i am briar-rose's castle;
my heart is the sleeping beauty within
under the curse of a hundred years
and only eighteen have passed so
God help the prince who tries to cut
his way through the thorns
because these vines are dark magic
just like the rest of me - under
a spell that will not break.

when you wake up tomorrow
i will be gone. my space in the
bed will be empty, but i'll fold
the sheets on my side back neatly,
it'll be as though i was never there.

don't panic. the key is
under the mat, the same
place we always put it,
even though i've told you a
thousand times that there are
a million better hiding places for it.

there's a bowl of fruits on the table, i
bought them this afternoon while
you were away at work. i should
have put them in the fridge, but
i thought you'd like to see how
pretty the apples are before you
cut them apart.

my gray toyota will be gone from
the garage, but that's the only thing
i'm taking with me, i promise, aside
from the clothes on my back. i'll sit
in that car, eighty an hour and the
radio loud, trying not to think about
leaving you behind without a goodbye.

i see your face in my mind
as i drive away, your forehead
crinkled the way it always is when
you don't understand something. you'll
read this note and wonder why i left,
but please, don't look for me.

some say love is holding on,
some say it's letting go,
and all i know as i turn the key in the ignition
is that some journeys have to be made alone.
i know you're probably hurt, lost and afraid,
but so am i. i don't know why i know
within myself that this is the right thing to do,

but don't wait up for me.

sit in class
watch the clock tick
as the moments pass me by
all i want to do is disappear
into a void where i no longer have to feel

sit at home
watch the closed door
as the shouts echo just outside
all i want to do is disappear
into a void where i no longer have to feel

sit in hell
watch the flames burn
as my sanity hangs on a thin thread
all i want to do is disappear
into a void where i no longer have to feel

sit in life
watch everything go wrong
as my fingers reach out for the blade
all i want to do is disappear
into a void where i no longer have to feel

all i want to do is disappear
is that too much to ask?

we don't get to choose
when and where we fall in love,
or who we fall in love with.
we place our hearts on the line,
flip the pages one by one
and just like that
our story is written.

sometimes pain is inevitable.
sometimes he's your romeo
but you're not his juliet.
sometimes you still feel his ghost
two years after it's ended
and you close your eyes
and wish the pain away.

but this is love,
raw and real, a sharp physical pain
in your chest when you least
expect it. i still see myself
in the places where you are
dreaming of what could have been,
or what could be.

love is out of our control.

but darling, all i ask
is that you open your heart
to everything love is,
let yourself feel the passion, the pain
embrace wholly everything
it can show you, and beyond everything
never be afraid to fall
because it teaches us things
we would never otherwise have known.

a night sky,
dark clouds,
and a million small stars

scattered,
almost as if God himself
decided to weep tiny diamonds
for us.

we should be so much more than this.

"oh, my lover,
let's start over,
will we ever say we're sorry?
it's not going to get better
if we never say we're sorry."

i'm caught in the passing,
a dream and reality
crossing paths.
where do i turn?
which way do i go?
i look up at the stars,
as though they could answer me,

but all the constellations;
they spell your name.

it hits you mid-shower,
as you're half trying to keep soap-suds
out of your eye and half attempting to figure out
if you've got split ends yet -

one minute you're thinking of nothing at all
and the next you suddenly realize,
you love him.
you like him? you love him? the word ceases to matter.

oh god, you love him.

you love him for how the corners of his eyes
crinkle up when he laughs,
for how he cares if you're home safe,
for how the first thing on his bucket list
is for his grandmother to hold his first child.

for how you could sit with him for hours with
nothing but your shoulders touching,
and be complete in the warmth he exudes
in comfortable silence.

for how he talks and how he walks,
for how he looks at you,
for how his eyes seem to have endless depth.

and the funny thing is that you know you've lost the game
but you don't care that you've lost, you don't care
if he loves you back or if he doesn't because
in that moment you have remembered
what it is to love a person not for what they look like
or for what they sound like but for who they are

and the knowledge that after two whole years of bitterness
and hiding away in your shell
you have discovered what it is to love again
and nothing else matters in that moment because
for what it counts you have found yourself again
in loving someone and you realize that

your heart has so much left to give; who you
choose to give it to does not matter as much
as the knowledge that you are capable of loving,
the kind of love that does not fear hurt or pain
but embraces it as part of the essence of love.

what am i chasing,
really?

behind the smoke and the empty bottles,
behind the tears and the dried-up coughs
behind the life i know is leading me to ruin.

is it you?

or is it what you stand for,
the laughter on windy days,
the split-second hugs and the
sadness in my eyes you say you
feel sorry for.

and then there's the broken glass.
from last week on my bedroom floor.
after i threw an empty jack daniels bottle
at the wall in frustration.
and maybe a little pain.

metaphorical? perhaps.
tangible? perhaps.

but each time i reach out to
it all that answers me is
a bottle of pearls.

