I wrote this instead of sleeping
Because everytime I close my eyes I think of you
And I'm still unsure if it counts as a nightmare
If you wake up more longing than scared

It's been hard to find my muse since you left
You were the source of so many of my poems even though I tried so hard to deny it time after time
I realized when you were around I was drinking profusely
and my drunken brain finds poetry to be great company
just personal enough to offer comfort but just distant enough from physical contact
poetry doesn't look me in the eye shaking my shoulder until I snap out of it
poetry lets me sit in this shallow puddle in-between of swirling emotions the English language never bothered to name
So my muse hasn't been here much since you haven't
but my depression hasn't been here much either
nor my anxiety
I stayed constant without you here
its kinda funny, huh? I have you to thank for the rise of me
but I also have you to thank for my downfall
I'm finding my muse again--
this time without you
and this poetry will be that much more beautiful
watch out
she has risen from her ashes

I used to believe in the tooth fairy more than Santa claus
It's funny how our childhood brains find fallacies in the impossible
But a tooth-crazed fairy?
Well that made perfect sense.

--It's weird to think about

And the words dropped from your lips like honey
And my ears became clogged with their sweetness
I did not hear you say goodbye

I've known these people less than 48 hours and already the knowledge they leave on monday is causing ants to stamp their feet into my chest
I should be happy that they are leaving
that they've progressed enough to not need constant supervision
but instead I am anxious
already fearing the change
I'll still be here
and though they owe me nothing
I feel abandoned, betrayed

These people know more about me than my parents
these people know more about me than my closest friends
I have a hard time opening up to people
I have difficulty trusting
seeing them go feels like heartbreak
I will be alone again

--while I love to be alone, I'm not very fond of being lonely

I lowered my guard when you held me and swore that you'd stay
You'd stay
You'd stay
In your arms I heard someone laugh
And I think it was myself

       ---Ask anyone what the greatest love story is, and they'll give you a tragedy

I'm guarded,
but these walls are glass:
thick like the acrylic in aquariums.
I can see through,
bang on the walls until my hands are red,
shout, but no sound ever leaves this fortress

instead I watch
as the people stare in at me;
hundreds of eyes watching me
causing my skin to crawl like insects are living beneath it

they precieve me but do not know me---
gawk and laugh and smudge the glass;
my vision to the outside becomes jaded--
blurry audience to my sideshow act---
there's something to be said about just exsisiting

I'm there with pretty patterns,
colors that scream dangerous to the natural world;
there is total lack of monochrome
bar the numerous stickers on my torso and limbs

and they stare at me appalled
while their children giggle and  point with wonder in their eyes
demanding to know what is that creature?
why it's so funny,
why it's so loud and bright and struggling to hide
when it's obviously something a wonder to be seen

they shush their children then--
saying don't look and not to point
while they raise their eyebrows in judgement and gossip to their friends later about what they saw that day
I have become a spectacle and in a way I did it to myself
trapped in the necessity of uniformity so long I started to ooze out of my clothes like sludge

it dripped into new shoes and formed someone new
I'm still learning to accept her vision in the glass when I look in the mirror
trying to find the awe of a child's eyes through the ones of an adult

I've said time and time again what my future will look like
simple ranch style house filled with animals
my pigs running around like cats or dogs
sleeping and feasting like kings
I always told myself this would be my reality
said it with such conviction to others that I believed that conviction alone could will it into existence

At the same time I spoke to others how I was going to be a teacher
from the age of seven certain that's what I would be doing with my life
Here I am
in college for the third time
aiming for a degree far away from my childhood dream
this time I'm hoping for insurance and security

I can't really see my ranch style house in my sights anymore
can't see these animals I would invite others to work with either
I can't see the dream I had always tried to speak into reality
the path ahead has gotten too foggy

My dreams are changing without me
my childhood whims are slipping from my grasp
Others telling me that I can still achieve them
but how can I achieve anything
if I can't even achieve my own happiness

agitating and pitiful
polarizing--
bittersweet
I see the people I once knew very well become strangers
enjoy each other's time with care and honesty
a transparency I never felt I could be with them
Instead, the time is tinted in soft memories with the ghost of a past self who was timid in her own clothes
I watch as you enjoy and flourish
wings spread
already airborne
while my wax has melted, dried into a too thick clump
heavy with no clear goal in sight

I'm happy that you're doing well
that you are still friends
that you are thriving in the world you have made for yourself
but I watch
and I wither
and I weep in the garden of my own creation:
hollow and musk

to you it may look like I am merely surviving
and that may be true in some way
but I've found truer friends than you ever were to me
who don't judge
and continue to choose me again every day

it still hurts my heart to see you interacting
laughing with big smiles and jokes on your tongues
remembering a time where I could have been with you through it all
that year I left and was forgotten about still burns like incense
I've never been good at being someone people want to continue to be with
I usually push others away intended or not
but I'll still like your posts on the internet
and I'll comment on the pictures of you standing there at the wedding I never even saw an invitation for
and it feels funny for me to think I thought
one day I'd be standing there beside you all

