when you hear your alarm go off the first time,
and then the second time,
and the third you finally open your eyes to
find yourself surrounded by the same four walls as yesterday -
it's okay if you press snooze again.
it's okay to go back to bed today.

but you don't.

when you're putting on your mascara,
and then your eyeliner,
and all the other crap that makes you feel pretty -
it's okay if you cry it all off.
it's okay to go back to bed today.

but you don't.

when you're putting on your favourite jeans,
and your comfy sweater,
and they just don't fit the same as they used to
because you're not the same as you once were -
it's okay to try something different.
it's also okay to just go back to bed today.

but you don't.

when you're walking down the hallway to your first class,
and then your second one and it's all just as dreadful,
and you can't concentrate on anything other than
just picking up one foot after the other, just getting there -
it's okay to just be present physically for today, if that's all you can manage.
but maybe, it would be okay if you just went back to bed today.

but you don't.

when you get home and your mom calls you for dinner,
once, twice, and three times,
but you're just not hungry and you're not sure you can
keep up the stone face you've been wearing all day -
it's okay to ask her to save some for you to have later.
just go back to bed, just give yourself some room to breathe.

but  you don't.

every day, you fight the same battle.
and if it feels like you're not making any progress,
just remember that you didn't go back to bed -
and you could have -

**but you didn't.

where do you go?
when all the doors have been slammed in your face,
when you  hold on just a second too long,
and you're dragged in by the undertow
in such a deadly embrace,
where do you go?

when your eyes have drained of passion -
the kind that drove you to the fight you never forfeit,
when you lose all you love, and everything you know
where does your broken heart take you then?
where do you go?

when your panic room is exactly how it sounds,
no longer built for safety but for keeping
all your darkness contained within,
letting madness ensue underneath your skin
where the shadows have no bounds.
where do you go?

when you're lost, but you know the feeling
and you know exactly where you are, cause
when in this deadly embrace,
is where we find ourselves -
hiding.

I wanted to write about how much I loved
the way your fingers move quietly down your guitar
as it gently weeps, but I could only remember the way
those same hands left bruises on my body
and left me sobbing at 2am.

I tried to write with ink how  much I missed you,
but I scribe only with spilled blood.
This is what it was, and always will be.

Strum you do, on your guitar so lovingly
and my heart strings too - more reckless with each beat.
Raise the tempo, my heart rate too.

I want to forgive,
and forget the way this music used to move us,
but my love,
I ******* hate you.

what happened to you that burned
a fire in your gut, you look
like you breathed in a forest fire
overnight an forgot how to
exhale anything but ash and dust.
you look to be in pain, like
your lungs are rubbing together
like two pieces of sandpaper.
I can see you need help
to put yourself out, but
I can't get too close
without burning myself.

clever boy, honest heart
a voice of well kept notes, and an unsound mind
in grieving, in loss you sang
never silenced, always tested
songbird, keep on singing.
string each note together as you always have
in beauty and even darkness, you sang
so full of love and life
songbird, keep on singing.
clever boy, broken heart
composing music, but never yourself
songbird, keep on singing
and hiding behind your art.

I fell in love with someone who gave me everything.
He held me closer than I'd ever known, and right there - breathing in his musk, I was not afraid. I was indestructible.
But he didn't love me, and it broke my heart.
People are not safe havens.

I fell in love with someone who took everything.
He left me empty-handed, but with a few scars to show for it. The apologies came in fistfuls, and my forgiveness never did.
He loved me, and it broke my heart.
But people are not prisons, either.

I've had to try and fail at love in a million ways, but you learn to fall apart gracefully.
People are just people,
and you are in control of your life.

Despite every massacre of yourself,
you are still ******* here.
Doesn't that count for anything?

If you're not sure something is right for you anymore, end it.
Leave.
Whether it's a relationship, home, your job or the person you've become —
Just leave.
Nothing leads you down the right path better than missing something,
Or not missing it at all.

In between. That’s what I’ve always been.
In between jobs, in between destinations. In between breaths, heartbreaks — myself and what I want.
Never quite there yet, never too far gone.
Just in between.

That’s the problem with people.
They don’t realize that they exist outside of their own little worlds.
When you broke my heart, did you realize the sound of your voice was already embedded into my memory?
When you kissed her right in front of me, did you know a whole universe collapsed inside of me?

Did you care?

Winter is quiet, but always restless.
Irrevocably cold, and deceitfully burning.
Harsh at times, throwing storms of ice when tempered.
Apologetic, as it stews in silent shame.
Unforgiven, and tolerated.
A season which destroys beauty in order to create a kind of it's own.
Decorated, as if the beauty it created for itself hadn't been enough.

I never liked Winter very much,
but I've come to realize we've got a lot in common.

