You are on fire
Or you might as well be
Flames lick at your too-thin clothing
The heat more intense than anything you've ever known
And your panic is nothing compared to the sheer pain

All you know is coughing, coughing
Choking on filthy smog
Inhaling poison
Gasping to find an ounce of oxygen
Feeling as if you lungs are about to rip themselves open

And all the while
The wooden structure crashes down
Closing in on your trembling frame
As you watch helplessly
Your vision consumed by blazing scarlet

You are staring into the face of the sun
But this fire brings the opposite of life
Ashes to ashes...
It seems your cremation has already begun.

The ocean is swallowing you whole
It is cold
So cold
Your arms flail in vain for the surface
But your numb legs have stopped functioning
And the fish are deaf to the fear in your eyes

You wish you could follow the bubbles
As they ascend to the patch of light overhead
But the only thing your flooded lungs can do
Is sink
It is a terrifying moment when you cannot even scream

Darkness closes in
Though you can no longer tell
If it is the depth of the sea
Or your dying mind
You
Cannot
Think
Anymo...

The human body is 70% H20
But as you sink down into this watery cradle
You are reminded once again
That even too much of a good thing
Can ultimately be fatal

Free will is a lie
At least that's what the ground says
As it rumbles
And forces your body to revolt
Turning you into
Another helpless victim of the planet's epilepsy

All around you
Screams are cut short
By boulders hurtling at blinding speeds
Collapsed skyscrapers
Canyons that didn't wait for erosion

You try to push yourself back up
Weakly ordering your quaking legs to stand
But even the slightest quiver
Forces you back to your knees

Escape is impossible
When you have been robbed of movement

This is an enemy that won't even let you run

A long time ago
You came from the earth
And now
It has come for you

you said that you saw the universe when I looked at you
but even galaxies have cracks
and I am starting to wonder if my eyes are just black holes
because lately all I seem to be capable of
is seeing light and blinking it away into darkness

breathe.
the clock slowly ticks down to end my twenty first year.
breathe.
i think i was expecting something a little more dramatic. loud music, flashing lights. at the very least a few friends beside me and a strong drink in hand.
breathe.
but maybe i don't need so much excitement anyway; i've had two full decades of it and it's been enough for a lifetime.
breathe.
in fact, i spent most of those years hoping that would be my entire lifetime,
so many times thinking i would die before this day
so many times desperately wishing i would die before this day.
breathe.
so maybe tonight's spectacle will just be the first breath i take to begin the rest of my life.
maybe it will be the fact that i choose to breathe at all.

...

breathe.
i am still here.
breathe.
i know now that wanting to die doesn't mean you hate life. and loving life doesn't mean you have to be scared of dying.

breathe.
i must keep reminding myself again and again that i am loved despite the fact that i'm alone on the couch with nothing but a blanket for company.
breathe.
the smiles of my friends flash before me one by one, loosening the knot in my chest.
breathe.
i know the planet is beautiful, but god, it cannot compare to the sound of my friends laughing, as if their joy were weightless. carefully, i stitch pieces of it into a patchwork umbrella for the next rainy day.
breathe.
i have looked love in the face and i am slowly thawing.

breathe.
i see again every time i fell on my face, every time i pushed someone else down trying to get up, every clenched fist and tightened jaw.
breathe.
i have had to fight too hard to get here. but i guess that really means i learned how to take punches and maybe throw one back every so often.
breathe.
my knuckles are constantly bruised and my skin scars too easily. i am not allowed to forget the hell i've dug my way out of, and i am thankful. it makes the sun feel a little warmer every morning.

breathe.
lately i've been speaking a little too quickly, tripping over words like the world's clumsiest track runner. there is too much going on in my head to keep up with my mouth.
breathe.
and is my voice too loud because people are complaining about how i can't whisper, also everyone else needs to talk so should i just stop now...
breathe.
...no, this is still a hundred times better than when i never spoke at all.

breathe.
i am learning how to gently fall asleep in an empty bed
breathe.
more importantly, i am learning not to call the bed empty when i'm already in it.

breathe.
it seems i have reached the age when my grade school self thought i'd be an adult with everything figured out. she is yet another person i have disappointed.
breathe.
still, i am slowly realizing that no one else really knows what they're doing either. and that's okay.

