"Write and keep writing. Because a pen does not bleed for art; it scars for survival."

Next time you walk away....
And leave me crying...
Don't come back....

sometimes i have to breathe in,
and breathe out,
so i can remind myself not
to doubt
my existence
so i can remind myself of
the distance
between my room and my
mother's
so i can remind myself to not give her another
gray hair
so i can remind myself that
someone out there
probably does care
so that i can remind myself that
i matter,
though my heart
may shatter
and the art
within me probably
won't matter
sometimes i have to breathe in,
and breathe out,
so i can remind myself that i am alive
and that i can survive.

The tree.
It’s waving at
me.
Calling
me.
Begging
me
to come out. Run away from
Here. This prison, holding me back from my
                         deepest
                                                       ­                      longing.

I hate it Here.

I need to go. I need to run away from
Here.
Run to
Him.
That tree…
I dream of the other tree.
The tree under which we promised with our
lips;
Promised that
Someday,
we will have each other, without having to
  Hide.
                        Wait.
                    ­                     ....Run.
But maybe,
if we want,
we will run anyway.

The tree keeps waving at me.
*It hasn’t given up.