My mother laughs at the obituaries every morning over breakfast
sharing with me the ridiculous names some people were once unfortunate to have
She cuts out her favorites adding them to her collection on the inside of a cabinet door in our kitchen

I guess that's unusual
laughing at someone else's pain
Maybe she's a sadist
or maybe I'm the one with a problem
because instead of laughing or feeling pity
I swallow my mouthful of cereal and I am jealous

And it was an urge
An inkling of a whim
A hand between my shoulder blades lightly reassuring me
And that's all it was supposed to be
My impulsive behavior is not unusual
Many piercings and tattoos once an intrusive thought now permanently affixed on my body
You were the same
An impulse
A two year long impulse that brought me more happiness than I could have imagined and more pain than I care to admit


--Unlike my tattoos a small part of me regrets you

And for years I dreamed of recognition
Of acceptance from my peers
But you showed me that I shouldnt worry about all the stars in the night sky
When I had the love of the full moon

Sometimes I smile so hard it makes my soul crack instead of my teeth
And the tears fall
And the dam that was that smile cannot hold back the true emotions anymore
And I wonder
If even when I was truly happy
If I was just faking it all.

I poured so much of my time into you
into us
that I overflowed onto the table
a circular stain marring it for eternity

everytime I look at that table
use it to eat off, draw on, play cards with friends
I am reminded of us again

Watermarks are not enough reason for new furnishings
Coffee stains are a fact of life
I don't need to throw out the table we built together
even though looking at it hurts everytime

Recently I found some paint
and I decided that I can reclaim this again
I will reclaim this again

--With new memories and stains
    that were never meant for you.

Sometimes I don't feel like I'm anyone's anything except maybe their problem
and I would give anything to gain the amount of love I give for others
My first steps were on eggshells, and I've been tiptoeing ever since
afraid of breaking the perfectly laid out path that was crafted of my own volition
I attempt to stomp on occasion,
but am met with glares in response to the sound

I want to be needed
but more than that I want to be wanted
and it's difficult for me to accept that
someone could want me in return

I've found people before who seem secure
yet every time the safety breaks and the steady smooth ride turns turbulent into a crash

I feel secure with you for now
our communication is clear and valued
but I can't help wondering how long this security could last
I doubt myself more often than not
I'm still waiting for the fall

The withdrawal is nicotine induced but im the cigarette being stomped to the ground

I always knew you would change my life for good
How foolish I was to believe it would be for the better

I wish I had better coping skills
but who needs therapy when
you can just as easily cut your hair
and pierce your nose
I have seven tattoos and
ten piercings
I'm running out of room

I know talking about the future scares you
I'm sorry
It's just that I never saw myself having a future
And now with you
I can see it
I can see us
And it gives me hope
So I see our future
And I want to tell you how excited I am
I know it scares you
I sorry

My two best friends in the world are in toxic relationships
both engaged
both living parallel lives miles apart
young and dumb
broke and self-medicating
I look at these relationships around me and wonder if they think they're perfect and healthy
I wonder if they find mine toxic the way I find theirs--
wonder if they see the red flags in mine they can't see in theirs
I wonder if I'm the only one in this relationship who is in love
who fell hard and never got back up
who feels comforted by your embrace
Don't tell me this is toxic
Don't let this be one-sided
Please

I had so much to say I wrote it on paper, folded it in a square until I couldnt anymore, and sealed it in a bottle
When I dropped it in the ocean I thought nothing of it--
Thought nothing of who would answer or where it would end up
A part of me believing it would break and sink to be unanswered forever
Theses bottles
These messages
My secret.
I can tell you, the ocean, the river, the stream
I can whisper my words into your waters.
Hope comforting that they will evaporate in time
And rain down again
An answer in their downpour

She asked why I loved the rain
I didnt know what to say

I'm fearful for the day I lose all sense of self
and it's not like my worth is equated in belongings
but I'm losing mine now and that's something to grieve
realistically
I know
they are still there
just tucked away for a later date
but for now I lose the enrichment in my enclosure
and can't help but feel a void opening in this cavity I call a chest

I bought myself a ring and
you said it was weird
twenty dollars of sterling silver
now perched on my left ring finger
It doesn't belong to you
not some symbol that I'm taken
my right hand just does too much in
a day to be dressed up
but this ring bothers you
you said it looks like I'm married or engaged
and truth be told that doesn't bother me
because I look at this flea market buy and see what could be
I see what one day could be your ring on my vow
But you find it odd and unsettling
and I'm struggling to find that fact anything but unnerving

