"Don't touch me," I whisper.
Usually a phrase reserved
for those who have a reason.
Abuse, assault, or something along those lines.
Not for me
a girl without a reason.
Maybe its an anxiety thing
or part of the depression.
Or simply because
I'm afraid.
Touch is equivalent to affection.
Maybe I think I don't deserve it
or maybe I'm scared to hold onto it.
But nevertheless
you'd think a person would listen.
Back away or freeze
And decide not to touch you
because its not what you want
whether its only a kiss or hug
from a family member
You'd think they'd register a no.
But they don't
they surge forward
wrapping themselves around you
suffocating me until I'm gasping for breath
"Please don't touch me"
means nothing to those
who have hugged you before
because they think they're special.

I woke up in a good mood
a strange occurrence for me
something I only experience
once in a blue moon
or however that expression goes.

I woke up in a good mood
I felt alive for the first time in a long time
I smiled, laughed, joked
but this time the smile was real
and I looked forward to the rest of the day.

I woke up in a good mood
and everything was fine
until it was all crashing down again
a smile faltered, a laugh stifled, a joke lost
and suddenly my mood wasn't so great.

I woke up in a good mood
I promise that just a few hours ago
I was doing fine
better than I had been in a long time
and to say I don't know what happened would be a lie.

I woke up in a good mood
and I don't want to point fingers
but if I wanted to I could
I know whose at fault
and as much as I want to say it was me, it wasn't.

I woke up in a good mood
or at least I think I did
but maybe it was just another mirage
a sliver of false hope
that only lasted for a few hours.

I woke up in a good mood
but I don't think I will tomorrow
or the day after that
maybe never again
but I guess that's not really up to me.

I feel like writing
but what?
What is there left
to talk about?
Just about everything's
been said or done
at some point,
so what is there left to write.
And how can it be
that there are still
new combinations
for people to write.
So now what do I write?
Well,
I guess this will do.

I wish I was a bird
Maybe a blue jay or a finch
because I could brighten the world
with my vivid colors
and sing peacefully
through the mornings.
Maybe I could be a heron
large and lanky
with legs that stretch tall
and hold me higher than others.
But maybe being an owl would suit me
those smaller would fear me
my majestic and glorious self
large fluffy wings carrying me
all through the night.
But maybe I'd just be a hummingbird
Small and fragile
Almost invisible to everything else
yet I'd still make such an impact.
I guess I wish I was bird
because I'd finally be able to fly free
in a way I could never do
without a set of wings.

There are too many
too too many
they fill my head
and pound at my skull
begging to be released
but they can't escape
I can't let them escape
They could hurt
and they could damage
those around me
so I hold tight
to my truth
to protect everyone
even though
its slowly killing me.

Everything’s spinning
The silk wrapped around me gets thicker
Squeezing me
Constricting
Until I can’t breathe
I gasp and beg for breath
But the cocoon only grows tighter
Like my begging and crying
Means absolutely nothing.

Midnight conversations
Are my favorite thing
People seem to open up more
When their brain is fogged
With a strong desire for sleep.
You get to know people
You thought you already knew.
And people who thought they know you
Learn more.
It’s a quieter type of conversation
One with flying thumbs
And a deafening silence surrounding you.
And I find peace
Knowing that I’m being heard
Without having to speak.