It was December 2, and the sun fell early on that cold, dark, night. The kitten purred at my door and the soft meow sounded as though the snow was slowly flowing beneath my bare feet. Outside I sat waiting for something to come from the stars, maybe a shooting star or a beam of light calling me to the darkness that was soon to come after the stars finished their game of hide and seek. I sat playing hide and seek with my thoughts, hiding all the feelings I once felt from his warm touch as the weather grew colder in late November. I was ridden to my bed, in sullen darkness where nothing but a porch light peaked through my stained curtains. I was stuck playing hide and seek where no one ever found me hiding beneath my bed, away from all the demons and monsters that called me into the night.

You are the sunshine that lingers in my room when I feel so dark and lonely. You peek through my curtains blinding me with idea that I can get out of bed and nestle in blooming flowers and sprouting trees. Spring is coming you whisper to me but my mind is foggy, filled with thoughts of losing my self and trying to find myself again. You are the bird that chirps outside my window reminding me of the new day and the sunshine you are soon to bring in. You were the light of my life until you left leaving me lonely with little bird song to be sung and little sunshine to be felt.

You watch the sheets fall softly over her perfect body. You thought she looked beautiful. You ceresed her cheek and watched her hair fall over her shoulders. You thought she was soft. You gazed at her body when she danced in the mirror in the mornings.
You couldn’t help but be in love. But, you didn’t know that on the inside she was hurting. She was put together and perfect from the outside but on the inside she was broken and wondering.
She was wondering if she was good enough to be yours all along. You never told her, you always just assumed. She cried herself to sleep at night and worried for hours on end. You never asked her how she was doing. Her smile made her seem like she was doing alright.
- You never asked

And he talked as if when morning came the sun would no longer shine. The way he talked about life and everything in it made the stars twinkle in perfect moonlight. The way he spoke of the things he loved like they were childhoood dreams come true made my heart dance like a ballerina through the mountains of endless hopes and dreams. And on this night my wish came true, my wish came true that I would meet someone just like you, with a mind so freeing... so beautiful.

Every evening it used to be this way. We’d take our usual drive through the summer streets. Trees in full bloom, brick houses lined with flowers, it was picture perfect. But, When we’d go home at night id realize. I’d realize what a broken home really looked like and who the people in it would be. I’d have dreams of big houses and stone cobbled steps. I’d have dreams of a reality that would never be. My tears didn’t drown out my thoughts. It was like my heart had been broken by love again except this time, it was something I couldn’t fight for - I came to the realization

I’m jealous of those who fall asleep dreaming of warm tea and sunflowers while I lie awake at night fighting my demons till half-past two. My days are stolen from me by the exhaustion that weighs me and my eyelids down. They are too heavy for me to carry but I’m too tired to care. I have nightmares in my daydreams just thinking about the demons I will battle through the night. What happens when I lose?

It was the middle of August and I felt a little more free. I felt the breeze blow through my hair as I tried to touch Jupiter with my pinky toe while gazing at the stars. The moon was big and the bees were still buzzing and I felt so free. I felt as if I’d been whisked away by the sunflowers growing slowly but more and more each day. Take me away.

It’s not just another rainy, Sunday, afternoon. Walkers don’t just walk by, umbrellas waiting to catch the tiny droplets of rain dripping down window panes. The sun doesn’t shine just because it has to but because it’s your birthday. It’s not just another day or another year but another year you’ve lived, loved, cried, and most of all began a new chapter in your life. It is your birthday and not just because the calendar says so but because you lived to deserve it. May your pillow lay gently upon your bed and may your head rest lightly upon the feathers. It is your birthday and all because you deserve it.

There is something about the way we danced along the sidewalk that August night that kept me coming back for more. The way she waved at passing cars and pet kittens so small, atop windowsill's and perched on steps only revealed a tiny bit of her love for animals. The way she smiled at the mailman on 78th street and the way she dreamt of things so big- so beautiful made me realize I had been missing out all along. There was something about her need for adventure that made everything a thrill. Her imagination was so pure. I go home at night lonely only wishing I could be like her. I wish I could sleep only a few hours but feel good as new day by day. I can only wish I’d asked for the boy on the subways name. Something about how she rambled on saying books were her favorite thing made me wish I could be just like her...

I am from yellow houses. The ones with green shutters and vines growing along the sides. I am from rainy weather with umbrellas too big to hold in my small, weary, hands. I am what I am. I am unloveable and complex but loved and solved at the same time. I am an open book but one that remains closed until someone comes along and opens me, reading each page, some colorful and others just blank. I am a story worth telling and an experience worth sharing, some good, others not so much. I am from sunflowers and freshly cut grass. I am a blank page but I can easily be marked. I am what I am. I am from linen sheets and warm laundry. I hope to be less of a burden than I am. The youngest child, the one parents hope turn out alright. I am from tears and broken hearts. But I am also from sunshine and glasses half full. I am artwork that hangs on walls and painted in murals, ones you can’t glance at just once. I am from cold winters and warm homes during them. I am what I am. I am from clothing too big to fit my tiny body and fresh apples too small to fill my empty stomach. I am what I am.