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

i. (kc) was the catalyst
the first to convince me that I could be loved
and the only one to make me believe I was capable of loving back
...for about two weeks.

ii. then (jt) arrived
popular
suave
and dorkily crushing on the one girl who couldn't return his affections.
but it wasn't until the first time I heard my name and 'beautiful' in the same sentence
that i realized there might be faultlines in my heart
shaking the love out of my body like lunch money from a scrawny kid's pockets.

iii. the first time i broke someone
the process was anything but (sl)ow
and it was then that i realized
i was getting too comfortable sleeping with regret, curled up like a black cat beside me.

iv. fortunately for me
(je) had 20/20 vision.
he saw through the mask, forced me to face myself until i couldn't help but punch my own reflection
and though his words almost convinced me that i could be saved
his empty stare reminded me that i wasn't worth the trouble.

v. looking back, the initials should've warned me
that he would be the (ss) to our sinking ship,
that we were fated to drown.
but he was coldstronghard as metal
and it took me a two years, one month, and one day
to learn that even silver can be tarnished.

vi. the name was fitting, i guess.
(jr) was finer than any greek hero
and were he a god, I would've named the planets after him too.
he was as reckless as the roman empire
scratching himself on the thorns of my soul just to find something worth saving.
was it because of compassion or guilt or shame
that I put Ariadne's string in his hands
so he could navigate his way out
and run for his life.
maybe it was because
I was so used to the echoes in my head
IendeditIendeditIendedit
that through the tears, I still managed to smile at the words
he ended it.

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.

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

To myself five years ago:

In five years, you will notice that your poetry has gone flat
because it has been too long since you last let yourself taste sadness.

Please, don’t try to hold back the power of the ocean in your eyes.

Let yourself panic, let yourself drown, let yourself scream until you choke on your frustration
so that when you finally resurface, the sunlight will look like God and the tidal waves nothing but a lullaby.

I’m not saying it gets better
I’m saying that it doesn’t matter.

Because in five years, you will realize that pain was the universe’s way of reminding you that you still wanted to live.

Do not run away like I did or become the corpse that I am.
I cringed away from love so many times I lost my nerve endings.

No, don’t follow in my footsteps.
Or else in five years, you’ll hate yourself for your apathy
and wish you cared enough to do more than just write a letter to your old self about it.

"Pluto is not a planet because it’s too small"
is a hard pill I refuse to swallow
Not out of sentiment or nostalgia
Or a stubborn resistance to change

No
I refuse because it sounds too much like
“Children are not important because they are too young.”
“Blacks/Latinos/Asians/Native Americans are not human because they have the wrong skin color.”
“Physically/mentally/emotionally disabled people are not worth are time because they understand truth differently.”
“The LGBT community are not worthy of decent treatment because they love wrong (as opposed to those who do not love at all).”
“Women are inferior because they aren’t—sorry, ‘don’t have’ *****.”

The narrow mindset behind Pluto’s exile
is the same discrimination that causes and comes from the war on terror
The same hatred that has prevented thousands from marrying and killed off millions
The same blind power that allocates almost half of the world’s resources to less than ten percent of the population

So I will not sit tight as you try to tell me that individuality is important
While your actions show me that difference is death
I promise that we will unite and attack and endure
Destroying your reign of fear until there’s finally nothing left

july is ticking away
and i feel a little overwhelmed
no, scratch that, i just feel lonely
maybe because it's the second full moon of the month but i have no one to watch it with
not to mention that the clouds chose today of all days to return
it seems like some crept into my brain too
...these swirling thoughts no longer make sense
i think i really need a drink
for the moon is not the only one feeling a little blue tonight

I stumble
Tripping over knotted roots
Slashing my shins across thorns
Panting from sheer exhaustion
Tasting the salty burn of sweat on my lips
Collapsing under the pressure
Crushing dead leaves underfoot…

…and all sense of hope.

