Don't fret,
It can't get us, yet.

It won't get us yet.

Situational circumstances
And all their gravity
Will not and cannot
Bring us down,
And if we can't fall,
The only option is
Flying,
With you,
With me.
Fly with me.

"Please,"
I'll slur to you sleepily,
"Stay right up here with me,"
Just stay right up here with me,
Fly with me,

And we'll be immune,
Here and now,
To gravity.

If I had to choose
Between the green of the grass
And the blue of the sky
I'd choose whatever
Caused that glint in your eye.

Because the blue of the sky
Does not know my intentions
Behind words so bold
Such as "I wonder
If I want to grow old?"

I was so obsessed
In not becoming
Another bad memory
For you,
I had not realized
You had become
A nightmare of a memory
For me.

And as I recall
Good times and great times,
I am sad to say
That in the relay
They have been tainted
By the bitter black of your rage.

So congrats,
My dear,
You moved on barely a week
After you left me
Seemingly broken
And seemingly undone,
With nothing to my name
But the sandals on my feet.

But interestingly
Enough
I do not care.

I hope your new flame
Is good to you,
Beady eyes
And all.

And I hope that you are good to her,
Toxic rage,
Volatile guilt trips,
Cruel fists
And all.

For I found that,
Just as before,
I have always preferred
The green of life and living,
And the orange of the sunset
So much beyond
The simple blue
Of the broken shell
Of a robin that never got a chance
To be more than an egg.

I hate the storm of your eyes,
But I no longer fear storms.

Why, you may ask?

Call me Storm Siren.

Maybe you'll understand then.

Can't think
If I think I'll think too much
Can't speak
I have nothing worthwhile to say.

Think before you speak
I've always taken that to heart
Be careful what you seek,
It may just tear you apart.

And I can write
As many things as I'd like,
Flutter about just like a bird
Getting the hang of flying
(which is basically the case).

I can't sing
To save my life
But if I could breathe life
Into the coldest depths
Of this grey sky,
I'd be a little more proud
A little more able.

But what constitutes as life,
And what constitutes as death?
Is life a part of death,
Or death a part of life?

And people always say
That love isn't the most important thing
About life,
But that's so far
From the only truth I know.

Because everything we do
That's good
And everything we do
That's bad
Is out of love.
For ourselves, or those we must protect.

Whether it be platonic or romantic
Selfish or selfless,
Love is the reason,
Love is the cause.
Whether it be from an abundance
Or a lack there of.

My days are filled with color,
And my eyes are filled with stars.
If only you could see the gold within my darkness,
I could find the fire burning bright within your eyes.

No one is chasing you,
But no one is looking to you.

Please love anyway.
Because if you get a say,
We will need you
To light the day.

Who are you,
When no one is around?
Who are you when they're lost?
Who were you when you're found?

Lost, lurking in the shadows,
"We won't back down,"
You grasp their thread tight,
"We can't go down without a fight."

Did anyone
Ever let you believe
That you should be
Loved unconditionally?

Your eyes reflect the sunrise,
Which leads me to surmise
That this was disguised--
That this never felt right.

Yet here you are
Standing so tall
While you bear
The weight of it all
On shoulders so brittle,
On shoulders so small.

You keep moving,
There's no way you're losing.
You'll give it your all,
You'll never stay where you fall.

You reach up towards
Every hope
You're fighting for.
You stretch yourself so far,
Just to comfort the stars.

You hold light within your palms,
If you love one
Then you have it all,
Because love without faith
Is just emotional withdrawl.

You're the hope
That has me reaching,
The love that has me preaching,
And every promise
I intend on keeping.

Because the world keeps sleeping
When support is what you're needing.
So the lights fade low,
You ask yourself
"Where did the time go?"

But don't you already know?
You have length to show,
No strength in rows.

You count the hours,
You call the crows.
So grab your shadow,
Replace your ammo.

You know what to do,
You've got something to prove.
You give it all you've got,
Because you got a lot to lose.

Humans are stupid
Foolish creatures.

We destroy in order to create,
And we create to live vicariously,
And ultimately to destroy.