I am cobblestone cracking in the heat
Terrified of becoming inconsequential under your feet
Once a beautiful stone carefully layed now weathered and worn

----I keep thinking I am breaking

My words often drip with sarcasm
or spit out with such bluntness you'd spend nights lying awake thinking of them
My words hang unspoken on the walls like a crooked picture
      out of place
my words are carefully chosen and have a lust for hyperbole
my words build up self esteem in one phrase and tear it apart the next
my words
     my words
          my words
 my words will caress your body  
will fill your mind with reassurance and love
will tease your skin like feathers
dance across your memory like ballerinas en pointe
                                                     my words
                                                  my words
                                             my words
My words ****** you like the siren they are---luring you to your ultimate demise

It's been weeks since I've showered
the shower is clean here
ready for use
but bathing feels like a sign of progress and I'm not there yet
the shower here is unfamiliar
and cold
green plaster floors and walls match the green of the sheets I spend my nights on nothing like the cool gray of my shower curtain at home
no familiar scents for comfort
nothing to hang a towel on
they are making me shower here--
well highly encourage it --
but I haven't showered in almost a month and now my anxiety is making what should be a simple task difficult
I am once again having to face my own mind and its reluctance to let me (breathe, live, function) exist.

I know I'm being selfish
and I'm sorry, okay?
I know you think I'm being ridiculous--
criticizing
over-analyzing
hyper-aware
I'm not mad I promise
I'm just upset
You think I say it too much
that those words lose meaning everytime
But I see it differently
Every time I say those words is another moment I think of you
It's another memory of us
another vision of our future together
I love you
I'm so ******* in love with you

so please....
when I say it
say it back
Don't pull a Han Solo and say that you know
when I look at you with longing and hurt in my eyes
tell me you love me
tell me when you're not prompted to at all
Tell it to me before I say it to you
I know you show your love in other ways
but I'm selfish and insecure and I need vocalization to know my mind isn't playing tricks on me
to know that you really do still feel the spark like I do after two years
I love you
I love you
I'm so in love with you

Why can't you say it to me
without my saying it to you?

His tongue felt too big for his mouth
A cotton plant growing in his throat, but he choked the words out around the dry leaves and the tears that threatened to fall and water it.
"I'm sorry too."

Sometimes I believe that if I
care for these animals that
it will prove I can
somehow take care of myself

I told you loved you
And you said it back
I've never felt relief
Such as that

Young, hunched over, under covers,
Hous after lights out--
Bedtime forgotten;
Book in hand;
Fake sleeping when parents checked;
A secret moment in the world just for me
               It's a wonder how my flashlight never ran out

I wait for the day I shoot vines from my fingertips
Long for the overgrowth to take my body back to the earth
I've taken so much from her
I'm sorry I love the feel of paper over a computer screen in my hands
The smell of ink and yellowing pages always gave me more comfort than any keyboard could.
But earth, darling, I promise you
When I return you can make me into the most beautiful foliage
Print a book on me.

I'm suffocating
My body is shaking
Panting even
Why cant I get any air
Should I go outside?
Outside of this body
This prison of mine
Trapping me with it's human needs and desires
I want outside so badly
I can almost see it
I can see the trees
I hope they come for me
Air will soon follow

I think I've been too much again
too obtrusive in ways that I don't mean to be
I'm codependent and that's not healthy
but I felt that I could be with you and now I'm not so sure

but you said you needed space
and I understand needing to be alone
but I can't help this feeling that I've done something wrong to push you away

I'm a lot and I know that
it's hard to admit it to myself
you kept me steady and routine
I'm not quite sure how to deal without
right now of all times

I'm vexatious
and burdensome
difficult
and loud
annoying like a fly buzzing in your ear;
constant and disruptive

and I talk about myself way too much
and I share little things about my day
and I think they've added up to being too much

and others tell me I'm not
but it feels like they're just placating
because I'm never too much with them  and I know I am with you

this is why I don't let people in
because every time I do they eventually pull away
unable to keep up with everything I am
so I pull back instead
hesitant to jump in
the water is always a shock to my system
I started wading instead
but by the time I'm fully swimming
you've gotten out to tan

I know I am too much
colorful and loud
unapologetic until I am crying again alone
I care about you in a way I know you don't care the same

so instead I'll be quiet
accommodating and considerate
your own feelings placed above my own
I'll get out of the water
drops evaporating from my skin
until there is nothing left but air and a stranger
where there once was a friend

I have never had a fondness for roses
a basic beauty, classic, calm, safe
Instead, I have found enchantment in the chaotic
the unpredictable, the unusual
Chrysanthemums hold my intrigue
I fell in love with you for the same reason