My whole life I've been lost, and
my whole life they've said, "go home".
I've read enough books and
I've seen more than enough films to know
home isn't always the same place
we retire ourselves to night after night.
So I lay awake -
Is this all there is?

In my dreams, the most beautiful places
in the entire world come alive:
The Pyramids of Egypt,
Grand Canyon,
Even Venice, Italy.
I can taste the adventure,
but I wake into a world with four walls
and no stories to tell.
Is this all there is?

"So travel," they tell me.
"See it all, the big cities and bright lights,
dip your feet in untested waters, go on."
And I've mustered enough courage to
get myself out of bed, to the car
and to brush past all my old friends.
I've got luggage, and a train ticket.
And I've got baggage, and a question:
Is this all there is?

"Board, or go home", the man behind me whines.
"Maybe I'll do both," I mutter,
but I find myself slunk against a wall
waiting for a departed train.
All my life, I've been lost.

Four walls and five words -
and they haunt me every day.
I could travel, I could go home,
but I'd still be lost anyway.
Every inch of the world could be mine,
to touch and to wander.
But what if I had boarded only to find
home was always in these four walls
echoing the same 5 hollow words -
*Is this all there is?

I spent seven days staring at burgundy walls - you always hated the colour I chose.

Day one I tried to cry, to mourn, to breathe. No matter how loud I screamed, you never came back to me.
Day two my throat was raw, and water might have eased me for a moment, but my god there was no cure to the pain of missing you.
Day three I swatted at worried hands and closed my eyes, but I had to keep opening them to make certain the walls weren't really closing in on me.
Day four I whispered my own name a million different times, just trying to find a way I might roll it off my tongue the way you used to.
Day five I forgot the sound of your laughter and I tried so ******* hard to just get across the room, to the phone, maybe if I called you would pick up. Maybe you could just remind me, just once more.
Day six my body burned and I forgot how my front yard looked, but I still couldn't find it in myself to throw my feet over the edge of our - my - bed, and walk outside.
Day seven I still stared at the same four walls, but I noticed how much I loved the burgundy paint, and that I never had to hear your complaints about it again.
Day eight I stood up, despite the aching in my chest and I admired burgundy walls for being a beacon of hope, and of forgiveness, amongst the vast sea of  blame you left me to swim in.

I don't know how many days its been now, but I never did repaint our - my - room.
You're the kind of heartbreak that will always bring  another day one every so often,
But as long as my walls are burgundy, staring at them for seven days will never be too heavy a price for finally freeing myself from you.

It's a strange feeling I can't quite speak aloud.
I can remember your filthy hands and how they moved from the small of my back to the bones of my hips,
I can trace those movements over and over but I can't ever recreate the sparks you ignited in me.
No, your hands were burning and mine are reaching.
I can remember exactly how smooth your voice sounds in my ear at 2am and how your chest moves with every breath you take in your sleep.
I can listen with all intention of hearing you still, for hours, but only silence answers.
No, I'm alone in this bed and you're probably breathing easily.

It's a strange feeling,
Yes, I've been missing you.

Sometimes I miss it.
The uncomfortable seats and the nervous tapping.
Dozens of eyes staring on through.
The panic in a mother's eyes and
How quick feet left a crowded room.
I'm nostalgic for my misery,
Because I knew it so well,
Because it knew me, too.

Comforting is a tragedy,
When it's one you've learned to recite
Day after day, the same practiced smile
Then bleeding it out by my own hand
Night after night.
I knew my lines well,
I'd known my whole life.

I miss it some days,
the adrenaline of the ER.
I know that it's wrong,
But breaking felt so right.
My demons have mostly gone,
And for that I thank myself.
But if it ever gets too safe out here,
I'll retire to my old bed.
I'll welcome back my old friends
With my hospital bracelet
wrapped around pink wrists again.

They will try to take everything.

The people you love, and the flowers you've grown,
every award you have earned and every dollar you've yet to spend.
Your safety and your home, your lover and your rights to freedom.
They will bleed you dry of everything you own.
Your sanctuaries to ruin, music to rhythms with no sound.
This is real life, and they've no reason to stop taking
what was meant to be ours, for now and since ever.
I haven't got much left but my head, and my heart
and to no surprise, they've both been aching.

They will try to take everything, but my God,
you cannot let them.

Go if you must, now if you can.
Take all that you've got left,
run til you can't stand.
This is your battle, your fight
and fight it you must,
every day of your life.

This is the night,
one we shan't ever forget,
for this is the eve we remembered
how to be who we are
without apology.

Now go! Don't ever stop,
remember this poem
forget what they taught.
If they take us, do not forfeit.
Go, if you must,
but go violently,
Go, and we must,
and never go silently.

I remember how you showed up at my door
and you knew I was weak in your presence.
You took my face in your hands,
and made me feel again.

You took me upstairs,
you showed me all the passion
we thought we had
forgotten.

