When you hurt, a part
Of me experiences
A share of your pain.

Five years old we were,
When we promised that we would never
Leave each other,
That we'd be best friends forever.
Seven years old we were,
When you broke your leg at gymnastics, and I
Lay by your bed for hours, reading you
Every Golden Book ever printed.
Nine years old we were,
When I developed my first crush,
And together we giggled for hours, and I thought
My cheeks would be permanently blushing.
Eleven years old we were,
When you transferred to a different
School district and although it wasn't far,
Our farewell was plagued by sobbing.
Thirteen years old we were,
When we fought for the first time,
Something stupid about a guy, and I
Don't think you ever fully forgave me.
Fifteen years old we were,
When I went to your house, and your
Mom told me you were out at a party.
You hated parties.
Seventeen years old we were,
When I went to your national gymnastics meet,
Uninvited, of course, and afterwards you
Yelled at me in front of the cameras.
Nineteen years old we are,
I am off at college, and I haven't heard from you
In two years, and all I can think is
Where are you?
Twenty-one years old I am,
And I realize there is no "we" or "us'
Anymore, and I no longer care
Where you are.

The whispers
                 behind his back
                                killed him.

When
    did I become an acquaintance, an object you pushed to the side, only used when necessary?

When
    was I not the first person you texted with news, not the first person you would say hi to in the morning, the first person on your mind?

When
    did you cut me off with rainbow bruises and lightning scars, and the thunder of your footsteps left me alone?

When
    did you create that perfect storm, that hurricane, that took me away, so now I don’t even know you anymore and I don’t even know what I would say to you now?

When
    did you stop loving me and

Why?

I have so many ideas swirling through my
Head, I never know which ones to write
Down, which ones to commit to memory,
Which ones to care for like my child.
So many of my thoughts I abort, and
For different reasons.  
Maybe this idea will slowly corrupt my mind,
Maybe it will harm someone else.  
Maybe it will be worthless in time,
Maybe it is already too old.
Yet what should I do with these
Thoughts I’ve aborted?
Just because I’ve discarded them,
Doesn’t mean they’re entirely forgotten.
Does a mother ever forget an aborted child?
Does she forget the feeling of the child in her womb,
The raging hormones, the night of conception?
Of course not.
My ideas are the same,
Still there in the back of my mind,
Wanting to be alive,
Breathing, Functioning.
If you had an idea that would stop
World hunger, create world peace,
Find the cure to cancer, or
Stop humans from harming the earth,
Would you **** it?
Then why would you do the same to
A child who could have those ideas?

“Why didn't you tell me you were hurting?”
She asked, with tears in her eyes.
“I didn't want to burden you,”
He answered quietly,
His eyes boring a hole in the ground.
What he really wanted to say was,
“I wanted to see how long it took you to notice.”

Why do I write?
It’s not because I enjoy the
Pen on the paper, the faint
Smell of ink on my hands or
The sound of a page being torn
From a notebook.
It’s not because my fingers feel at
Home on the keyboard,
Because the clacking of the letters comforts me,
Or because the sight of a blank Google Doc
Excites me.
It’s not even because writing makes
Me happy, or that I find particular
Joy in it, inspiring me to release
My thoughts into the world.
No.
It’s because these thoughts are
Lions pacing in their cage,
Growling under their breath,
Wanting to be let out; no,
Needing to be released and free to
Roam wild, and not be restrained by
Any human contraption.
Same with my words; they refuse to
Stay trapped in my head, they must
Come out somehow.
It’s a need.
Why do I write?
You might as well ask,
Why do I breathe?

I shouldn't write after 10 pm
Because after 10 pm,
I hear your laughter in my mind,
The clear ringing of your happiness,
And I just want to hear it again,
Mingled with my own.
I shouldn't write after 10 pm
Because after 10 pm,
I see your smile under my eyelids,
Your body curled up on the couch
In my favorite red sweatshirt,
Your gorgeous blue eyes gazing at my own.
I shouldn't write after 10 pm
Because after 10 pm,
I feel your arms around me,
The gentle rhythm of your breathing,
Your soft hair brushing my cheek,
And your heart beating within you, just for me.
I shouldn't write after 10 pm
Because after 10 pm,
Every happy or sad thought
Is traced back to you;
You are constantly on my mind,
But after the world turns off and the darkness comes on,
I can see you so much more clearly,
And my ache is renewed.
Please, someone stop me from writing after 10 pm.
I don't want this pain.

