do you ever wonder
if you find pleasure in your sadness?
i ask myself many times if i do.
in the moment it isn't pleasurable,
but it's kept me company for so long.
i wonder if i should call it a friend.
a long distance lover
coming home for the weekend,
who will arrive soon
with tickets of tears
and promises of gloom.
maybe that makes me a special *******,
but at least i'm not lonely.

they say
the smallest acts of love
make the greatest difference.
the first thought is typically
a clasp to the hand,
a kiss on the cheek,
a small surprise of flowers or chocolates.
me:
a blanket.
my parents and siblings have all taken cat naps
and forgotten covers
when they've fallen asleep on the couch, the bed,
wherever they choose to lay down and drift.
and once i've covered them with an old blanket
sitting in the closet, waiting to be used,
i remember the little things.
romantic notions/acts/gifts
still hold romantic weight.
the smallest things
are what make the difference.
the safety of someone caring for you
in the most unexpected and minuscule moments.
falling asleep on the couch,
and without warning,
a cover resting over you,
a small semblance of home/safety/care.
that's how i picture love.

let
others see how staggering you are.
allow
the walls you've created around yourself
to dissolve.
reveal
the deepest corners of yourself
to every ray of the light.
****
the demons you have harbored.
create
space for
something better.
someone better.
step
through the doors;
move
within in the world,
newly naked and always terrified.
you'll live better that way.

until there's nothing left
in your eyes
i carry ounces and pounds and tons
like they're feathers flying through the air
weightless and bountiful
and plentifully fine on the space of my back
you give and give and give and give
the matter that seems to weigh you down
with little regard for the emptiness of agreement
my words long to fill and object
i'm not asking for too much
i just want you to know
my back isn't spacious
my arms aren't made of steel
my face isn't built of stone and promises
for your words and actions to take in
i'm not something that is resourceful
i fall and i shatter
and i'm drowning from everything
you take and take and take

picture it:
two girls, hand in hand.
picture the first as a happy girl,
vibrant even.
she laughs and jokes constantly,
gives compliments, and offers support.
always the shoulder to lean on,
and has the nice remarks when you need them.
she walks for you, acts for you, always sees your problems for you.
never gives up until there's a smile on your face.
she's got her problems,
but she would never show it on hers.
she's invincible and you can see it too.
now see the second girl:
she's fragmented,
split constantly.
always screaming against a box of glass
no-one bothers to turn their head towards.
imagine the piercing of the cries,
the depth of her voice.
the night accompanies
the softness of her face
and the rivers of her tears.
her chest digs deeper inward
and the weights on her body crush her harder
than she thought was possible.
she wonders if it all will eat her alive,
and not one person will notice her absence in the world.
would you believe me
if i told you both girls were the same?
would you realize
that the girl who's fierce, bright, and always strong
is screaming for someone to notice she isn't?

the world broke my body in half
opened stitches with the rustiest of needles
drowned me in seas of my own water
spat at me with words from the worst of speakers
killed me until i was nothing
so
i walked away ****** and bent.
sewed the wounds again with my hands
breathed wisps of air when i made it back to shore
crushed the last syllables into the pavement
revived the last of my soul

i survived on my own
the world can take some
but it can't *t a k e  i t  a l l

the loneliness of my soul,
the pit in my heart,
the dark matter in my chest;
it's dug itself in my body
and made a home for itself,
deeply and comfortably.
i fear it will never leave,
no matter the attempts to make it go.
no matter the space,
regardless of time.
despite the bodies that fill it,
or my endless trials to push it away.
i fear
i've welcomed it like an old friend
rather than faced its personal immensity.
maybe i'm a culprit in my loneliness.
maybe i've held on as much as i've wanted to let go.
and that's what i fear most.

in a moment
typically reserved for peace
after the blaze of a storm,
i find the comfort i lost to the wind.
i sit in stillness after the crashes.
i stay serene without fear of the earth shaking again.
i am content after what has come.
i was driven into the dark
and i couldn't see my way out while i was in,
but now i'm here
and i'm okay.
i may not be in the next moment,
the next minute, or the next time the storm calls for me.
but i'll be here,
and i can count on that single moment
to bring the calm back to the chaos.
if i remember that before i'm swept away again,
i'll be fine.

no words / no actions / no thoughts
can change the pain of the past.
we can try to erase each piece of it all,
but in the end,
we are born from what has hurt us.
however...
we can find a place to start
and rise against the hurt,
the tears, and the memories
that have threatened to break us.
it isn't an easy feat,
and i would be naive to say it is,
but each morning says hello to me
with a chance to step forward.
and i would rather move with the odds against me,
than sit and watch them destroy me
along with what i can't let go.

it's funny how one song messes with your equilibrium
the previous space you were in, the immensity of time.
the chords, the verses, the lines.
your brain and the magic behind the sound
have come to ruin you and tap into your soul,
so beautifully/unapologetically/painfully.
"don't think twice is alright" has it's own magic.
it's a 1963 breakup song,
but somehow the lyrics have seeped deeper into my skin
and taken claim of emotions my brain has slowly buried for me.
good thing the lyrics manage to dig them back up for me.
you could've done better, but i don't mind.
when hearing dylan's voice, a harmonica, and a couple guitar stings,
i didn't expect thoughts of personal loss, regret, and abandonment
to come up, loud and demanding to be heard.
then again, music holds a power
nobody's mind could break down and bottle.

i'll wait,
sitting in the dark,
hoping for your light to shine
in the deepest corners of me.
i'll want,
yearning for the touches of your hands,
your lips, your body against my own.
i'll wish,
dreaming you'll encompass the empty space
of my mind and soul.
waiting, wanting, wishing,
for you and only you.
so make
my anticipations, my wants, my wishes
come true.

if your voice was a song,
you wouldn't make it to the Top 40.
if your soul was the sea,
it wouldn't be more than a foot deep.
if your heart was a pen,
the ink would be dried out
before you could jot down a word.
if your being was glass,*
it would be broken and swept away by now.
but
i can hear the melody in the cracks;
i can feel the waves in the shallow tide;
i can read the sentences you're trying to write;
i can pick up the shards if you're willing.