Your flame burnt out and
I asked you to tell me that
you loved me, one more time.

I saw your shoulders slump
and that was the moment
I knew it was over.

I'm not saying I'm in love with you, but I could be.
You're the person I want to tell about my day, and you're all the words I want to hear drag on in the dark of the night. You're the thoughts attached to my morning coffee and to my evening reflection.

I'm not saying I'm in love with you,
but I want to travel the world by your side, once, twice, even a third time. The first to see the world, the second to see you, and the third to realize you're one in the same.
I want to write in languages unspoken about the way your lips curve around mine, and I want you to drown me in your every movement. You're a tidal wave, and I'm all washed up.

I'm not in love with you,
but I'm so dangerously close.

Last night the stars fell out of the sky,
and you sighed deeply in your sleep.
I thought maybe you could feel it too,
the universe falling around us.

I fell in love with you last night,
and you're sleepy mind had not a clue.

I laid awake all night, listening
to the humming of your breath
against my rigid skin.

I fell in love with you last night,
and you rolled out of bed
and out the door
before my heart could let you in.

I am fine, honestly. I've come so far from where I've been.
2. Look at my wrists. I told you I stopped.
3. Those aren't scars, it's just the lighting.
4. What? No, I wasn't crying. Idiot.
5. Of course I slept last night. Why wouldn't I have?
6. Yes, the nightmares stopped. I can breathe again.
7. I already ate. No thank you.
8. I'm finally over him, and I'm ready to fall in love again.
9. Don't worry. I am well enough to help you with your problems. I am okay.
10. I am safe. I wouldn't dream of hurting myself again.

I should have told you the truth. Maybe I wouldn't be in this lonely mess.

10. I'm not safe, and I need someone to take care of me. Please don't let me out of your sight. Something could get me, and that something could be me.
9. I'm sorry, I just can't help you. I can't even help myself. I'm afraid I'll make whatever you're going through worse. I just can't handle being at fault. Not again.
8. I don't think I will ever love anyone as much as I loved him.
7. I'm starving, but my God does it feel good.
6. I haven't slept for three days, and I can't see straight.
5. I can't sleep without you here.
4. I've been sobbing for hours. I know you heard me, and I know you don't give a ****.
3. I carved your name into my skin.
2. My wrists are clean to keep your questions at bay. Please don't check my thighs.
1. I have never felt worse than I do today. And I know tomorrow will be a new hell, and I would do anything to keep it from coming.

Anything.

This is where your heartbeat lingers:
somewhere between hospital bed sheets
and the new-found aching in my chest.

The bed in which you slept
has been soiled by silent tears
and your nervous sweat.

You were always home to me,
but I was robbed by all your misery.

Replace your sorrows with an absence
of yourself, and I'll make my home
in your hospital bed sheets.

For some, this is a place of miracles.
For us, it's one of tragedy.

I hope you heard my voice, in your sleep
and it haunts your waking hands that reach for me
in your empty bed.

I hope your arms forget everything but the air around them,
and you cling to memories instead of holding me.
*My bed is empty, too.

Deafening,
the sound of your tears are piercing me.

I spend every last second of my life
digging through your head
to unbury what you try to keep hidden.
I know that you're hurting -
let me fix you.

Each day of December is one spent waiting
for something new to come along
and compensate for the year I've had.

Here comes another year,
but right now we're all taking shots,
and kissing people we won't remember tomorrow.
As the clock strikes midnight,
everyone in the room is glowing.
Hopes and dreams are renewed again,
but all I can do is reflect on 365 days I failed.

Happy new year,
all the people I love are excited to begin again.
But today is just another day to me,
another day of December.

It's hard to celebrate new beginnings
when every day is spent waiting for one.
If you need me, I'll be in December
still trying to salvage what I left there.

Oh, I want to tell you. Believe me, I do.
I want to tell you how much it all hurts,
and how I hear your heartbeat in the chorus of every song.
If I could only reach the depths of your mind you never let me touch
we wouldn't be in this mess in the first place.
I want to scream at you, trust me, I do.
I ache to let my rage reign at full capacity,
and give you hell that burns eternally.

I'm afraid if I let these words marinade in my hatred,
I'll become far too bitter a person.
And what if your taste never leaves my lips?
I want to ask you.

Here we are, though.
I'm not speaking, screaming, and certainly not asking.
I'll drown my sorrows in something shameful,
and pray you care to save me.

Leave me where you dropped me, like litter in the boulevard.
You're just another passer-by,
who sees my home in the dirt.
Pretend it wasn't you who made the mess, if it helps you sleep tonight.
I suppose I'm disposable,
now that I've been used.

Get to where you need to be,
before what you need to be
catches up to where you are.

In a world of infinite palettes,
you gave me a single colour
and told me to paint.