But there are some good things,
Some good parts,
To us.

Some of us care too much,
Love too much,
Want to help
Just a little too much.

And we end up
Destroying ourselves
But we love with everything we are,
So we give with everything we are
And we can only hope
To actually be the good
We want to see in the world.

There is a light within our eyes
That is only seen in the darkest of nights,
And it guides us home,
It guides us home.

I want to be the good
That they want to see in the world,
If not for me
Then for everyone after me.

And there is a light in our eyes,
That is only seen in the darkest of nights.
And it guides us home,
It guides us home.

It feels like being swallowed whole by the ocean,
Except the ocean is made of sand and mulch.

It's when I feel like I'm falling apart,
And my subconscious won't let you reach me.

It's when I just don't know what's wrong,
So I'd rather tell you nothing is,
So you stop trying to fix it.

But I feel myself falling apart,
And all I want is to be more
Put together
For you.

But guilt wears me thin,
It keeps going at me
Long after I've given up.

I'm just not okay.

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.

I'm so sick
Of rhyming
And timing
And each time I would flinch,
As you got closer
Inch
By
Inch.

Hashtag!
Maybe he didn't hit you,
But he didn't care that someone else did.

Hashtag!
Maybe he didn't hit you
But he left you in the street,
With nothing but the clothes on your back,
And the shoes on your feet!

And I have
Nothing to say to you,
Except that I hope divine intervention
Comes through.

You are the monster
You were always scared to be,
Because while you were off falling for other girls,
You were damaging me.

But I am whole,
Gladly without you.
Cut off the infection,
Let myself grow new.

Hashtag!
He didn't hit me,
But his words and stance
Could have destroyed me.

I'm so sick,
Of rhyming
And timing,
And each time I would flinch,
The closer you got,
Inch by inch.

You're a monster,
But I don't believe in you,
You're a disease,
But darling, I'm immune.

In my dreams
I'm haunted by my mistakes
And what I have done
Or what has been done to me.

I am haunted by your voice,
Coming to me and telling me
That you worry and you're scared.
And it confuses me,
Because I know you know
That's not how I work.

I am haunted by vivid memories
Of storms and shades of vicious purple and grey.

I am haunted by gore
And people being burned.
Things I have no reason
To feel as though they are real.

And yet even in my dreams
I can feel the aching and stinging
Heat of the flames.

I could not
Stop crying this morning.

I hate when people claim their listening,
And just fire back with hostility,
And when I jump to my own defense
(Because let's face it, who else will?)
I'm rude and awful and "went too far",

When claiming you're making this into
"Pain Olympics."
That's what you're doing, though.
My pain is no greater than yours,
As your pain is no greater than mine.

You have not experienced my life,
If we're going to talk about hardship,
I'll match you step for step.
Recalling painful memories
Is something I'm much too good at.

Do not nudge me and **** me
To play this game with you,
I win every time,
I have a trump card
That unsettles you
And makes you nauseous.

I know because
It sends me into hyperventilation
And vomiting
When I recall too many details.

And my head
Hurts so bad from all the tears I spilled
Today,
Trying to prevent myself from
Using my trump card just to get you to shut the hell up,
Because I'm better than this,
Better than that,
Sadly,
Better than you.

And then she goes after me,
As though his berating of my mental health
Wasn't enough.

She degrades me,
My turn-of-phrase's,
My work ethic,
Me.

I point out that she didn't have to get involved,
But that if she is going to she might as well be objective,
And look at both sides.

But what do I know?

There's nothing to know.

I forgot how controlling you are,
How necessary you find my shutting my mouth,
Being a lady,
Listening to everyone else,
No thoughts of my own.

I mean, ****,
You were the reason I dyed my hair blonde
(Like every other bile spewing brat on the play ground)
When I was a kid.

I was so relieved
When you let me dye it red,
And then black.

Right now this isn't about you
"Letting" me.
I'm an adult.
Stop forgetting that.

I am an adult,
But this being the bigger person
Thing
Is just a headache.

Keep the crazy at bay,
There's not much to keep thinking highly of,
But keep your insanity
Contained
To the best of your
Ability.

