I was always fascinated by echoes,
Even long before I understood them.
To call out for help, and finally have someone respond,
Now that was a miracle in my naive eyes.

When I got older I traveled more.
I explored new places with hills and valleys.
The echos stayed constant, they always responded.
The echos brought me false comfort, and I thought they would keep me alive.

Now I have led myself into a cave.
The echoes are louder here, yes,
But they do not bring me comfort as the once did,
The echoes leave me as cavernous as the place I stood.

A droplet of water falls from the ceiling as a tear runs down my face.
Boulders fall as I collapse in on myself.
Because as I stood there listening for echoes,
I realized I would rather hear your voice instead.

I packed my clothes
And cigarettes
I'm moving to the South.
I always romanticized the North East,
And North West but the middle seemed draining and sure, I'm scared. I'm bound by my youth here and I have this exaggerated passion to travel I decorate for the sake of feeling adventurous but I'm actually comfortable with my feet in concrete boots, climbing back to you. You asked if I'm happy and said that it's sad that I'm leaving, we have so many memories. I felt the same way a year ago with you so I said I didn't know if I was. I don't know if waking up every day past noon to down a pill just to leave the room is happy but I know I'll live three miles from the Atlantic ocean, from pink sand in three weeks and you know I always romanticized the way nature could heal a shattered soul, so I'll go.

I hate that you asked me if I'm happy right before I go, I hate that I'm over you but that still make my insides coagulate and tear apart my stomach lining, I hate that I'm lying about why I'm leaving.

I said I'm starting over but I just have some things I haven't let go of, and I can't. So I'm running from them instead. I'll live on the beach. You won't pop up in the coffee shops I pretend to like dark roast in. I won't see your face in public when you aren't really there. It's unfair that I don't know how to go anywhere but towards another person but I'm hoping those morning beach walks might teach me how to go towards something scary instead of something safe. Maybe happiness isn't safety, maybe when you said you missed me that pain in my stomach was irony because a year ago I collapsed in class on a white tile floor when you said you'd never love me the same and now I'm leaving behind white walls and a white door I never painted because I never picked a color that made me happy.

i don't know what it is about me
as i said: I don't quite understand me yet
it's odd, everyone sees something
I see nothing.
I see,
I am looking into this mirror
..an abyss
...empty, cold, untouched
:in a perfect world, I just described myself perfectly.

Let the whole world go to
Bits of narcissistic appraisals
Thumbs ups and shares
Plenty followers to
Cover up a sense of isolation
They wish would fill the hole that
Seems too scary to explore
And I...
I just can't stop looking into it
Each and every day
And it fills me with
Dread, mystery and light
Of some other kind
That only monks see well
I was never like them
But always wished to find
That place I would
Finally belong to  
Somewhere at the edge
Of a morning leaf
Where dew drop
Is about to fall