on a hot summer day of popsicles and cantaloupes
we're on the asphalt playing tag and pushing swings;
my pigtails bouncing from skippers and jump ropes.
i'm wearing suspenders and a bow tie
and you're in a baby blue dress with sunflowers in your hair
and there are gems in the corners of your eyes.
we're walking across balance beams and meeting halfway
but the sound of 80s music blaring
from the windows of my mother's voice is calling me away.
i look into the young sunshine in your eyes that lured me to stay.

on a rainy spring day of dr. seuss books and board games
we're under a blanket fort making shadows and telling secrets
with our minds getting so lost in stories until we forget our names.
i'm clenching my pink teddy bear, in love, yet in fear,
and you've glow sticks and their light in your hands
let's dance and go crazy, you whisper in my ear.
we're singing into hairbrushes and playing dress up
but the sound of the doorbell ringing
from your father's door taunts us, saying we obsess too much
but we don't care.
you kissed me for the first time and i knew without it i'd be messed up.

my hips ache for her arms around them.
my hands tremble for her hands to hold them.
my cheeks burn for her lips to kiss them.
my knees stumble for her feet to guide them.

my head falters for her shoulders to ease it.
my heart hungers for her love to feed it.

you led me to a field of baby pink clouds
with fairy lights in your stomach
and sunflowers wrapped around your thighs;
you were radiating like magnesium on fire.
you could drive across the oceans
or fly underground if you wanted.
you held the light in your hands
and your toes tingled with happiness.
we laughed with red velvet poppies,
cried with lavender-scented blades.
i stopped laughing,
stopped crying;
you had stopped laughing too,
but you were still crying.

the sunflowers that kissed your thighs
were beginning to wilt with doubt
and seeped into your skin,
and the fairy lights that shined in your stomach
burned you to death from the inside,
leaving you feeling nothing.

i sang songs of hope into your lungs
in attempt to revive you,
but you had buried yourself six feet underground
and left your friends three feet through.
i didn't give up though.
i refused to give up.
i sang songs of hope
until they became cries for help.
i was so desperate to keep you in one piece
that i had fallen and shattered into millions of pieces,
yet i shoved the shards into my mouth
and kept them under my tongue
while you told me
that you admired how strong and carefree i could be.

the thing is, dear melisa,
it's hard to tell others not to worry,
     when you yourself worry.
it's hard to convince others to live to see another day
     when you don't even know if you can make it out alive.
it's hard to stay standing strong
     when you feel like everyone around you is falling.

i cried for help
for you.
i cried because
i wanted you
to be able
to feel again.

silk flows from the left side of the mountain
as we walk along the shore with our fingers intertwined.
there are carnations growing from the slits in your wrists
and daisies dripping from the dagger you found in the clouds.
flashes of loneliness fill the decaying spaces,
alluring you to stab your vertebrae
and leave with tomorrow's sunrise in your pocket.
ocean waves crash into all four corners of the darkness  
that sang lullabies into your iridescent lungs.
the berceuses grow shards of glass under your skin
that you use to shave your cotton candy hair
and watch the sky fall with it.
you're laughing with the wind
at your shattered bones and imploded organs,
daisy-dagger in hand.
yellow paint spills from your lips
as you play with turtle shells and shark heads
that haunt my mind for centuries.
you whisper to the hollow valleys as
your summer laughs turn into winter cries.

i want to fix you.
for you i will carve the tumor out of your chest
with the same shards of glass you used to cut your tangled locks.
i will shelter you in a makeshift umbrella of my body
if it meant the toxic rain wouldn't seep into your veins.
for you i will gather the stars in your hourglass of worries and regrets
so there will be nothing but light after the darkest of times pass.

there are carnations growing from the slits in your wrists
and we're walking along the shore with our fingers intertwined
as silk flows from the left side of the mountain.

she sings
in the summer rain.
hear the lyrics
within her amethyst heartbeat
as she reaches
for your lavender locks.
the rhythms
within your rhapsodic bones
stand a little straighter
with every stroke, every strum.
the chords of crystal chrysanthemums
cascade through your veins
as her delicate songs
draw dimples into your amygdala.
her melodic nostalgia
mesmerizes the matutinal lights,
her battles inspire instrumentals
into your branches.
you'll find twisted tempos
at the foot of her talents
and come to admire
the a cappella hegemonies
that hum into her aortas.

SHE* used to be innocent and young and pure
but SHE had no idea about the pain SHE would endure.
ten years in the same school, pre-k to eighth
SHE was the teacher's pet, popular, and always got straight a's.
SHE was the eldest daughter of a family of five,
never dared to touch fire or stroke the blade of a knife.
everything was perfect, or so SHE thought,
but seventh grade was when SHE became distraught.
boys chased after her and dared each other to ask her out,
but between impatient teachers and drama queens, SHE couldn't tell what any of it was about.
SHE was caught up in drama that trapped her in a dome
but the real trouble was going on at home.
her father worked alone, and finances made him stressed
but her mother stayed home, not knowing of the tumor in her chest.
SHE begged her mother to see someone, even though SHE knew
that her mother would keep holding it off and saying, "soon".
in eighth grade, SHE was distracted by high school and her future life,
as was her father, though he should've paid more attention to his wife.
after her mother's birthday, SHE received news
that the tumor in the woman that raised her grew.
SHE felt heartbroken, an invisible pain in her chest,
but SHE didn't think SHE could possibly hurt more than her mother's breast.
months passed by, SHE was still looking for schools,
unaware of the fact that her dreams were to be overruled.
SHE aimed high, dreamed to board in new york,
but better opportunities knocked at her door.
more months passed, and SHE got a grip on the rope,
and her mother's cancer was removed, giving the family hope.
now SHE lives in a place SHE feels that SHE belongs
with friends that feel like family, that made her strong.