How did I get here?
And more importantly, how do I get out?

Only you can save me from the this wilderness
This desolate abyss
Reach out
Please
You owe it to me

For I got lost here searching for you.

The lines on your skin tell stories, my dear
And if they could speak
They would speak of the pain
Of the loneliness and heartache and betrayal
Of the emotions that came too strongly or never at all

Of the blood that fell like tears when your eyes ran out

But the scars are quiet now
As silent as you were when you refused to cry for help

Please
Let me read the words on the pages of your skin
The unfinished thoughts and the sentences cut short

So I can finally finish them
And give you the happy ending you think you don’t deserve

it always saddened me how LA was the city of angels but no stars
and the only ones in vegas were around the heads of men with too much *****
even new york, home of countless celebrities, hid its constellations
because it seems the more light we try to produce, the more of it we lose

so i instead chose to fight and count against the night
while the heavens moved and i moved with it
wondering if i could outrun time
and stay in this canvas: pin-pricked, diamond-studded, backlit

but alas, dawn still threatens to swallow the sky
though i have only reached one hundred forty three so far
they said it was impossible, so i heard let's do it
come quickly and join me, for i am counting the stars

i have heard people compare love to sand castles
beautifully temporary
eroding slowly then all at once into the unforgiving sea of reality

but you were a lightning strike
charging headfirst into me in hopes of finding balance
and a way to stay grounded
you kissed me and i burned-
the scattered fragments of me rushing back into each other
melting then cooling, a temper quicker than my own

now i am sea glass, smoothed down to crystal clarity
impure particulate grit with clenched jaw, teeth grit
fighting weather i can stand or whether i cannot

i tell you this to explain that i will not fade away or dissolve
my heart permanently branded with the imprint of your hand
my chin held high in testament to the truth that your fire can create

but if i am dropped, it will be impossible to pick up the pieces

I can't quantify the eternity I've spent in your arms
but my calendar defines it as
four weeks of sleepless nights and waking up without regrets
thirty one days of memorizing the lines of your chest and the rhythm of your racing heartbeat
seven hundred hours of laughing at nothing, simply because my overflowing happiness needs to spill out somewhere
forty five thousand minutes that I couldn't imagine spending with anyone else but you

but time is a funny concept in many ways

because I could spend seven days without leaving your side and the lightest touch of your hand would still make my knees grow weak,
because there is something terrifying about the thought of being apart for more than 24 hours that puts me in a hopeless daze,
because sixty minutes of listening to you talk is enough to convince me that I'll never settle down until we can call the night sky ours,
because a mere sixty seconds in your arms can make even the universe seem minute.

but even though its been more than two and a half million seconds
every morning you are always the first thing on my mind

i. you are one in 7.4 billion.
ii. if life handed me lemons, i would make you lemon bars instead.
iii. i used to think you would be the only thing I'd see in a crowded room, but you were the one who pointed out the way the light burst through the window and the tiny pieces that kept the building from falling apart.
iv. you are not the silver lining but the cloud, the rain that reminds the flowers to grow."
v. maybe we were a match made in heaven. or maybe we were already ignited, a wildfire burning our names across the sky.
vi. maybe lightning can't strike the same place twice, but your touch keeps telling me that static electricity can.
vii. they said finding someone like you was looking for a needle in a haystack, but i used a magnet instead.
viii. everything happens for a reason, but sometimes that reason doesn't have to be profound. sometimes it's just having someone to eat cereal and watch cartoons with on a lazy saturday morning.
ix. i didn't fall for you. i scaled the cliffside to find where you were painting the stars.
x. love isn't blind; it is seeing someone else clearly for the first time.
xi. when i first met you, my heart didn't skip a beat. it pounded on my ribs like a boxer, spelling over and over, "this is the one. this is the one."

