when the days and nights start bleeding together
and your mind stops shutting off at the end of the day,
call me.
i can't guarantee you i will have anything to say
except,
“you're not the only one awake.”

because sometimes my mind forgets to go to sleep too,
and by sometimes, i mean almost always.

when you do finally close your eyes only to wake up
thirty minutes later, paralyzed in fear, body in panic mode,
call me.
i won't promise you i will have any words
except,
“i've had that nightmare.”

because sometimes my anxiety triggers those dreams too,
and by sometimes, i mean almost always.

when you leave your house the next morning
already dreading having to go through it again hours later,
call me.
i might not have anything to tell you
except,
“i understand.”

because sometimes i can't feel anything anymore either.
because sometimes it's like this has taken over my whole life.
because sometimes i'm so sick of living this way.
and by sometimes, i mean almost always.

so call me.

because sometimes you don't have to be on your own.
because sometimes you're not really alone.
because sometimes you don't even you know.
and by sometimes, i mean almost always.

Eyes are staring
my mind is screaming
all my flaws are on display

but those eyes
their not mocking
their memorizing

they smirk and
they lust to sit beside me,
for their hands to ***** at my flesh

I'm a pretty face
and a decent body

they can't hear the voice inside my mind
or understand the fear
that strangles me

they want action
and if I was alone
I know they would have
taken the lead

because to them- my greatness is

a pretty face
and a decent body

and I can't find someone
who wants my thoughts
before the softness of my skin

you are leaving again.
i find myself saddened without tangible reason.
and i know that with my sadness should come some joy,
and if not joy, 
then relief,
because when you are half the world away,
it becomes just a bit easier
to forget the times when you were so painfully closer.
i can look up at the moon — a pale phantom sliver —
and know that you do not gaze upon it at that same time.
in that moment,
the moon is mine.
i do not mind that the sun rises for you
so long as i cannot see it.
so i should breathe easy;
your absence gives me a little more room to love myself.

and yet —
there is always an “and yet” with you — 
when the easier breathing begs for entrance to my lungs,
i turn it away.
to forget you would mean to forgo grieving,
and god knows i live for a good ache.

so i think of you,
faultless in the dim yellow glow.
images i shouldn't call upon.
small, soft moments when you seemed to see me.
i remember the time when you crowned me with a halo, deemed me an angel.
i imagine that you are the only one who could ever make me believe that i fit the part.

glowing.
i don't know if you were but i was.
glowing.
if we have to share the moon, then so be it.

i find myself saddened without tangible reason.
this is the part where you come in.

but you are leaving again.
i could ask myself if you were ever truly "here,"
but it always hurts the most to ask the questions i already know the answers to.
so i think, instead,
of you,
faultless in the dim yellow glow.
the pain is a little bit more bearable.
i imagine that maybe you were glowing, too.

(a.m.)