I want so badly to be
As honest as I can be,
But I can't be
Because then you'll see
The real me.

I trust you entirely,
So I trust you not to run
Like the rest of them,
But I can't do that to you.

Because everyone runs.
And I can't lose you in the same way,
I can't stand the thought of losing you,
But everyone runs,
Everyone runs
Away.

Everyone goes away,
Everyone leaves
And this lump in my throat,
Won't help me plead
For you to stay,
But what's it worth?

But you say you're not going anywhere,
And I have to accept that you mean it.
But will you mean it,
Will this time be different,
If I let you see all of me?

I hate being vulnerable,
Because

Everyone runs in the end
From monsters like me,
And it hurts my heart
But who in hell cares,
Because monsters sure don't,
Because I sure don't.

(Let me tell you,
I care more than you think.)

I hope you bleed.
I hope you cry.
I hope you scream,
Beggin' your god
"Whyyy, ohh why?"

I hope you see.
I hope you hide.
Remember me
As the bad guy.

I hope you keep
It together,
Long enough
To remember.

I hope you peek
In all the books
They tell you not to.

I hope they reap
Your pride.
But not all that truth
Ya' got inside.

I hope you know
This world don't matter.
So if you got a light,
You gotta let it show.
Let it show,
Let it show,
You gotta
Let that heart glow.

If ya' got a light,
If ya' got a light,
If ya' got a light,
Ya' gotta
Let that heart glow.

You will bleed.
You will know.
It will hurt,
But you gotta
Just
Let the scars grow.

You will see
Others lie.
You'll never really
Get why.
It's the worst,
Trust me, I know.

But ya' gotta just
Let 'em go.

Let them go,
Let them go,
Let them go.

Ya' gotta just
Let that hurt go.

You've got that light,
I know y'know.
So you gotta fight,
Ya' got places to go.

So go,
So go,
Ya' gotta just
Get up and go.

So go,
So go,
Ya' gotta just
Let that heart glow.

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.

Paper is light,
But man,
Is ink heavy.

And words
Pooled in ink
Weigh me down,
All one hundred and twenty five
Pounds.

And the paper is light enough
To pull me up,
All the way
To five feet
And one inches.

I am an outline,
Not even the rough draft,
Becoming something greater,
But not quite far enough
To be anything quite worth saving.

My book of life
Has been opened by a few,
And left out in the rain by many.
Pick and choose
Pick and choose
The chapters and quotes and snippets
You want to keep
And leave my pages out
To have the ink bleed out.

But you come along,
And you've come along before,
Helping with a few chapters of this book,
And but suddenly you're here,
And you've come along with smiles
And light
And hope
And I don't doubt any part of you,
And I know your intentions
Are to stay.

I might only be some outlines,
But this ink is heavy on this paper,
And I hope you appreciate
My binding.

Missing you
Is like having a headache that's almost gone.
It still hurts a whole lot,
But you're so close to relief
That it's driving you insane,
And probably perpetuating the headache more.

And loving you
Is like finally being able to breathe.
Loving you
Is like coming in from standing out
In a blizzard half naked,
And being wrapped in blankets and warmth.
Loving you
Is feeling safe
After years of being afraid.

And missing you
Is like the inability to sleep
After being awake for more than twenty four hours.

It's waking up from a nightmare,
Panicked and afraid it might be real.

But loving you is knowing it isn't,
It's knowing it'll be better in the morning.

I spent all day
Crying
Or cleaning.

I know I'm technically sick,
But the guilt I feel
Doesn't want to leave my side.

I wish you were here instead.

I'm floundering
Here in darkness.

I aspire to be perfect.
But I'll never reach it.

You used to call me perfect,
And I knew then too
That it was just a syrupy sweet lie,
Whether you knew it or not.
It was comforting nonetheless.

I burnt myself making dinner again.

This time it was my arm, not my hand.

I want to be better.
I have to be better.

I know I have to be patient,
But it hurts me when I see that sliver
Of... whatever it is, in your eyes.

Maybe it's disappointment.
Maybe it's fear.

I know I have to get worse before I get better,

But I don't want to lose you.

