The simplicity I'm searching for
Hides beneath my fingernails
Occupies the dark spaces I refuse to frequent
Consumes the sweet fumes I forget to swallow

I've been told I overthink things
It has never been about mountains or molehills
I always see land big enough for shelter
I do not need reasons
This is what worries me
I hesitate all the time
Then I think I know
Then I know I know
Then I see you in public and you're laughing
And I can't tell if you're laughing at me
So I smile
Not because I want to
But because I think you want me to
And suddenly I don't know anymore
But I wonder if everyone else knows
Or if you know
Then I'm back beneath the mountain
Or the molehill
And I don't give a **** about geomorphology
I just want to see you
walk to the highest peak and shout your name
And watch the echos vibrate off my chest
This is what worries me most

What I need
Is the courage to say exactly what I intend
Believe I already own this certainty
Live within the in between

You know, I almost called the other night.
Almost.
I’d like to think that
you would’ve almost picked up,
and I would’ve almost said something.
It’s a good thing I’ve almost lost your number;
I could get lonely someday
and forget that you almost wanted to stay.
I forget a lot nowadays.
I almost called the other night, you know.
But I’ve learned that “almost”
only counts in “I love you’s”
and “goodbye’s”.
Maybe I’ll almost sleep tonight.
It’s strange that I keep dreaming
about the night we walked around the city.
I always end up on the park bench
by your house,
waiting.
I’ve almost stopped wishing you’d show up.

i used to cradle her bleach-cracked hands in mine
and decode the stardust resting within her fingerprints
     up until the day that i lost touch with the art of reading braille
     and she stopped slinging tall-tales for me to fetch
and rest the plot-twist at her feet

often in the post-script
i'd find my train of thought highjacked by the sunlight illuminating the rainbow of earth-tones ablaze
in her frizz-ridden curls
as if she'd been washing her hair with the damaged case of beer
she'd gotten for half-price at liqour depot
     she never did quit drinking
          but neither did i

at least we tried

though sometimes
in the middle of the night when nothing was alright
and we'd barely survived another fight
her face would catch my glance
cast aglow by a flood of lava-lamp light
    
     the sea of freckles resting at the crest of her cheeks
     rose lips perma-pursed in half tilt
     her resting heart-rate so high that i could almost see it
          pirouetting within her chest

it was then that i'd love her best
     amidst the ruins of who we were
     just moments before

I opened the blinds.
I took a deep breath.
I reminded myself that I exist.
I let you go.

It was a routine morning.

I am caught
In the moment our paths first met
And from that moment on
My skin craved for your touch.

I've hidden you
In plain sight
Not to raise eyebrows
But heartbeats.

You are not
A substitute for words
Even though your lines give away
The very essence of my soul.

Nor you compensate
For any thought that has fled my being
In search of acceptance
Or scorn.

No
You simply
Are
And always will be.

I always ask myself questions:
am I good enough?
do I really have potential?
does anyone actually care?
why do I feel so displaced?
It's upsetting; knowing that I'll probably never have the answers I'm looking for.
But, I guess it's meant to be that way.
Whether or not it's for better or worse, I'll never find out.
These questions I have are the offspring of my doubt.
I'm trying my best to keep these feelings of disappointment and stress at bay.
But every time I try to speak; I find myself searching for the words to say.

"I can't"
  &
"I don't know"
             These are two
       Very common phrases
       I find myself using a lot
              These days.
      Maybe it's due to the fact
That I don't want
       To
           Try;
     I'm starting to
     Believe
     That I'm afraid
     Of moving on.

Here I am, looking up causes for headaches
at 1 am
when I know it will always come back to you.
My hands found the bottom of the ocean
as I cleaned old movie tickets out of my car today.
I can see your honesty from here.
It took my composure on its way out the door.
I’m not bitter anymore.
I’m just tired.
And I’m tired of being so tired.
I’m sorry you didn’t stay.
I’m sorry that I apologize
for all the times you didn’t.
I keep forgetting these things
are not one-sided,
and so,
I’m sorry I gave you everything
for nothing in return.
You tasted like love,
and I was parched.
Still am.