she sat in the pew,
lip between her teeth.
"what a way to end a year,"
she thought,
blue eyes closed to the world.
there were no wedding bells
in this church, not today.
they read eulogies instead
of vows and shed
tears rather than rice.
a funeral for the year.
many people gathering to
say goodbye to the good times
and the bad times.
tears, maybe even laughs,
for the year that ends itself.
time turns years into suicide
and funerals turn strangers
into desperate friends.
casket closed,
dressed in black,
what could you lose?
except everything.
no one knows what'll
happen when those doors open
and the sunshine floods in.
not knowing what the next
year will bring,
what people or conflicts.
if you'll even make it out alive.
the safest place you'll ever be
is the funeral for a year.
with everything closing,
just for a moment,
you know what to expect.
that's the beauty of finality.
all you know is that room,
death, and what finite tastes like.

last week a man took my picture,
his grin stretched ear to ear.
i glanced over and mirrored with
a smile like cheshire cats,
and he took another.
i wonder what brought him
to our table,
to me.

last week a man drew my picture,
his mouth set rigid in focus.
i noticed his anonymous glances
but i carried on my way,
not knowing who the girl his pen
was putting on paper was.
it wasn't until i passed
and they told me our bangs
were the same and she
wore glasses like mine
that i recognized her.
me.

there's something about strangers
anonymously immortalizing you
in art that makes you realize
how empty your eyes are.

i'm holding you
cupped in fragile hands,
a frail little bird
in frail little fingers.
i can never hold too tightly,
because my grip might not
be strong enough
and even if i could
little bird bones
are tender little things.
and it doesn't make sense
because i hate birds so much
but i love you more
than words could ever say.
and then i think of that time
when i was a little girl
and that baby bird sat on my deck
and it didn't chirp
because it was dead
so i didn't know it was there,
and i stepped on it's tender
featherless wings
and it crunched under my foot.
and viscera spilled out
in reds
and blues
and yellow
and i cried
and cried
and cried.
and even though it was dead
inside already,
i was so afraid i would
be the one to hurt it again.
and it's kinda like that.
so excuse me if
i hold you too tight some days.
and excuse me if
sometimes my fingers are too loose.
i have my reasons,
they're there.
please, just please
sing loud enough to let me know
that you're still alive,
even if it's only a little bit.
and i'm so, so sorry
if i ever crush you.
i never meant to.

they say you can't fall in love in just one summer,
but you can
Fall.
they say in winter, everything dies,
but does that include
heart strings?
they say in spring, it is all renewed.
but can you make it to a
year?
they say you have three months until it expires,
but what if you simply
refuse?
they say hearts can't live forever,
but i'll prove them all wrong
with you.
they say there's a heaven and hell,
but i'd die just to wake in the nothingness
by your side.

don't ever think that,
if the opportunity arose,
that i wouldn't take
a bat to your teeth.
you may not care
but every word is about you.
every curse on my lips.
"cross my heart,
i hope you die."
you may not care,
but just so you know,
when your life goes to ****
i'll be there to cheer the fuckery on.
you deserve every tear that hits your pillow.
i hope your parents hate you
[more than they already do].
i hope he dies.
i hope every night
when you try to sleep
nightmares haunt you.
and we both know you'll
never make anything of yourself.
you'll forever be nothing
more than a two-faced *****.
you're nothing
more than a thorn in my side.
the buzzing in the back of my mind.
so you can sleep soundly tonight.
i'll be waiting for the night you scream.

my heart is a hurricane,
hysterical with emotion.
my stomach is clenched,
bracing against the feeling of
all the butterflies I've ever felt,
dead and decomposing among gastric acids.
but my face is calm,
and my breathing is steady.
and my body feels like it's
tearing apart at the difference.

i don’t know if i’ll ever be able to listen to that song again.
but i know i found the perfect song for you,
and i’m not sure i’ll ever tell you what it is.
knowing me,
you’ll find out someday soon.
but for now,
this is my secret.