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.

He'll destroy you.
Take everything good about you
And rip it down into a skeleton.

I hope you realize
He'll take everything you're confident about
And burn it to the ground.
I hope you realize
He'll use you
As a coping skill.

I hope you realize
He'll move on from you
Rather quickly
Once it's over.

Because it will be over
Rather quickly.
Because men like him
Don't actually want
Things that last,
No,
They want their ego stroked
And the moment you tell them
They're wrong
The monster returns again.

"I haven't been this angry since I was eighteen."
*******.

You just can't stand
Being told you're wrong
Being told you're hurtful
Being told you're not perfect.

He'll hurt you,
And then you'll be left broken-feeling.

But darling you won't be,
You won't be broken.
Men like him
Don't have the power to break you.

Be ready and be prepared.
He cannot break you.

You might be blissful now.
But know that he'll subconsciously try to destroy you.

Keep an ear out
It'll hurt,
But you're strong enough.
I have faith
You'll be okay.

He'll rip you apart,
But you can find those pieces
And put them back better than before.

He's not worth your time,
But maybe you're like how I was.
Foolish, naive, hopeful,
And a little too kind.

You are young,
So it does happen.

Good luck to you,
Child.
Good luck.

You will need it,
For the road you have chosen
Is a road that leads to your own pain.

I am sending you
Prayers.

You will need them.

Also don't flinch.
It only makes him worse.

I should have known this was going to happen.

(Because this is what always happens.)

I fall for you. You fall for me. I try to keep myself from getting too attached. You knock down all my walls. I try to warn you (before it's too late) that this is going to happen. I tell you to leave before it's too late. But it's already too late. Because you become attached and I seem like I'm so good, and so willing, and so very desperate to be loved. But I am only one of those things. So I seem like a great option. A great prospect. Trust me, you aren't the first boy who has wanted to marry me in such a short amount of time.

(But you are the only one who actually did.)

But sooner or later, it starts to happen. I start to feel you drifting. I start to feel you pull away. And maybe I'm just imagining things, but then I start to withdraw. I pull away. I try to pull away from you as far as you will let me go.

Because, y'know, I run. That's what I do.

But for some reason, with you, I will only go as far as you are willing to chase me.

I guess it's because some part of me believed you. Some part of me believed that this time was different. That this time, I would have enough love to give to make someone stay. To make you stay.

But I am a hypocrite. Because I believed that you would stay when I have never known how to do that myself. At the very least, though, I am learning, slowly. Because you have taught me.

And even if I was right, and even if I can feel you slipping away like how it feels when you pick up a fist-full of sand, I want you to know that I still believe.

I still believe in this. In you. In us.

And even if I should have known this would happen, it still might not happen.

And even if this is always happens, I still fell for you.
, and that is reason enough to believe.

It's been a pretty long while, huh?

I don't know how long it's been since either of us have checked in here.

And I don't know how long it's going be until you check back in again. I'll probably pick up writing again, though, probably very soon.

You and the guys are talking about King's and how most of them had women on the side other than their wives (something I just overheard)

I've heard you complain
All night
About wanting another girl
When you slipped a ring onto my finger.

I heard you thank them for cheering you up,
When you told me nothing was wrong.
I'm so glad they cheered you up.
I'm so glad someone finally cheered you up.

His name isn't important,
Rather it's more of of the way it feels on your tongue,
Whether you're spitting it back at him,
Or swallowing it along with your pride,
When asking for help.

His name isn't important,
Rather it's more of the way it feels on your lips
When they're pulled back into a grin
Or are pursed into a pout.

His name isn't important,
No, it's more of the way it feels in your throat,
A raw sensation on your vocal chords,
When you scream it within a dream,
Terrified of losing him.
Or just as raw, but a thousand times more euphoric
When it's pitched into a moan.

His name isn't important.
No, it isn't.
It's the way your face flushes when you hear his voice,
Or the way your stomach jumps into giddy butterflies when he's coming home,
Or the way your heart frenzies and then settles into a rhythmic beat when he lays his head on your chest.
It's the way he holds you
When you get too bad,
When you didn't mean it,
When you don't know how it happened,
When you just don't remember but it stings,
So he helps you clean yourself off,
He helps you clean it off,
And helps bandage you up
Before you go to bed.