"i hate the beach
but i stand in California
with my toes in the sand."*

i reach a leg out, dip my toes
in the slowly lapping waves.
looking out, i see the ocean,
stretching for what seems to be
forever and ever and ever.

just like what you promised.
"forever and always," you said.
and i believed you, like the stupid
lovesick fool i was. i should have
known ; forever never lasts
when i'm with you.

people are a lot like the ocean,
i realized. turbulent but calm,
docile and quiet when unprovoked
but with the tendency to roar when angry.
that was you. but i suppose

that was also me, because stripped
down to the bareness of our souls
you and i are one and the same.

we are the ocean,
beautiful but treacherous,
stretching as far as the eye can see,
forever and ever and ever.

i loved you before i met you.

i spent my whole life
weaving fantasies for myself,
pulling different threads from different people
spinning them into a dream.

and then i met you,
someone who was everything
but nothing all at once;
and in loving you i lost myself.

but hurricanes are named
after people, darling;
and you were the one storm
i could not weather.

i sit down,
lean back against the wall,
blow a stream of smoke out of my mouth,
and declare,
"**** life, **** people, i'm going to do this on my own".

then you walk by

and once again i find myself lost
in a sea of emotions
struggling to find the nearest life buoy
fighting against the waves
that threaten to consume me.

because the truth is,
no matter how many cigarettes i smoke
no matter how many floors i sit on
no matter how many walls i lean against
the only lifeline i need

is you.

i step out
and i'm surrounded,
like i've already lost the fight.
the wind flies in my face,
whispering your name in my ear.

i pull my scarf up,
past my nose, past my ears ;
i just want to forget
your **** voice.

it's autumn, red and orange
leaves glide down silently,
a few brush my shoulders
as though mocking me;
a ghost of last year.

i pull my jacket tighter
around my small body ;
i just want to forget
your **** touch.

it's a long walk to
the bridge i saw you last,
my dark eyes melting into
your honey ones.

eventually i look over into the black water,
and instead of seeing my reflection
it's your face staring back at me.

i can't forget.

"be bold, be brave, be strong."*

reaching out,
my fingers come into contact
with the smooth hard surface
of a cold stone wall.

where have you gone?

you are a sliver of beauty tonight.
i see you from inside
this well. i can hear the sound
of my own breathing, slow
and steady against the silence.

am i safe or am i trapped?
nothing from the outside can get in,
but i cannot escape.

oh, moon, silver moon,
where did you go?

because the truth is -

i still wear your favorite perfume every single ******* day;
it reminds me of you
i still take hour-long bus rides home on double-
decker buses, sit at the back and cry
when our song comes on shuffle.
i still flinch every time i hear your name,
still tear up every time i see you smile because i know
it's no longer because of me.

i still feel what's left of my heart crack and burn
when i see pictures of you and her because oh,
that used to be me.
i still lie in bed at night wondering if things
could be different if i hadn't let you go, if i had fought
for the things i loved, for the person i loved.

i still struggle to put into words
how much i loved you, how much i love you, how much
i will continue to love you because the truth remains
that my stupid, stupid heart can never let you go.

dear daddy,
you were there throughout my
childhood, but when i
say that i mean it physically, of
course. you weren't really
there emotionally.

dear daddy,
as i grew up i watched you
fight with my mom,
i sat through the cold dinners
and at ten i watched my mum
slam a calculator on the table
before walking out the door.

dear daddy,
i was sixteen when you kicked my
brother out of the house. he was
only fourteen, daddy,
he couldn't look after himself.
it was your ****** pride, that's
what it was.
yours and his.

dear daddy,
at seventeen we barely spoke,
i remember the bitterness
i held in my heart;
you couldn't even get a proper job,
couldn't even look after this family,
made mom do all the work.
my brother didn't live with us,
he was at an aunt's house, far away from
the fire we knew would start if you
both were in the same room.

dear daddy,
twenty crept up on me like a ghost
and i saw the lines in your face
age catching up with you as
you began to forget,
where your keys were,
whether you brought your phone back from
the car, what time dinner was.

