just a few short words
and i’ve already made a promise to myself,
a promise that,
this time,
i will not rush into things so quickly.
i will not share my words,
make brash declarations,
open this heart that’s been guarded for
so long.
i will take things slowly,
feel out the situation,
and let what happens,
happen.

i'm trying hard to
believe in love but
i held my sister while she
fell apart in my arms because
her lover of eight months suddenly told her that
he didn't love her anymore,
and i'm not sure how many times i can stitch her back up
before the cuts are too deep
to be sewn.
i'm trying hard to
believe in love but
my best friend has had her heart broken
too many times to count,
feeble-minded fuckboys or
temperamental tantrums because
she didn't love them back and they decided to
cut all ties.
never once did she get an apology.
i'm trying hard to
believe in love but
every single one of my past
flirtationships
have ended in loss
one way or another,
him or me-- it doesn't matter how
because
i'm still alone.
i'm trying hard to
believe in love but
in a world like this,
it's hard to hold onto something
so fleeting.

it's not that i'm depressed.
it's just that i've become incapable of being optimistic,
lost the ability to believe in empty cliches like
"it will get better."
it,
this mysterious pronoun has had a year and a half
to get its **** together,
to get better.
it hasn't been able to tell me
what the hell is going on in my brain.
it's not that i'm depressed.
it's just that my thoughts are smoke rings swirling around my head
clouding my vision,
tainting my decisions,
inhibiting my inhibitions.
it's hard to see the light when the spectrum is in
black & white,
the same monotone colors like
the dimness of my phone screen as
grey tears fall on it, dissipating
the smoke rings around my head.
it's not that i'm depressed.
it's just that sometimes i stand in the shower with
the water so hot i can
just
barely
take it but
isn't that the irony of it anyways?
the only time i can feel,
the only time i can breathe
is when i'm being drowned in a torrent of hell-water.
don't worry, satan approves of my
misgivings.
it's not that i'm depressed.
it's just that my words clot in my veins like stones
jabbing at my insides to be let out,
crawling up my throat,
begging,
no--
demanding
to be let out or else.
or else what? you may ask.
well the answer is or else
i may never see the sun again,
i may never smile that smile
so many say could light up a city.
it's not that i'm depressed.
just maybe a little sad
sometimes.

i am learning to love myself
like he never could
and darling
i can feel flowers
growing from my scars
reaching for the sunshine
of my new found smile

s.s

“but i miss him.”

and what can you say to that?
there are no words that can come from
your lips
that will make her forget
the taste of his.