“Your smile is so beautiful,” they say —
but little do they know,
half of my face is paralyzed.

one side, playing the great pretender
the other,
basking in my sadness,
trying to heal the ache —
one side smiles, the other weeps,
tears running down
my freshly made clothes —
now sagging in my tears.

Do I really deserve skin
if I’m not comfortable in it?
Do I deserve a mouth,
if I can’t sing a sad melody
out into the world,
with the window open,
painting a scene,
spilling my mind on pavement
for anyone that stops
and cares to listen.

everyone still laughing, still smiling;
they walk past my cracks,
blind to the dark picture
I’m trying to open their eyes to.

half frozen,
half dead,
reaching —
for empathy.

the air picks up,
pushes me back from the window;
it shuts, sudden, cold.
I am lost, cut out —
again.

with my body barely able to move,
I reach for poetry,
hoping I can still write
when my voice feels thin,
my fingers trembling, half-paralyzed —
hoping it can set me free.

i let the sparks fly.
consuming my head,
the way you felt in my hands —
our flame could never cease to exist.
i inhale your smoke with no second thought,
letting you turn my lungs black.
the lighter to my cigarette,
but i never coughed out the smoke that you made me inhale;
it tasted so sweet, like lavender.

if i could feel you one last time,
i'd let you take me, take me away.
take my body, turn my heart black
if that's what it takes.
take my soul and wipe it clean
with those flaming fumes
that draw me to you.
the smell of lavender, the sweetness you once gave
now turns black; my lungs are no more,
but i still want more.

take me.
take me, i said.

each tear shed
is for the memory of our last kiss.
if not love,
i crave the pain —
make me feel something.

each drag a prayer,
prayer for this flame to never run out;
each tear a confession,
confessing that maybe i'm looking for something that once was.
waiting with a burnt-out lighter
in the hand you used to hold.

Go to sleep,
knowing
you did enough—
enough to deserve
the cold side of the pillow,
after all the muddy waters
trying to drown you.
Go to sleep,
knowing your name
is in that special someone’s mind.
Someone’s thinking about you.

—

Go to sleep,
because that text
from your mother
saying “Good morning!”
is too special
not to wake up to.
She waits for your reply too—
fearing,
hoping
it isn’t the last.

Don’t make her feel that pain—
the fear of realizing
you aren’t here anymore.

Don’t let her hear that phone ring
with the news
you were found—
lifeless.

Her world will crumble,
’cause really,
you were what kept it together.
Now,
you’re what left her paralyzed—
unable to speak,
unable to feel.
Trembling
when someone says your name.

She’ll second-guess every tear
as she replays
the last time she saw you.

Was that soft smile
you always gave—
just a lie?

She wears your favorite perfume,
but never tells anyone
it was yours.

“She should’ve called more,
visited more,
asked more questions...”
is all she can think,

as she picks out the flowers
for your funeral.
Even chooses your favorite song
for the ceremony
honoring your name—
but she can’t bear
to hear it anymore.

—

The extra plates,
the empty chairs
at your mom’s house
feel a little heavier.
But she still sets the table for you,
as if you were coming
for dinner.

—

Go to sleep.
You said you’d hang out,
grab coffee
with your best friend.
Go on that date
you set up
with the girl
you’ve crushed on since high school.
Hold her hand.
Eat chocolate-covered strawberries
under the night sky.
“It’s not time to go yet”
echoes in your mind.

—

You found purpose in her eyes—
the slight smiles,
the quiet giggles
that made the void
feel less like a trap.
Her words wrap around you,
asking you to stay.

—

Go to sleep.
There’s your favorite dessert
still in the fridge.
Your favorite band
plays in your city tomorrow.
Your mom got you tickets.
You always wanted to see them—
even as a kid.
Are you really going to let him—
that little, happy child
you once were—
fade away?

Do it for him.

—

Are you really gonna let go—
let go of his hand again?
Just like when he was small—
won’t you be there
for him anymore?
Will you let him cry,
alone—
on the days
he needed you?

—

To remind him:
“You don’t need to cry anymore.”

So if nothing else,
sleep for the little child
inside of you.
If nothing else,
build something
he can call a home—
a life
he always imagined.

—

You’re the only one
he ever trusted.
Don’t let go.
Stay with him.
Maybe you’ll see him
in your dreams,
showing you
what lies ahead.

You owe him tomorrow.

Atlantis

A body blessed
With perfection and purity.
A pond running
Down a village stream
With grace and beauty.
Sunlight drips like honey
Through the trees,
Into the warming body—
Nature’s purest creation.

The sun breathes
Warmth into the water.
Kids swimming
In the most loving
Bedtime story,
Putting their minds
To sleep—
Just for a second,
Entranced
By happiness—
So much so,
It almost feels
Like home.

An Atlantis
That never fell—
The only purity
Left in the world.

Birds awaken,
Turning silence into song.
Splashing sounds echo.
Lotus flowers bloom
On the surface,
Shedding sweet, scented petals
Into the water—
Feeling like,
There a relic
From the lost city of
Atlantis—
Reminding everyone
Of nature’s innocence.
The sweet scent
Reminds the children
Of a mother’s hug.

This is our Atlantis—
Our purest creation.