dear daddy,
twenty-one now, and i still
don't know how to feel about you.
you tried your best, i suppose,
and i love you with a sort of grudging
nonchalance, because who am
i to tell you that you need to change?

dear daddy,*
i'm conflicted. i love you because
i know i should, because i
admit you're human too. you tried
your best, i know you did
and i wish i could change my mind
but i hope you'll forgive me
for seeing a stranger when i look at you.

dear dan
you gave up.
i don't know if words can bring you back.
probably not.
i don't even know if you're really gone.
i miss you.
i'm sorry i couldn't stop you
i'm sorry i couldn't save you
i'm sorry i couldn't show you
how much you mean to us.

i can't bring you back.
it's like you stood on the edge and
my rope just wasn't long enough.

i'm so so sorry.
and i won't forget you.

dear dan,
i do not know everything in life,
neither do i claim to.
i do not have the answer to everything,
neither do i pretend to.
but life has taught me a lot of things.
it taught me that it's always going to be hard,
it's always going to be an uphill battle,
life is never going to be on your side.
i don't know a lot of things,
but i do know this.
for every moment that i am living,
breathing,
being,
i am grateful.
i am grateful that i was given a life,
no matter how difficult it may be.
there are people
in this world
who wish for half the things we have.
now i'm not saying it's easy,
because let's face it, it's never going to be.
what i am saying,
is that you have the power to change your life.
rain or shine, it's all in your hands.

dear dan,
it's never going to be easy;
it's always going to be hard.
but please,
please,
for heaven's sake
this is my plea:
please don't give up on me now.

the sink is stacked full
of week-old dishes
that i haven't found the energy
to wash-
the dishwasher's spoilt and
i haven't had time to call someone to repair it.
or maybe i'm just procrastinating.

the laundry-basket is overflowing
with clothes,
i've been too busy working to put them to wash.
or maybe i'm just procrastinating.

this is what you talked about.
taking the last clean shirt out of the closet,
swearing because i realize my laziness has caught up with me,
eating chinese takeout almost every night
because i love the chicken chow mien,
not caring that i'll soon get sick of it.

it's what you called "that searching",
wanting more and more and even more.
we want the cold days to end and the warm ones to come,
we want back the people we used to love.
we want to see spring again,
for the cycles of life to repeat themselves.
we're never satisfied.
this yearning, this feeling-
what you finally gave up.

i see it in the mirror every morning,
think about it when i spill the coffee because i'm hungover
from last-night's emotional breakdown.
i catch a whiff of it when i let the dog out,
when i'm buying a CD from the corner video store,
when i catch a glimpse of myself
in the car window.

and i am filled
with the knowledge that
i am alive;

for this, this is
what the living do+.
what you finally decided
was too much for you to take.

but that's okay.
lock the door behind you now,
and drive safe.

i hope one day
someone stitches you back together
i hope one day
you see the beauty of life
i hope one day
you understand how precious you are

you're my best friend
and i know you will see this
and i want you to promise me
that no matter what happens you will keep hanging on
because i love you
for all that you are
and i don't mean the love of a lover
but rather
phileo love
one that is warm and tender and platonic
one that makes me cry when i see you hurt
one that makes me willing to stay up
till 4am to persuade you not to **** yourself

because you mean a lot to me
and i hope one day
you learn to mean a lot to yourself too.
i know what you feel.
believe me, i, more than anyone else, would know.
how often have i felt the same?
how often have i seen my own scars?
how often have i wanted to put an end to my own life?
i know you. better than i know myself.

to take your life is a brave thing to do.
but is it not braver to stay and fight?
i want to stay.
i want to fight my demons off one by one.
and you, my fellow wanderer,
won't you fight with me?
won't you live for living's sake?

i'm screaming.
can you hear me?
i'm screaming.
but i'm screaming calmly.

there's a ringing in my head,
maybe from last week's hangover.
my cheeks seem to be perpetually tear-
stained with ink.

i like to look in the mirror.
my nose seems flatter than usual today;
i guess pinocchio was just a fairytale.

built a home in a basement;
never thought that i'd need the light

days fall away, one after
another, and i smoke five cigarettes
before the pack burns out.

it can outrun me, you know.

but am i really drunk? or
have i just been drinking
water from my alcohol bottles,
pretending to feel the burn as it slides
down my throat?

or have my cigarettes been not
lighted all this while, just me *******
away at tasteless white sticks of tobacco,
staring at my ceiling and wishing i was dead?

i'm so predictable, it's starting
to hurt,

because instead of dreams, i'm counting nightmares.