It's the way he doesn't hate you for it.

His name isn't important,
Rather, it's the way he makes you feel like you're flying, and that the air is your home.
It's the way he turns the fan down and the heater on before he leaves, so you don't get cold without him there.
It's the way he eats what you cook, and doesn't tell you it's bad when it's bad, unless you bring it up first.
It's the way you notice the little things about him, like the way he holds you tight before he gets up in the morning,
Or the way he wraps his arms around you,
Or holds your hand
Or brushes the hair out of your face because he wants to see your eyes
Or just the way his silhouette against his colors strikes your heart,
The way his eyes pierce into your very soul.

It's the way you feel like you have to protect him too,
Just like he protects you,
Because he gets defensive when he explains that he wants to do something,
And relaxes when you explain to him that it's okay, of course he can do the thing he wants to do, you would never stop him from doing anything he wants, as long as it doesn't hurt him.
It's the way the worry in his eyes isn't judgmental, instead it's kind and warm and somewhat achy in your bones, like the flu. But it doesn't make your heart drop, like when he gives you bad news.

His name isn't important,
No, it's the way he wants to care for you,
The way he has trouble articulating how he feels about you
Because he's not the poet, you are.
The way he tries to show it through adverbs and actions,
And you notice it occasionally.
It's the way it still feels surreal
That he cares to the extent that he does.

His name isn't important,
No, not at all.
But rather, it's the fact
That it's his.

Type and type
Until my finger tips bleed
And write and write
Until the blisters sting.

Home isn't a place
Where to lay your head down,
Because places have  a tendency
To much like bridges,
Burn to the ground.

And beat your head against the wall,
Over and over
Because of that nagging feeling
In the back of your head
"Not good enough"
Eats away at the parts of you
You considered dead.

But it's getting later,
And you're not getting younger.
But who the hell cares,
I, being the general "you" I mentioned earlier, would wait an eternity to be by your side.

I'm flying away from my troubles.
From the pain,
From the wounds of my past.
And though I'm by your side,
There are plenty of scars along my skin.

And I hope you don't mind,
But I'm a little strange away from home.

But home isn't a place,
It's where my heart is,
And my heart happens to beat
Alongside yours.

No, I'm afraid home isn't a place,
Rather,
It's a heartbeat.

You've seemed to find a way
To shift and slip into the cracks and crevices
And empty spaces
And open wounds
All over me,
So now you can see me,
Not as the overly enthusiastic
Spastic
Friendly, self deprecating front.

You can see whatever small,
Injured,
Slowly healing
Shaky on her feet,
Too shaky to fly
Bird that's inside me.

And I'm so scared,
Because what if that's not what you wanted or came for?
And still.
Even still.
No bone in my body doubts you,
There's not one sinking feeling.

Only fear that I might be taking this all wrong,
And that's on me.

There's a song I used to write to.
Iridescent.
When things got bad, I used to write to that song,
Just everything until it stopped.
Until I stopped.
It's my coping song.
I was able to stop buying bandages after I started doing that.

Sometimes I'd only listen to half the song.
Sometimes I'd have it on repeat for hours.
Sometimes the typing and clacking of my fingers would drown out the music.

Sometimes the lyrics would drown everything else,
And I'd just lay there,
Rubbing the anxiety and overwhelming urge to disappear
Out of my wrists.

I'm listening to it now.
But really listening to it.
Mainly because the song that makes me think of you
Come onto autoplay
Three songs after this one.

I'm afraid. I'm afraid to be wrong.
I'm afraid to open up.
I'm afraid.
But trying to open up
Isn't so bad
When you're already rooted so deeply inside me.

And it terrifies me,
But I like it.
Not the fear, no, that's dumb.
The fact that when you lay your head on my chest,
I'm nervous,
And my heart speeds up,
But being in your arms
Is the closest to heaven I've ever been.

And there are parts of me I don't want
You to see or know about
But you haven't run off yet,
And I doubt you really will.