It's more
than a shake
when my
hand
forgets
to
let
go

The story
writes
the writer

Sometimes the thoughts threaten to haunt parts of me that have seen the sun in all its glory
Sometimes the thoughts threaten to hang me
Sometimes the thoughts question the love I have for my body, and all I’m left with are a couple of hmm’s and Ahh’s that don’t put much of the broken, I feel, together.
Sometimes I want to hand my heart out to strangers,
Hoping they’d love me far better than any of you ever could
Sometimes the world scares me and it takes great courage for me not to hide behind closed doors
Sometimes I want to speak poetry that breaks hearts and fuels the ache
But I’m usually left with a couple of words like,
“I’m sorry I have nothing to write,
I gave you all the words that formed my body, and now I am nonexistent.”
Sometimes the thorns wrapped around my heart force blood out of my mouth and it takes me awhile to remind myself that I don’t have to drown in my own sorrows
Sometimes all I’m left with are a couple of papers that are filled with excuses of why I can’t reach the stars
Sometimes it hurts to try
Sometimes it becomes too much as if the world is weighing on me
Sometimes it’s hard to make out the words that lace people’s tongues because all I’m used to is bitter promises
Sometimes I reach my limit, and I’m standing at the edge of a cliff hoping that the dive crushes all the demons that continue to shadow me
Sometimes I remind myself that it’s all about the pains,
How we perceive them
Make something of them
Create with them
Most times the world’s a little dim but I have to see the light, because what’s there to live for, if not that?

I’m sorry
I’m sorry you weren’t courageous enough to fight the war against my thoughts
I’m sorry
I’m sorry my ship sunk faster than it could sail
It seems that my heart is flailing and the numbness has yet to reach my finger tips, but it’ll surely give in any second now
And I hate the way the stars aligned against us,
But what I hate more is how I thought you wanted every part of me only to realize you wanted the diamonds that came to being because of the overwhelming fire that continues to burn within me.
I’ve built walls to keep galactic beings like you out, because I knew the black sky would never look the same.
The moon was mine and now, it no longer is;
The moon hangs across my night sky, rotating in my solar system, existing within my galaxy, and fills my universe
The moon is no longer mine
And it hurts.
It’s like a needle pricked my skin and I’m watching the blood ooze out but I’m hoping my skin refuses to clot because then all I’ll be reminded of is the pain
And it’s always better to feel something rather than this void that eats me up for breakfast and leaves me drained for lunch until I’m starving for dinner.
I’m sorry
I’m sorry
I’m sorry I showed you parts of me you didn’t truly want to see
sorry these words are all I have as a form of honesty
The world continues to light match sticks and spark my house on fire
I’m unfortunate enough to realize that I’ll never own a home, most importantly not one within you.

Dear Nial (Numb),
Distance and I walked hand in hand and I lost her at the end of the street.
All the words filled the vacant cities that roamed my body but none of them were enough to keep her. None of them were enough to make it feel like home and none of them were enough to fight her demons.
I asked you to leave and lock the gates of Hell after you but you were unwilling to do so.
You let me know that you would continue to haunt my body, going from bar to bar, hoping that the liquor would satisfy my thirst.
The numbness began to spread and I couldn’t do anything but take a step back and watch.
I wanted to carve you out of her.
I wanted to stop you from creating graveyards within her chest but she wouldn’t allow me close enough to help her,
And so I watched, from a distance,
Hoping my words traveled to her through sound bites.
Nial,
I don’t think she knows it,
But she owns my words.
She owns them and she owns the stars and no matter how many times I’ve called onto the galaxies so they’d shine for her,
She always missed them, and it’s all because of you,
Nial.
A constant reminder,
You hold her hostage,
In the mental prison of thoughts and emptiness.
Let me hold her hands,
Please let me walk with her.
Let us watch the sunset after a long day of pouring rain, that sinks and drowns the brightest of flowers until they’re one with the soil.
Let her welcome me with open arms and lungs willing to breathe and I’ll be the air that inflates her with life.
She’s so much on her own.
She’s so ******* much that I’m afraid the world is still not ready for the wonder that is She.
She’s so much and yet I’d like to be standing next to her staring at all that she is in awe at how lucky I am to call her mine.

I painted my wrists black and blue hoping the colors indicated the underlying emotions locked up in 4 chambers spewing blood and oxygen throughout my body  
The dotted lines told a story of so much loss, you wouldn’t believe it unless you were there.
Sometimes the blade found its way, creating an opening with rich, wine-like blood oozing from a scratch and sometimes I had a hard time holding back but I always did because I never want to exist in a world that does not contain you.
Sometimes my insides burn up and I don’t know how to extinguish the flames that eat me alive, leaving nothing but char.
Sometimes the flowers growing around my lungs threaten to suffocate me and I can’t help but continue to water them because I don’t want anything else to wither and decay.
Sometimes your words drip like honey and I allow my tongue to lick every letter because I am head over heels for the sweetness that is you.
Sometimes my legs walk me to the finish line but my thoughts take me back to the starting point because nothing ever makes sense and there are multiple of options for why something might be the way it is, and all I want is for you to hold me.
Sometimes I’m feeling blue and black, while other times I’m the rest of the colors imbedded in a rainbow. I blow in full force blurring the lines between fantasy and reality, making you wish that I remain a sustainable part of your life.
I painted my wrists black and blue and reminded myself that my worst nightmares are nothing but that; nightmares.
I am the stars and I’m a field of roses swaying with the wind and I might flow against your sea but I’m asking you to caress my petals and be cautious of my thorns; as sharp and pure as I look, poison still seeps beneath my smooth, marked skin, and I am not aware of the damages my broken heart might ever create.