Just write about writing about having nothing to write about.

this is a tale
of two star-crossed lovers
with a love so powerful
they tainted the heavens
with bursts of colours

they were never meant to be;
mischievous little kids
finding love in sinful glee
in laughter, between dreams and reality

and though it was lawless,
they found solace
because in every prison,
they found a rhyme and a reason

but even for a love so great,
they could not escape
the fates’ wrath and envy

destiny pulled on their threads
cut them loose, thrusted them into misery;
for their memories were wiped clean,
but feelings remained as strong as they had ever been

the boy exiled in a far off land
across the pacific sea
the girl trapped in her need to break free
in a realm both boring and bland

ensnared in a labyrinth of woe
the lovers yearned for anything—
for something, for someone,
to obliterate this endless longing

the gods answered them
in the form of two loved ones
polished in every edge,
a perfect someone

but perfect felt too perfect
and not perfect enough
to fill up the hole
left by a perfectly imperfect

until one day the gods whispered
for the winds to push the two
and the birds to tug at their sleeves
over mountain and sea
even through the darkest valley
so their paths would finally meet

and so they did.

in the flurry of a moment
a pair of brown eyes met
and time was frozen
once more

the two stared intently
as if remembering a broken melody
a lost childhood song
branded as a wrong

the birds fluttered and flew
taking the cursed red fibre
snipped them in two
and the lovers felt all the lighter

it was the girl who spoke first:
“**** the stars.
i don’t want perfect,
i want you.”

eyes dazzling, the boy nodded:
“we’ll invert the universe—
the night sky a blank white
the stars pitch black
the earth moving in reverse”

the fates saw and surrendered
as the stars began to wither
for this love is love
in all its splendor

so the lovers walked away with a promise
under their breaths, they both swore:
“i lost you once,
but nevermore.”

The yellow sickle moon
is hay in the barn, the way
that youth is exuberant
and death is wise.
The dogwood is a tree
full of butterflies -
so life strikes,
then death strikes.
In the calendar of life, fall
just a handful of holidays
perfect for the making of love.

a tan couch in the middle of a messy college apartment
the tv starts playing arrested development

episode one
two hearts joined by two hands
under a tan couch pillow
no glances
a small secret
another separate heart beats on a separate chair

episode two
one of the joined hearts falls asleep
in the other's lap
at first, fake, to be closer
then real, but conscious
two hearts still connected by touch

episode three
the tv stops playing
the sleeping heart awakes
the separate heart leaves
it's just the two

they wait
one heart had been waiting for a moment like this
the other didn't know it was waiting too
as if a connection strengthened through feeling
was growing in its subconscious for days

several minutes pass
it's quiet
the hands still held under the pillow
the waiting heart turns
the subconscious heart turns

the moment
they stare into each other's eyes
straight into their souls
that look
the greatest look both hearts can know
a pause
a rush
they lean in

two days from a year
and it's still one of my favourite memories
i'll never forget that look
that face
before we leaned in

two hearts are no longer joined
here, almost a year off from that night
four months since the hearts separated
this rain pours like my soul through the cracks of my heart

we sit in the backseat
of his parked car
on the edge
of something close to a revelation
the night sky is hidden
something like a secret
and we are cloaked in darkness
but next to him i swear i can feel the stars
i tell him this feels like my favorite song
something i heard once and will never forget
he kisses me and my heart beats so fast
it slows down time
this is everything
and we both know it
he asks: why didn’t you tell me?
i open my eyes
and then
i’m awake
cold sweat
alone in my bed
he’s gone before i get to tell him:
i always thought you knew

Before the illness descended on my brain
I never felt particularly insane

Eating disorders are not all about wanting to be thin
The pain is much deeper and emerges from within

Your self concept is shattered.

I don't think others understand
What it takes to recover, to escape quicksand.

Eating disorder thoughts are rotten and cruel
They convince you that you are a complete fool

They spit negativity into your head
You believe your thoughts, tears are shed.

Your appearance in the mirror you continue to hate
Vile thoughts continue to berate

Try living with that constant dread
Like walking around with a boulder on your head

At some points wishing you'd be better off

...

Recovery.

Congrats! You've gained weight!
Your physical health has returned, look at that heart rate.

But I gained more than I wanted to gain.
My mind is spinning, the thoughts are insane.

My mind is battling a war each day.
As I try to go to school, be a human, be okay.

The strength and will to do that is intense.
To live with your mind continually on a fence.

To have restriction sit in the back of your mind.
As you try to keep up with school and not get behind.

It is not a choice.
The voice.
Is not a choice.

But recovery is.

To try to live how I want to live.

If you come across someone battling this fight
Commend them on their courage and might.

Be their support.
Even though you may not understand.
Lend a listening ear or a helping hand.

Be the difference in their day.
Help stop their thought spiral, remind them they're okay

Anything you say
Makes a difference.
Acceptance
Love
Care
Makes a difference

Love and care will fuel their fight
To know their thoughts are not right.

Within my soul I’ve found yours
Are they different?
They are one, they are one with the cosmos,
But our sub souls have a strong gravity acting on them,
A gravity unexplained by science,
A gravity we’ve chosen to name love,
Scientifically oxytocin creates this feeling, but oxytocin is a by product of this very gravity,
What we choose to believe is up to us
The sky is blue
Love is the fifth dimension
A day will come, far far away,
A collective surge of this gravity,
Will pull all creatures together,
There will be no anti love - no hunger no wars,
This dimension we only experienced in parts,
Will save us from our own destruction

i used to dream in black and white,
grays blending together the scenes that
spin spin spin
until i can't differentiate black from white.
i dreamt about shriveling flowers and endless hallways
and never being able to scream;
and then i met you.
suddenly i was dreaming in color,
a luxury i thought would never come to fruition,
flowers popping and life breathed back into trees.
i never knew how beautiful it was to have someone hold you at 3am,
to kiss your bruises and tell you your scars are angelic
even though the way you acquired them isn't.
i never knew how beautiful it was
to dream in color.

my thoughts are fatalistic
the inevitable dawning
on a driver skidding off a cliff
with a sinking feeling.
my mind paints with blood
the cuts that would sting
and sing
with a power releasing.
my crazy is a particular
type, the dark one
the hidden in the night
and never talked about one.
why scare people with reality?
why tear apart the pretty games
and smiles
with pain that can't be tamed?
so no one hears the thoughts
and the crazy bubbles up
comes out
in some imaginative ****-up.

i wake up
and feel the noble touch
of the morning
and the innocence
in her breath

she tells me that an unborn day of magic awaits

and so i lie with her, listening

yesterday is lost
and i am yet to come