Most people would say that it's cliche
To write a poem about fireworks
On the Fourth of July

It is too
Trite
Overused
Common.
It is unoriginal.

But there is nothing cliche about wonder and awe and magic
Nothing trite about a vast array of colors that you never even knew existed
Nothing overused about the feeling of exhilaration as you eagerly await the next supernova
Nothing common about lights so spectacular even thunder has to hold its breath.

And if it is unoriginal
Then I really don't think I care
After all
Just because something is beautiful
Doesn't mean that it has to be rare.

I'm writing this to you at the end of our first day, my legs screaming obscenities at me after all the so-called adventure
And I could tell you about how the dirt and sharp rocks wore out the soles of my feet
How we hiked for six hours off the path and I almost started crying by the fourth
How the trail we 'created' felt like descending into an abyss and crawling back out again
How the wind battered us with sand and the ocean burned our scratched calves

But baby, you should've seen the sky
The way it moved and swelled and changed
First periwinkle fading into a white horizon and hitting the sapphire sea
Then the setting sun that bathed canyons in gold and heat
Until the last rays blended into a clash of purple, pink, and orange

And when the day came to a close, the heavens opened like you wouldn't believe
The night was a pitch-black canvas, torn open by meteors that fell forever in a few seconds
While the stars pricked holes in the swirling shape of the Milky Way
Darling, I swear they danced for us
They twirled and waltzed and tangoed better than we ever could
And through all the splendor, the only thing I kept spending my shooting-star wishes on was you

According to science
a star is just a massive inferno that blazes so intensely
we literally cannot get any closer to one than where we are
My tongue has never caught fire from starlight
but I’d bet against the heavens
that even if I opened wide the next time comets fell like snow
a mouthful of meteorites would not burn as hot as your lips on mine

But some see them as suicidal flames
trying desperately to leave a scar on the galaxies
frantic enough to bleed themselves dry in the process
My greatest fear was always spontaneous combustion
but I have found courage in your touch
and even the sense of urgency as you deepen our kiss
can no longer scare me away

Still others see them as puncture holes in the darkness
letting in light to keep the lonely moon warm in the night sky
And it seems no matter how tightly I squeeze my eyes shut
no matter how carefully I draw the curtains and blow out the candles
I can never escape the image of your impossibly beautiful smile that night
when I came up for air and saw the universe reflected in your eyes

And Dom Pérignon was famous for likening them to the sparkle of champagne
bubbles that danced and burst like magic in his glass
*So kiss me again
Quick before our nonexistent plans go awry
Because there is no way I can go back anymore
now that I have learned what it’s like to fly

I wonder what it is
About
Darkness
Where the only glow comes from a slowly ticking clock
Silence
Where the only noise is the ringing in your ears
Raw emotion
Where the only sanity you have left is spread out across this page

That releases us
And lets the words flow free
Beautiful and pure and unrestrained
To create a masterpiece you’d never thought possible when you were awake.

​Everyone always says
It is the content of a person's character
Not their appearance
That truly counts

But the ocean in your eyes is more beautiful than the storm underneath
And the coffee in your hair shines brighter than its the bitter taste

So I don't care that you'll tear me to shreds
With the thorns on your tongue
And promises you never meant
If you flash me a glimpse of that ivory smile
I swear to be content.