all was well, SHE had faith within her
until the night of thanksgiving dinner.
her mother was to drive, but was in so much pain, her mother cried,
and when SHE asked if her mother was okay, the only response SHE got was "i'm fine".
her mother did her best to swallow the pain
until SHE and her father brought her to the doctor again.
exactly a year after her mother was diagnosed with breast cancer,
SHE thought it would be over, but SHE received an opposing answer.
another tumor was developing from an escaped single cell
now in her mother's liver, and SHE felt her life turning to hell

again.

and while wondering where SHE should've been, ran into the embrace
of a woman (SHE considered her big sister)
who gave her the love SHE needed, and SHE felt safe

until her mother died eleven days later.

SHE'd never felt pain any greater.
SHE'll never forget seeing her mother in that **** hospital bed,
hoping it was all just a big, bad nightmare, and her mother wasn't actually dead.

SHE wanted a distraction, craved laughter and pleasure
but SHE was being followed around by her drunken uncle, and that scared her.
SHE tried to ignore him and her camera in his hand
tried walking away, thinking it was a simple thing SHE could withstand.
SHE fought back tears whenever he touched her and called her baby;
SHE couldn't see, couldn't run, couldn't scream, because everything felt hazy.

weeks passed, SHE returned to school and felt like SHE was getting better
with the help of her friends and her mother's sweater.
but even when in the focus of her friends and in the arms of her big sister,
SHE always thought about her mother, SHE obviously missed her.
SHE became scared for her family, future, and her sexuality
and these worries slowly killed her and messed with her mentality.
within that time, SHE fell in love,
something SHE felt deprived of.
time with the girl SHE loved felt rushed and abrupt
and SHE starting thinking SHE wasn't good enough.
SHE overthought whatever came to mind,
leading to an anxiety that cried her eyes dry.
now SHE lives in fear of worries sneaking up behind her back;
now SHE waits for the next attack.

SHE had her life flipped upside down,
SHE had smiles that turned into frowns.
SHE feels like her world is out of control.
SHE feels her life slowly stolen from her soul.

hear the chime
of the cold constellations
that guide you
at 2:56 in the morning.
taste the worries of tomorrow
overflowing from your mug,
spilling onto your lap
of glitching faces,
distorting your body
into millions of pixels.
touch the signals
from the suicidal satellites
dictating your amygdala
in a requiem
of the winter dawn.

you lay
in a bed of clouds
under blankets
of anxious thoughts.
blue volcanoes
spew out violet insults
telling you
that you won't make it
past the milky way,
so you burn your fingertips
trying to reach for the sun
in hopes
that it will prove those indigo offenses wrong.
third-degree burns
**** your senses
and leave you
feeling nothing.
seeing nothing.
being nothing.
you look up to the sky,
eyes dripping with desperation,
only to find
that the man in the moon
left you
for another life.

and
suddenly,
at 2:57 in the morning,
you realize
that orion doesn't seem so bright to you anymore.

you asked for 15 minutes
to play with clear glass marbles
and grieve in it;
but instead twirled with dragons
in a clever patchwork and
a rodeo in your bandwagon.
light killed you on a crucifix
auditioning to give your spirit a lift;
started it all when you were six.
rented a loft to store your tears
hide hair ribbons in nail holes
that have been dead for thirty years.
you wanted to release hammers between sets
but you were stuck making french fries in coffee shops
and you hadn't told your husband yet.
now the clock reads eight and you're on your knees,
praying to saint margaret,
begging her to cut your cheek.

you took the shards of glass
          cutting my hands
                    and turned them
                              into flower petals.

silence is a lullaby
this gentle song
pours from our mouths
filling the space
of ethereal love between us.

your hand sifted through the typed pages
as if you were discovering
each word
for the first time.
ink poured from our mouths
as we whispered haikus
into the depths of novels and scripts.
you unraveled the cursive in my hair
and wove your accents and characters in instead.
fill in the spaces in my book that are left unwritten
with every idea,
every thought
that fills your head,
and i'll turn them into something beautiful.

the lilacs dripping from your lips kiss the sky and make the clouds sway under your spell. your laugh creates a kingdom of liliums and lavandulas. the world turns and the sun shines, all for you. but suddenly you remember.

you remember things you promised yourself you wouldn't.

the lilacs are replaced by wilting roses with thriving thorns. they puncture the sky as the clouds unite to protect the heaven you're trying to destroy.

and your garden becomes an abyss. i'm not sure how far down it goes (maybe six feet deep) but somewhere in the depths of your despair lies your innocence.

you had stuffed your mouth with stained glass
in hopes that they would block out
the dull and muted words you spoke
(and replace them with colorful vocabulary),
but stained glass isn't opaque.

the girl with the blue heart
waits by the bus stop
hoping someone would come and take her away.
a tumor had formed in her chest
from when she got drunk on stolen love.
she reeked of liquor, anxiety, desuetude,
and the fear that she may never be loved.

the girl with the blue heart
wasn't always like this;
her heart was once golden
with forest green streams running through her veins.
geraniums and chrysanthemums adorned her face
and kissed her lips like milk and honey.

now the girl with the blue heart
speaks with a mouth full of cobwebs
and the never-ending desire
to crawl six feet deep into the ground.
her caesious fingertips
chased maladies down the boulevard
until she reached dead ends.

the girl with the blue heart
craves nothing more than nepenthe,
melatonin,
and a place to call home.