My hands are a mockery of what they create
Slit cuticles and short bitten nails
Somehow they still create beauty in ink
Maybe they can because they wish themselves beautiful
I try to treasure my hands
To treat them to sophistication as they deserve
But my job
My work
My habits
They prevent my hands from being anything more than peasant rough calloused
But I have learned those with hands like mine haven talents
Gifts they can give to the world
And so I have learned to love them instead of apologizing for them

I know that better days are coming
I haven't seen them in years
every time I think I'm better
or that life has delt me a good hand
the gamblers curse returns
and I'm in worse debt than before
this dealer is good
he knows just how to deal to make me play
gives me a enough wins to think I'm ahead
but the house always wins
and the dealer for my life always steals back more than he gives

---I've tried to quit before, but addiction is prevelant and I can't seem to stop playing this game called life.

Often times I will love my poetry the moment I write it
Believe it to be one of the best I have written
but then I go back
and reread
and realize that I don't love it as much as the ones
I thought were sub-par

    --It was the same with you

I know there is a piece of my soul left somewhere in the discarded text messages on your phone
I know there is a trashed email from me in your inbox from years ago
and it's weird to think that the last time we spoke I was grieving something fierce
it's years later and I still grieve you

I still think about you often
worry over the ache you have instilled into me
catch myself going to say your name and letting the sounds of it get stuck in the back of my throat

I swallow

you were the person I thought I'd spend my life with
grow into the little old ladies who rock in their chairs on the porch
now I think back on those assumptions with a bitter taste in my mouth

I hear your name and panic
and I don't think it should be that way
I shouldn't fear every time something reminds me of you
but I think about the time we spent together with fondness and immense pain
you have given me nothing more than sour memories and trauma that walks beside me day after day

I hope you are doing well
I hope you are a better person than you were to me
I hope you never hurt someone as deeply as you hurt my heart
and I hope to never hear from you again

I don't think I could take it.

I was waiting for the other foot to drop


It stomped.

I am a ****** friend
a ****** person
I blow off plans I make with others
I blow off plans I make with myself
and I sit
and I dwell
and I sleep
and I miss out on people
and places
and life

I am a sitty friend
self admitted
knowledge is not enough to spark change
I want to change
I haven't changed
and I still don't have a therapist
and I still can't hold relationships
and I still want
and wait

I am a ****** friend
and person
but I'm a model employee
married to my job
chained to my bills
caged by my own mental health

I don't like letting people down
I always seem to let people down
I'm tired of letting people down
I'm tired of letting myself down
I'm tired

I am a ****** friend
and I know this
knowledge of a fact is not enough to spark change

I hung up my clothes today
separated them into donate and keep
folded the ones that didn't need to take up vertical space
and when I was done I spent the rest of the day on the verge of a panic attack
unable to complete the rest of my work
unable to do anything worthy of contribution at my job
I took more breaks today than I ever have
hid in the office for a few hours occupying myself with paperwork
hiding from guests
and coworkers
and responsibility
and stimuli
I sat out on the receiving dock
where others go to some cigarettes
I found myself sitting on the concrete steps still slightly damp from rain earlier that day and resisting the impulse to knock my head against the brick wall of the building.

I did a simple task and I could not function
this is what I mean when I say I need help.

I think we were always destined to be this way
a kindred spirit who haunts my dreams
I compare everyone to you

call me again when you have your life figured out
I promise I'll probably still be waiting
and I'm not sure that's healthy

but if in years down the line I am content with another, and you asked me for a chance
then I'd have to at least think about it

And if I come back as a ghost
I will haunt you every day like you haunt my memories

A few weeks ago
while in a state of mania
I wrote down a physical bucket list
and you know,
I never thought I would cross anything off
Always figured my increased motivation through increased serotonin was untouchable by my average
instead I found myself crossing two items off yesterday
I succeeded where my mania said my depression would fail
I wrote more ridiculous tasks
who knows what I'm capable of

I'm stuck feeling for something that doesnt exsist
A dream I lost consciousness in too hard
The waking world doesnt feel the emotions I have
Words no language could begin to describe
They were artificial and simulated
But still the most I've felt in a long time

i have turned to thunder
a response to your lightening gaze
i refuse to be silenced

I left my soul in ink on paper and I’ve
been writing ever since trying to get it back
When it left me I became hollow
I only feel complete when I’m burning
my mind in black
In words
In feelings
In worlds beyond imagination
But when that book ends,
When that final word leaves my finger tips
When the ink runs out
I lose my soul all over again
I left it in ink on paper
and I’ve been trying ever since to get it back

  --Is that why writers are always lonely?