It was three am and, we were still up talking- laughing at inappropriate jokes with tired voices and sleep blending into the whites of our eyes like paint being mixed before an artist creates her masterpiece. By the window, I sat, staring at the moon and it’s perfect figure, so round and complex with ridges only where meant to be. My mind was searching like a lost child for an answer to my happiness, my mind was searching for a reason to be unhappy, but each time it would fail then try again. By the fifth time searching, I finally realized that this was what it was like to be ok. This was how it felt to be living for more than sleep at night and empty rooms. This is what it feels like when the stars are aligned, and everything is still. Tonight the moon asked me how I was feeling and for the first time in forever I said I was doing quite alright.

And I hated myself for missing you. I hated the way the bottle of pills whispered your name reminding me of the time we climbed steep mountains and dove deep in Great Lakes. The pills stroked your gentle brown hair as the tears flooded my face with an overbearing sense of doubt but also forgiveness. How could I miss you? But the pills told me the answer to that one too, they reminded me of your deep blue eyes that looked as though not a single rock lay beneath the ocean- so pure. The pills sang the songs we sang just a little off key and laughed at the jokes only we knew. They told me of the memories I would never forget when I stepped into the woods where our names were carved in that tree. They never let me forget all the time we spent together or the places we once knew...

Soon I realized that nothing comes easy with love. Sometimes we aren’t always meant to be no matter how hard we try and other times we didn’t try hard enough. Sometimes we fall into love and then we fall out of it the same way we came in, crashing hard, burning, hurting, pain. I wish I could believe that love was an easy thing, I wish I could believe we’d meet again at a coffee shop in thirty years with lives of our own and realize we should have been together all along. I guess I’m wishing for a false reality that you only see on the big screen, you only read in fairytale stories. For those afraid of love I understand why, I understand that the one who told you she loved you the most and promised to never leave was the one who left you bare and cold and freezing on that December night. She left you on your doorstep, the same place you met, the same place she told you she wanted to stay. She wanted to stay but she’s up and left and all that’s left of her is her scent and those memories. Love is gone. Love is lost. You are lost.

And each day I was told it would get better. In worn shoes I would walk the long route to school, and dream of all the things I would do. Autumn leaves danced at my feet and the kids on sixteenth street shouted fall songs. I was a lonely kid with a journal and hopes for things my mother always told me I could achieve. I was told to do great things but I was told only the lucky ones make it far enough to see the stars lining up at their feet. I went home on cold nights and sat at my window in search of someone just as lonely as me and I found it in the sky shining down on me. The loneliest star once told me so, I could make it far and before I’d know, it would only get better from here.

I want honey and fresh roses at my doorstep but only from you. Is it wrong that I don’t want to be loved by anyone but you? I’m afraid I’ll get hurt again because the last boy with curly brown hair left me in the dirt for me to swallow pain meds and anxiety pills just to make it through. I'm sorry if I’ll never again be able to open up to love again as I did with him, I don’t want you to turn into a stranger who holds my darkest secrets. I want you to love me like rainbows after a storm and soft kittens cuddling up to say goodnight. I want you to love me. Love me.

I read a book the other day, it was one about all the things I couldn’t say. It spoke to me with words I’d intended to reach from deep within, grasping stories of betrayal and heartbreak but also ones of roses and kittens purring at my door. I read a book the other day, just on the corner of Main Street in a lonely market where people didn’t speak but they felt a connection anyway. We stared at each other from across the way feeling the same emotions but not saying so, just on the corner of main. I want to say these words, ones of healing and ones that bring others strength. I will return to the market soon to finally say the words I’ve always meant to say.

And when the time comes my tears won't be falling like rain for it will be warm tea and fresh honey streaming down my cheeks.
I hope one day I will bathe in sunflowers and new love - I'm tired of the dead leaves that burden my body, they soak in like fresh coconut on my skin.
I sit underwater where time stops for a second, and I am at peace. I hope one day I can run into rushing waterfalls without begging for that moment of altered reality. I hope one day I bathe in roses instead of my sorrows.

Today was a much better day than yesterday. Today brought new rains washing away yesterday's sins. The rain washed away my tears that dripped along 17th streets corner slowly, flowing, gone. This morning was easier to rise from beneath the covers, the morning's before I didn’t want to face the sun. I drank tea this afternoon and I read a book, something I hadn't done in awhile, and for a few hours I felt at peace. Finally, at peace.

Sometimes I feel like the wrinkled laundry that no one cares to fold or even dares to walk past in worry they may feel pressured to just get the job done. I feel as though I am something you may avoid reading too deeply into for you will get caught in the waterfall of my tears and be ****** slowly beneath the raging waters of hope but self doubt. The paper bag blowing in  the wind could be seen as more important than I for some times they don’t even hear my footsteps or see my shadow lurking through the dark hallways to meet the fridge, rather lonely from my days of not eating, but it greets me anyway, happy to see I’ve picked up a grape and smoothed it’s skin over my teeth and bitten into it hard but softly because it’s only a grape.   But she’s only a girl, she’s only a girl with a journal and a poetry book don’t worry much. I hear them talk about me and whisper through walls empty because my childhood photos are gone for I don’t want to remember the past me. I can hear them clenching their jaws as the sound of my weeping fills the shallows of the  home.  I can feel their worry about the  paper bag in the wind and the crumpled flower on my windowsill.