Love should be a contract.
After all, I have already signed away my soul to you
In the hopes that maybe one day
You'll learn to love me too

But it seems
That I am the only tied down
Not the other way around
As I reach desperately for your hand to hold
You brush it aside
Then toss me to the ground

I guess for now, I'll settle for a love unrequited

And though your empty smile will never be enough for me
That won't stop it from making my heart contract painfully.

my body is a crime scene with your fingerprints on everything

bruised knuckles
from punching the wall too many times
that your gentle lips kissed and then said the ugly tiling deserved it

****** nails
from scratching carefully hidden places
that you bandaged with cartoon characters and a lollipop because i was brave for surviving so much pain

blistered feet
from years of running away from self-hatred
that finally healed when you gathered me in your arms and swore to carry me

torn vocal chords
from swallowing words no one was ever interested in
that you trained to whisper and sing and yell, laughing when i lost all sense of volume control

a cracked heart
fragilely held together with caution tape
that you unraveled and stitched up

the violence i have survived is a messy house to clean
but the truth is i was both victim and culprit
while you were just the rescue team

18 years
216 months
6568 days
157632 hours

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

Fake applause
Smiles from strangers
Insincere congratulations

Take that away and I am nobody
All that’s left are white papers
Each claiming I have accomplished something

We spent hours
Whispering secrets to the night sky
Until it muffled the silent echoes
And swallowed our bodies whole

And as he and I lay there
Our faces hugging the dirt
We emptied ourselves of words
Until
Finally
Nothing hurt

I wasn't lying when I told you I was fine
I really did believe it.

Because how could I not be?
With straight teeth hidden behind a mischievous smirk
And emeralds in your irises that burned through the shadows
Your features as fine any Greek hero's

But when you left
The sun seemed to shine a little brighter

Only when I looked back did I realize why
The replayed memories felt rough around the edges
The echoes of your words wickedly sharp
The remnants of your laugh ringing false in my ears

You had choked me with strings so fine I didn't realize you were suffocating me at all
​until your tired arms released me
and my lungs finally tasted the oxygen they hadn't known was missing

i have never known how to love halfway
split between the extremities of
gut-wrenching, soul-consuming, burn-the-world-down passion
and tired apathy
and i would either walk to the ends of the world for you
or not even to the end of the street

maybe that's why i hated goldilocks
for continually reminding me that i've never been 'just right' for anybody
a bowl of cold porridge, a chair three sizes too big
someone you settle for but never really want

maybe, you argue, i should learn to stretch myself more evenly
but i seem to have a problem of only seeing things in black and white
(more often than not, i land on black)

the problem is, i spend most of life in retreat
face hidden behind hair, hands pulled under sleeves, soundproof headphones
shuffling down sidewalks to a soundtrack of alternative music on full blast

but when i give my heart away,
it is not release
like gently unlocking a tabernacle to let the blood breathe
it is artpoetrywar
ribcage torn open, red hands, stains on the bathroom floor
clawing out the fire in my chest
just to hand them the universe on a burnt-out matchstick

i can count on one hand the people i love beyond a doubt
and it takes the same fingers to count how many of them deserve more than my ashy soul
still, my body aches for the other ghosts in my life i want to care more about
so i guess i'm finally learning what my math teacher meant when she said two halves make a hole

It is turtles and frogs that crawl around the rocks, quieter than the lazy stream beside them
It is inch-long caterpillars and the translucent leaves they punch holes in.

It is the light taste of avocados, smooth as cream and refreshing as air.
It is the softness of a freshly mowed lawn between your bare feet,
It is the crisp scent of mint in your tea.

It is the seaweed tangled around your legs as you sprint and fall face first into the waves.
It is the rivalry hanging in the air as you and your friend volley the tennis ball back and forth

It is the glow of emeralds in the darkness of hidden caves.
It is the pine tree sitting in your house, reassuring you that life and joy still exist, even in the barren month of December

I’m trying to conclude with a witty remark, find some clever line to end this
But it seems that even though I can write about it
I really don’t have the luck of the Irish.

Falling in love is a lot like creating glass

It starts with disorder

The confusion of your lost soul
Similar to the rough granules of unrefined sand
That fall through your fingers
And refuse to hold their shape

But the passion begins to build
Just as a spark ignites a searing fire
Blazing in your heart
Like the burning rocks in the oven

Then you
And the stone
Melt

And as you do
You become pure
Tides of love washing away
The brokenness
The chaos
The loneliness
Solidifying the scattered pieces
Into a mountain of radiant crystal
Glorious and sparkling in the scarlet light of the furnace

Ready to be made beautiful.

