He does not make me whole
He does not complete me
I am not empty when he is not around

But there is a light inside of him...
Innocence.
Hope.
A spark of life.

He is my guide.

I am finding the missing parts of myself
I had thought were long gone.
I am rising,
Rebuilding,
Recovering.

I am remembering  how to
be alive again
I am remembering how to
love myself
And forgive myself

I am remembering who I am

I am starting to realize
That life is not as beautiful
or romantic
as I had always imagined.
I am growing in sadness.
I am growing up.
I think this is what my mother
tried to warn me about.

What I would give
To crawl inside your brain,
Lay next to your dreams,
And sleep with your soul.

Dark thorn
embedded deep in bone,
Attached to old vines
That curl around my broken ribs.
No longer embraced tightly
Like lovers.
No longer leading to flowers
That once bloomed at my heart.
Falling further from the center
With every steady beat,
And whispered sentiment.
No longer.

The soft petals
have withered and dried.
Once-green vines fall away
In rot
Down in some
much darker place
Where there are no pretty things
To see.

I am anger, I am sorrow.

I am heartache.

I want to shatter your bones like glass.

I  want to hear you scream apologies like there is acid in the air and forgiveness is oxygen.

I want to break you apart like you broke me until all that is left of you is shaking lips and prayers to God for mercy.

I want you to beg me to come back.

I want to hate you, I want to want to hurt you, but it is always 2am and I still remember the sound of your laughter.