Sometimes I wish for a war
So I could hold your velvet hands in mine
Wrap my arms around you maybe for the last time
Have an excuse to tell you how I feel-
Tell you that your smile is sometimes the only reason I’m still here
That your kind words light up every part of my soul
That you are what makes me whole.
I want to hold your face and say your name
And tell you it will be okay
That even though the world around us crumbles,
I will stay.
I will listen to your fears,
Hold all of your tears,
And love the heart you wear on your sleeve.
Sometimes I wish for a war
So I could hold your velvet hands in mine
Wrap my arms around you maybe for the last time
Have an excuse to tell you how I feel-
You are
What makes me whole.

Please tell everyone your name, grade,
And what instrument you play.
We’re just going to go over some basics.
You can have a break in ten minutes.
Band, ten, HUT!
HUT!
Come to set!
Attention!
I said come to set!
Heels together, toes apart.
Check your posture!
Guide to your left!
No, your other left!
Your steps are too big.
No, now your steps are too small.
You have to stay at set for three minutes;
If anyone moves, we start again.
Restart the time!
Restart again!
Get your feet in time, freshmen!
Section leaders, I need to see you.  Now.
Your water break is still ten minutes away.
Drum majors, go get more batteries for the met.
First competition guys, good luck!
I don’t care if it’s late, we need to learn the drill.
Someone go run and turn on the field lights!
You’ll thank me later.
First football game, good luck!
Drumline, did I say you could put your instruments down?
Trumpets, get your horns up!  To the press box!
You’ll get it, don’t give up!
Last competition guys, congrats!
Give it your all and don’t look back!
Guard, don’t **** anybody with your flags.
GUARD!
Last football game, congrats!
Somebody please let the bass drums through!
Everybody give me your plumes!
Do NOT set your uniform on the ground!
I expect all of you back next year.
Thank you for giving me your best.
I apologize for when I was at my worst.
I love you guys.

You were an amazing band mom.
You were stern:
“Come back here and pick up your uniform!”
You were kind:
“I packed you a lunch for your long day.”
You were an incredible principal.
You were stern:
“You really need to start turning in your homework.”
You were kind:
“If you come to my office after school, I will help you.”
You were a wonderful mother.
You were stern:
“Come here right now and put your clothes away!”
You were kind and loving:
“If you ever need to talk about anything, I’m here.”
Even though you were taken
So suddenly from us yesterday,
No one will forget you and
How you influenced everybody in your circle and
Beyond.
Today is one of those gloomy rainy days,
And I know why.
It’s because even the heavens are crying for you.

You’re my moon,
The light that shines during my darkest times.
Your kisses are the stars,
Enveloping me,
Comforting me,
When I’m out in the night
And I’m wondering why.
You orbit me, never leaving,
And I will never fully understand
What makes you stay.
Some invisible force,
Yet it must be strong,
Keeping you here when I feel I don’t belong,
When I’m sad and broken,
Just staring up at the sky,
Feeling your stars.
You’re my moon.

The darkness around me is impermeable,
Gloomy, funereal.
It weighs down on me, and I imagine
Atlas holding up the sky,
The unbearable burden on his shoulders,
And I feel the same pain.
I struggle to breathe,
Each breath tears at my throat,
Rips its seams and sinews
Until I can barely speak.
My tattered wings flutter uselessly,
My muscles losing strength every moment,
My vigor being drained by the darkness surrounding me,
Until I can hardly stand.
Suddenly, a brilliant ray of light shines from
Somewhere in the darkness,
A beacon, directing me somewhere.
Warmth, hope, joy, peace, and relief flow out from
The light source in a everlasting stream.
A river of light, a torrent of happiness, that
Drags me out of my stupor, injecting new
Life into my veins, causing my wings to flitter with
Renewed aspirations.
I fly haltingly towards the light, drawn to it by
An almost supernatural force.
However, the closer I get, the harder it is to see myself;
My wings fade, becoming almost transparent, and
A piece of the dull ache returns, a remnant of the darkness.
The pain gets closer as I get closer to the light,
Closer to you.
You are my light, and I am your moth.
Everything good, everything true, you represent,
But I can’t touch you, can’t truly know you.
I can’t lose myself.
I can’t be your moth anymore.
Find yourself a butterfly.

Dividing zero
By any number will still
Leave you with zero.

If you have no love
To begin with, nothing can
Force it to appear.

Dividing zero
By any number will still
Leave you with zero.