Falling out of love is a lot like breaking glass

It starts with wholeness

The wonder of pure adoration
Similar to the dazzling sunlight
That streams through the stained window
And makes the colorful shadows dance

But the euphoria begins to plummet
Just as a gentle tap damages crystal
Forming cracks in the fragile relationship
Like the delicate lines running along a trembling vase

Then you
And the jar
Shatter

And as you do
You become a wreck
Flames of heartache burning away
The beautiful memories
The exhilaration
The innocent joy
Smashing the once-solid sculpture
Into a mess of jagged shards
Desperate and pitiful in the looming darkness

No longer beautiful.

you'd think loneliness would feel empty
but it is actually an immovable deadweight that lives right atop my sternum
crushing me into the bed until the numbness creeps into my torso.
it paralyzes my limbs,
shrinking my ribcage until my imprisoned heart isn't strong enough to keep time with the clock anymore

it is violent stillness
my fingers clutching my throat and
wanting to scream so loudly that my timid vocal chords,
so accustomed to mumbling and trying not to be heard,
simply can't accommodate the request
the desperation doesn't rip through my chest like sobs
but silently leaks out the corner of my eye

it is staring at the ceiling and dozing off and waking up and immediately closing my eyes again because i am so tired of remembering that i'm alone

and it is cold, so cold
shivering under three blankets
curling into myself and waiting for the day i am finally strong enough to turn off the vacancy sign on my front door

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

from birth, he is instilled with a fear of weakness.
his mother does everything she can to make him stronger, but never teaches him that he is worth more than the weight of his muscles and the force behind his fist.

he remembers drowning, pain and terror rushing through every nerve in his body, wishing she would let go of his foot so he could just dissolve instead...
then there is light, or as much light as reaches the underworld, and the face of one who did not believe in him enough to let him build his own strength.
you are immortal now, she breathes with an air of the miraculous in her voice,
you cannot die by any type of injury.
well, except one, right here on your heel.

but then, he turns to look at her, doesn’t that mean i am not immortal at all?

he still touches the spot sometimes, at night, feeling an emptiness there that both reassures and terrifies him.
the rest of the time, he wears thick socks and like everyone else, ignores the thought of his mortality.

on his ninth birthday, he is disguised and sent away to spends his days among another’s daughters.
he grows up in love,
and surrounded by compassion, it is there that he learns how to be a real warrior, simultaneously gentle and fierce.
but they come for him in the night, throwing words in his face about prophecies and oracles that go over his head.
it is his destiny to win, they tell him, and he must fulfill it.
duty takes away his choice.

so he fights their battles but shoots the sea to make tidal waves that hide the fact he keeps deliberately missing, lacking the hatred needed to ****.
the first time he hurts someone, he cannot sleep for days, only feeling better when the man comes back and allows him to repair the injury.

in combat, they give him fifty ships to command
but then take his love,
and when he cries in his tent and refuses to leave, they are ashamed of him.
it is only when his best friend is murdered that the fire they wanted from him ignites, consuming his vision in red.
if they seek violence, he yells, that is what they shall have .
once he emerges in full gear, everyone trembles, picturing his anger,
but cannot see that it is loyalty and loss which burn even stronger in him,
more destructively powerful than their petty reasons for starting this war.
years later, when they retell the story of his victory, everyone swears he was completely untouchable

she finds him in the garden when it is all over, watching the flaming chariot just barely climbing over the horizon.
covered in dried blood but no wounds, his body is tense and unmoving,
but when she reaches out to touch him, he flinches and pushes her away.
he doesn’t need her help, he says through grit teeth, he is strong enough to handle it alone,
and to his surprise, she laughs.
you are too young and small to consider yourself atlas, and even that titan had help from heroes. you have lost much, which will not be forgotten quickly or easily. but strength can only be found in facing our weakness and, sometimes, allowing others to carry our burden. if you will let me, i should like to bear yours.