I was so scared you wouldn't
frame my work
I never picked up the brush.

By the time you see this, it will be too late.

I asked for help, I screamed for years and I received nothing but empty promises.
I recall praying for something with substance to come into my life, but the only substances I remember having came in dime bags and shot glasses.
I remember carving names into my skin and breaking my own heart, and I know that you were there to see it all go downhill.

By the time you see this, I might still be breathing through pressed lungs.
The air feels like sandpaper, and I can't bare another scratch.
So if my chest still heaves as you read this, know that it's too late to save me from the pain.
The pain is in me, and the pain I have become.
Let me be.

I think I built myself off of what people could write about me
if I lived my life a certain way.

Maybe I read too many sad books,
but I have one hell of a story.

I know this place, it swallows you whole if you stop moving.
It's dark, and not as friendly as the shadows claim to be.
This place is one I've come to know through your troubled hands
and through the slits in my skin, it has come to know me.
Wandering aimlessly without light to find my way out of the abyss,
fighting off the grasp that holds so tightly.
But it's a battle that can't be won
when you're breaking your own bones to be free.

9:30 am dates in the coffee shop
your day starts with a coffee, two creams.
I get a coffee too,
just to keep my hands busy,
but my day starts when I look at you.

How was I supposed to know your most beautiful words would be your last?

It's a shame they came in the form of an apology.
You could have reached out, I swear I would have taken your hand.
I would have stayed up all night to convince you it's alright,
that you don't ever need to hurt yourself.

But I guess you did what you had to do
in order to get back at me, and earn my final sympathies.

I wish I could have told you I loved you
or that I was trying in my own way.
But I guess that if you killed yourself,
that you already must have knew.

sixteen shots and nine hits later,
do I love you still or am I wasted?
pour me another, straight *****.
if I feel you still, I'm sure I'll take it.
puff puff pass, his smoke in my mouth.
seventeen shots and ten hits later,
love is bitter, hard to chase.
no amount of self-destruction will rid my heart
of such an unforgivable taste.

I drank more than I could handle,
and you didn't take care of me.
I drank so much I almost forgot how much I loved you,
until I saw your lips on hers.

One of my best friends,
well how's an eye for an eye?
I hope she was worth it,
your best friend is just as much of a *****.

I hope you watched the way I touched him,
and I hope you hated how she tasted.
I want to know you saw me sleeping in his bed
instead of yours.
I hope when you woke up and saw me curled up next to him,
you felt pain that pierced through your heart.

I have a thousand regrets,
and you will never be one of them-
But I hope it becomes what you are made of-
A thousand regrets.

All I needed was your hand to hold when mine was shaking,
and something steady to grasp when I wasn't stable.
I needed your time, but you had none to give away.
I wanted a loan, something to get me by.
I was thinking love, but you had something else in mind

All I got was your hand in the wrong places,
and a grasp I couldn't escape from.
I needed your help, but you had none to offer.
I wanted out, anything to say goodbye.
You were thinking a walk to the bedroom,
but I was thinking suicide.

Prescribe me something to take away the pain,
but God, please don't prescribe me any medication.
Give me love, give me substance.
Give me a cigarette, an excuse.
But please, don't prescribe me *crazy pills.

Our first kiss was here, and you were so quiet the waves washed away your nervous humming.
I wish I would have caught your stutter.
We made history here, and I'm so sorry I only paid attention to the beauty of the sea.

Our last kiss was here, and you weren't quiet anymore because you were angry.
This time your eyes were the waves, washing me from your memories.
and oh, how I paid attention.

The winter is brisk, but not half as cold as you've become.
How can you say you loved me once?
When I look into those eyes that once seemed so warm,
I only see shadows where your soul used to be.

The winter is brisk, and you're a shell of yourself.
When did you change?
It must have been all the words the doctor used to describe you.
Crazy, depressed, nervosa-syndrome-disorder
There's bandaids where I used to see your beauty.

The winter is brisk, and you're in my head but I'm not in yours.
Why didn't you come back?
The therapist convinced you our love was poison.
But it was the only thing keeping you human.

I can't shake you back to life this time.
Snowglobe darling,
I'll watch your snowflakes fall,
and listen to what's left of your sweet melody.

I don't know how much it meant to you.
When we touched and kissed and told secrets.
But it's all that I can think of.

I asked you how I should cut my hair,
and you didn't answer for a long time.
I wondered if you were with her again.

I don't know how much I mean to you,
or why you suggested a cut that looked just like hers.
*But you are all I can think of.

How many days does it take to forget me?
Fewer or more than the days since you met me?

How many days will it take you to shake me?
Fewer or more than the days til you break me?

How many tears can I cry about you?
Fewer or more than the promises I made to you?

How many fears can I face without you?
Fewer or more since the day I lost you?

Answers, I need answers.
But I don't need you.