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 Feb 2019 Megan
Em
you and us
 Feb 2019 Megan
Em
you show up at my door for the first time in months. i see you, and it’s like you never even left. your eyes hold mine and the only way i can describe it is *******. you don’t even need to touch me for me to feel you. i hate you, you love me and i love you too, again. but you have to go, again, and i feel naked, wondering if this was finally our goodbye.
 Jan 2019 Megan
krm
Clothes have outgrown me many times over,
but this sadness never does.
One size.
fits all.
There should have been an obituary for cancer,  not you.
Wishing these slits within my skin could have been
replaced by a reality check from you, “You chose to exist.”

My name causes a sigh to escape from lips,
that do not feel like they belong to me,
the girl,
whose words always had to be special.

The schematics of hospitals like a birthmark in my brain,
born into sadness, a gut feeling as a child.
Never trusting time
due to what it delivers.

Death, being the only thing I desired.
But you, 
who I love,
endlessly-
robbed by it.
Whose ebb for life glowed so feverishly.
Stopped comparing depression to lace,
restricted the belief that suicide is poetic,
seeing things as they were.
More often than not, applauded for feeling emotions deeply.
Every second that dies, the shift of my heart quakes.

This world is not tender.

II. Sad.
I have known the flowers I wanted at my own premature funeral,
knowing how many bouquets honored you that day.

split open my veins like a dimension
reminiscent of days where I anticipated deathbeds.


My family wondered,
can we make it through another day?
Death scares me for what it has taken,
yet, I’m not afraid to die-
it’s all I deserve.
So I await the day pain erupts
from my throat,
acknowledging the days a soul
lived inside of my body-
footprints that walked,
belonging to me.

But I learned so well.
How to suffer with a smile,
dreading the beating of my heart
how unfair—
I don’t want to take these deep breaths
You deserved,while I masquerade as a member of the undead
Never outgrowing the desire to rot with the phantoms residing under my bed.


III. Jokes played by the universe.
punchlines delivered,
how could anyone to stand to be in the same room as myself?
How could anyone look over skyscrapers and sunsets,
and not be infatuated with concrete consuming them?
How I shared a sigh of relief during the thought-
of knowing people would thrive without me,
or the power of a belly laugh,
resembling a laugh track audience
drowning out 3 AM suicidal thoughts.
I wrote this in pink gel pen, maybe, that’s another joke.
 Jan 2019 Megan
Wanderer
I see only absence in his eyes
where love should be

I wonder sometimes
if it would have hurt more
had I grown up
immortalizing him in memories and stories
knowing that had he been there
he would have loved his baby girl
truly and deeply
or if watching him
fail to love me
day after day
year after year
is as painful as death
 Jan 2019 Megan
Wanderer
Artists are often
broken people
using the fragments of themselves
to create something new
and although
being healed
feels so complete
sometimes i want to be broken again
sometimes i want open wounds
so i can use the blood
to paint sunsets
so i can use the torn off pieces of skin as a canvas
so i can carve
masterpieces with the jagged bones left behind
but I can't bring myself to break my own heart in the name of Art
 Dec 2018 Megan
Casey
feels #2
 Dec 2018 Megan
Casey
i get *******
my brain gets tangled
i dive head first
my heart gets strangled
 Dec 2018 Megan
Em
crazy
 Dec 2018 Megan
Em
tell me
why you blame me
for being crazy
when you were the one
who made me this way
to begin with

— The End —