in the silence that follows, she watches the reflection of sunrise in his eyes,
and as the tightness and shadows of his face fall away, she can begin to see through to the child he once was, soft and joyful and a little bit scared.
laying his head in her lap, she uses her hair to wipe the tears that form
and slowly, in the silence under white flags, achilles heals

if they say the more love you give away,
the more you get back
then why do i feel like i've been wringing myself dry
trying to fill up your sponge heart

and you accept each small drop with proper manners
a polite smile, a cordial thank you
but it isn't until i am too empty to stand
that you finally turn back to see how little of me is left
and realize i might need some strength of my own too

it's not like the love isn't there;
sometimes i think i can see the outline of bruises on your chest
because you seem to be all heart with no understanding of how to give it away

then again, i always had this self-destructive need to throw everything i have at anyone who gives me the time of day
so is this just my fault again?
for trying too hard to win you over
i'm sorry, it's only because i feel like i keep losing
to the computer screen
to new ideas for inventions
to more interesting friends
to convenience

and it kills me a little more every time you walk away
knowing the next time i'll see you is when it's practical and can be pencilled into your tetris block schedule

i don't know how much longer i can do this
and i would probably cry more about it but i don't have any energy left

I am the one people talk about in songs and poems written at 2am
Through the blind stupor of heartbreak and rage.

I am the villain that heroes love to defeat
And spectators love to see defeated.

I am the ‘benign’ tumor that will eat its way through your body
Then run away and never look back.

I am the broken promises of forever and always.

It is scary how easily I can let go of things I once thought I treasured.
And it is absolutely terrifying how easily I can destroy people I once thought I loved.

I am the lone defendant in the courtroom
With nobody to speak up on my behalf
Not even myself.

She's nuts, and I keep trying to remind you that you're allergic.

To the only one I still care about:
I have a confession that half of the world's population will condemn, and the other half will romanticize.

I still want to die.

And I hate myself for it. Because with all the willpower in my body, my only wish is that I could love you so much that thoughts of death would never cross my mind again.

But how do I tell you that the reason I don't text back sometimes is because I am drowning myself in loud music and studying and a hundred different clubs
Simply to get my brain as far as possible from the desire for oblivion.

How do I explain that I am running on caffeine-induced smiles and artificial adrenaline
Never stopping for a breath of air that my lungs don't want
And keeping my heart racing to hide the fact that all I want it to do is stop.

How do I reveal that it keeps me up all night, trying to figure out if my greatest fear is losing you or leaving you
And by morning, I am too exhausted to think of anything besides the promise of eternal sleep.

How do I say aloud that you are my world, but even gravity couldn't hold Icarus down when he wanted to fly,
And it's been getting harder and harder for me to keep my feet on the ground too.

How do I admit that I once thought there were monsters in my soul, but now I realize I am one,
And the ones in my veins are simply calling me home.

How do I confess that I have lost the last of my strength in this endless fight
Trying to keep you safe from the fact that I am the darkness and you are the light.

They get to write their name into history
Without ever leaving the safety of the midnight sky

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

i. lately there's been this tight feeling in my lungs like i'm drowning
thoughts of homework, meetings, and most of all, crippling inadequacy
filling up my chest like seawater
but within these metaphorical thunderstorms, you have been the hurricane's eye

ii. there are no right words to convey the utter serenity of seeing the sun light up your face each morning
and nothing feels safer than when i am curled up against you
our bodies intertwining as we shake with quiet laughter

iii. i know i haven't been the easiest person to love
and you've grown a lot these past few weeks, trying to keep me sane
or maybe it's just that you finally get the chance to play protector in the midst of my daily mental breakdowns
either way, you keep proving that you are much too good for me

iv. i'm sorry this is also a preemptive apology
as much as i hate to admit it, i'm scared it's only going to get worse
but i promise i'm really trying

v. i love you so much. my brain isn't creative enough to shroud it in pretty words and nonsensical analogies right now, but i hope you get the idea.

