No, it is is not okay
To string him along like Christmas lights
And then leave him hanging there
To burn himself out before the coming spring has the chance to keep his fire alive

18 years
216 months
6568 days
157632 hours

And in all that time
I have been alive
But I never lived

they tell me the raised marks on my skin are an overgrowth of scar tissue
and i wonder why both my mind and my body will try so aggressively to cover up a past wound that it just becomes another

'I have a girlfriend now'

Don’t react.
This is what you wanted.
This is what I wanted..?
This was what I wanted..
This was what I told him I wanted..
This was..
was this what I wanted?
It has to be
It is the only way I won’t scream
Or cry
Yes, this is what I wanted.

'She's pretty, congratulations'

It feels like my soul has been
Ripped apart
Clawed out
And dragged away

But that can't be right
Because I never had one in the first place.

It is the delicate shell of a robin's egg right before it hatches.
It is the explosion of bubbles as you dive headfirst into a pool.
It is Cinderella's dress as she danced unafraid for the very first time.
It is the sky in sunny California, interrupted only by palm trees.
It is the burst of berries in your mouth to cool you against the summer heat.
It is the wave that kisses the shore no matter how many times it's sent away.
It is the glitter of sapphires, dug up as we asked the earth for its secrets.
It is Van Gogh, who so loved the world he'd rather leave than cause it any pain.
It is the uniform of those who protect us by sea and will drown for our freedom.
It is the unexplored depths of the ocean.

So maybe,
just maybe,
it isn't such a bad thing to feel this blue after all.

--a.y., “Even the Civil War hurt less people than I have.”

He's beautiful

But I am terrified
Because I fear that I may be in love with who he could be
Rather than who he really is

my mind is a mess that i refuse to clean because it is the only way i know where everything is
unfinished thoughts piled on a chair to be dealt with neve–“later”
ugly memories shoved to the back of the closet in an attempt to pretend they don’t exist
half-baked ideas scattered on the desk, waiting to be made
random items pinned to the wall that will soon either connect together or be thrown out
and pizza everywhere

--a.y., "If love is a fair game, why am I always losing?"

his name sounds like almost
and i can’t help but imagine sometimes what would have happened if we had met earlier,
before i knew what i needed

it feels like he is a step i skipped
and even though i reached my destination,
i still wander back and wonder i missed
what lovely vista points i never got to see

if people were buildings, he would be a cabin in the woods
not a home, but a place to run and escape to
a warm fireplace smile with happy memories perched on the mantle
a comfortable silence to rest in

but relationships are not vacation houses
and we are not right for each other no matter how many times i ask what if.

his name sounds like another time, another place, another life
but not this one

The image in the mirror may last you a little while
But I promise I’ll always be here to say that
You look like poetry when you smile.

the tortoise and the hare - but there is no race, only life

the hare lives in the fast lane
smart, witty, successful
knows only how to travel at top speed
hopping from great opportunity to greater opportunity
but still wants to be with the tortoise so it runs back now and then

the tortoise moves too slowly
hides in its shell too much
takes too long to understand things
and is not made for a world that demands speed and competition and winning
it loves the hare, but because of that, will not stop it from dashing to the spotlight it was meant to be in

so tell me how to resolve this conflict
because the hare cannot keep moving backwards, and the tortoise cannot keep watching it leave

Darling, if this were a contest
Of who could hate themselves most
I’m well into the danger zone
And you’re not even close.

I'm sorry for the clawmarks trailing down your chest and the bruises spreading across your wrists. I've just been broken for so long that I don't know how to be with someone who isn't.

The only absolute truth I know is that getting everything you've ever wanted is just a precursor to losing it all.

Each moment
She constructs hundreds of different realities
Each one better than the last
And all of them better than the truth.

The one thing stronger than my desire to die
is my fear of leaving you lonely
And I’m scared that someday, it won’t be enough.

you miss me in the way someone might miss their arm
but I miss you in the way they'd miss their liver
and mine is in already bad shape; despite the name, I still feel like dying

if relationships were seasons, they'd call us autumn
because every moment, I'm falling behind or you're leaving
either way, it is a relentless race to bleak and barren ending