It's true
It is a beautiful, exciting thing when the person you love returns your affections

But I have found it is something else entirely
Something a hundred times more meaningful
When the one who showed you how beautiful words can be
Breathed life into your thoughts
Compiled your most complex emotions into neat little stanzas
And writes like everything you wish you could be

Starts following you on Hello Poetry.

i cannot say 'i miss you' because it's not true.
i miss school dances, excessively fancy dresses, vanilla coke.
i miss saturday morning cartoons and sugary cereal.
i miss playing pretend house and pretend office job, when adulthood seemed as mystical as santa claus.

no, i don't miss you;
i am incomplete without you.
there is something inside me that doesn't fit quite right:
a pit, a cavity, a depression,
that i've tried to fill with fantasy books and sad movies and too much brain space dedicated to song lyrics.
but you are the final piece, the hand that mine fits perfectly into
and when you're gone, i go from being whole to hole.

i don't miss you;
i am completely lost without you.
my mind drifts, wanders somewhere beyond my reach;
normally you are my compass,
my gps,
my worn out map in the glove box,
the back of my hand mapped against the stars.
no matter where or when we are,
you are the only thing that can guide me home.
but now i am sinking at sea with a cloudy sky and no steering wheel.

i don't miss you;
i am broken without you.
some of it is that you make me the full person i can be
instead of the shell i inhabit,
but the larger reason is that i don't see the point in trying to live without you here,
and i don't want to.
it's fitting that we describe it as being apart-
for you are a part of me,
and it's one that i can't survive very long without.

i cannot say 'i miss you' because without you,
there is no i to begin with.

you are endless wordplay recorded over a blank coffeeshop soundtrack. your lips throw out pun after pun, but your throat hums to the ghost of a song you swore you didn't listen to.

you are smiles across the breakfast table, blinking too-little sleep from your too-bright eyes, talking too loudly about how you don't need rest when you can get drunk on life. i laugh quietly. the dark circles give you away, my dear.

you are long nights and warm blankets and repeating "we should go to bed" until it sounds like a joke. it is hard to fall asleep when the blood is singing in my veins and my dreams are coming true right in front of me.

you are soft corners and sharp edges, too strong to stand firm and too fragile to break. your footsteps falter and even your confidence has cracks, but i'll admit it's comforting to know that you're just as scared as i am sometimes.

you are fast-talking and over-explaining, and you never do anything halfheartedly so you are also lying-too-easily. but it's okay i never wanted the truth anyway, i hated how it dimmed the memories and haunted the empty space on my mattress. i like how that space is taken up by the curve of your body instead.

you are called a paradox, white wolf or black sheep, predator and prey at odds and at peace. and you are called downward-flowing, like the way i am falling faster and harder for you. then again, maybe i like metaphors too much. maybe your name is just a name. maybe it's the most beautiful sound i've ever heard.
but i call you love because you are the only reason i have any inkling of what it means.

i am clay mold shapeshifter, sand through your outstretched fingers
and i can be pretty much anything you want
be happy
be calm
be helpful
just don't ask me if i can belong
it hits a little too close to the home i haven't been able to find yet

lately i've been feeling a bit out of place no matter where i turn
a cheap puzzle piece not sanded down quite right
or just forcing itself into things i was never made for

or maybe the truth is that i don't fit in because i have no shape at all
i have become spineless pushover 'just have a ******* opinion for once' doormat under your feet
and i wake up from dreams of a world very similar to this one
where the only difference is that the people there look me in the eyes

but can't you see that the human race is my heartbeat
this fist in my chest is not strong enough on its own
and if it were pumping only for me
it would've stopped a long time ago