instead of lovers, i'm counting bones.

instead of life, i'm living hell.

i saw fireworks yesterday
and they reminded me of you
of how once you sent me a picture of you
sitting on the ground watching a sky
lit up in red and white and blue
and how you wished i was there with you.

and even though i'm the one
who told you we're not meant to be
there's a part of me that still misses you.

and even though i'm the one
who said "that's enough"
there's a part of me that still wants you.

today i rode my penny down the sidewalk
and it reminded me of you
how you once sent me a video of you
skating down a hallway at 11p.m.
and you wished i was there with you.

and even though i'm the one
who told you we're not meant to be
there's a part of me that still misses you.

and even though i'm the one
who said "that's enough"
there's a part of me that still wants you.

and i know
time will erase me from your mind but

even though we're not meant to be
even though that's enough
there's a part of me that still misses you
and there's a part of me that still wants you

but that part is growing smaller every day
and we're not meant to be
and that's enough now.

when i was nine,
you punched the guy who
stole my teddy bear. that's how
we first met. i shared my peanut
butter and jelly sandwich with
you at lunch, because it was the
only way i knew how to say thanks.

when i was thirteen,
your family used to come over
to our house, and we'd have
dinner together. my parents,
your parents; my brother, your
sister. you and me.

when i was fourteen,
i dated a boy three years older
than we were. you were always
worried that something would happen,
you didn't trust him. i never knew
it was because you loved me.
you were right.

when i was fifteen,
my boyfriend hit me. he punched me
because he thought i was flirting
with a friend. he drove me, unconscious,
to a hospital, but we crashed into
another car. he was drunk. your
parents and mine were in that car.
your dad died, and so did both my parents.
i never knew so much pain.

when i was seventeen,
we dated for a while, but then
you went away. you never called,
never answered my calls. it was like you
disappeared from the face of the earth.
i lost my best friend, i lost the boy i loved.

when i was twenty-one,
i met you at a masquerade party
thrown by one of our friends. you didn't
recognize me. i found out you were
in a car accident, and you'd lost your memory.
we started again, from the beginning.

when i was twenty-two,
we fell in love all over again.
you started to remember little things
from the past, but to me you were always
the same parker i had always known.
the same parker i fell in love with.

when i was twenty-three,*
you asked me to marry you.
i said yes. but people are people,
and sometimes we change our minds.
i remember crying, pressing the ring
into your palm, telling you i couldn't do this.

when i was twenty-four,
our best friends got married. i met
you at the wedding, and we decided to
give it another shot. it worked, and we
finally, finally tied the knot.

when i was twenty-five,
we had our first child. he was a handful.
you were a doctor, i was a lawyer.
both busy, both new to this life.
we had our first fight at 2.33am,
and i ran out of the house. you followed me,
and told me i'd never be alone. i believed you.

now, i'm twenty-seven.
we had another child, a beautiful girl.
but you're never home. your
job keeps you out till late at night,
and i never know where you are.
i saw you at the grocery store, with
another woman. i was upset, i accused
you without even knowing what was
going on. i was wrong. i told you
i wanted a divorce. the look on your face
made my heart break.

i regret it. i regret everything.
but if i could go back in time
and meet you again, knowing
i would end up losing you, i would
still choose to love you, because
loving you was worth losing you.
we were always parkerandlissa,
neither complete without the other.

i'm so so sorry,
and i will miss you.

you give me fifteen
minutes a day to be myself.
and so for fifteen minutes a day i
paint myself into being,

weaving a tapestry of emotions with
just black and white.
i leave my body and strip
myself down to my bones.

my soul sings; i lose being lost
something alcohol can never do
and my fingers fly over black and white.

but at the end of that fifteen
minutes my shirt is soaked with sweat;
my wrists ache and my muscles shiver with
what can be called anticipation but what

i've come to know as dread. and
then i wrap myself up in my pretences
again, shaking with the
effort of being someone i am not.

on some days i don't have that fifteen.
some days are harder to bear than others.

have you ever felt
the exhaustion?
it's not just physical; it's
mental, emotional, draining
in all the ways you could think of.
it runs in your blood and
seeps into your bones
and you sit there wondering when
it'll all be over.

have you ever felt
the heartache?
it numbs you, chokes you, and
makes you feel like your heart
is a little shriveled up raisin
because you can't imagining it opening
up to anyone else ever again.
it hurts in the worst ways;
a hollow ache that never subsides.

have you ever seen
me cry?
it's not the kind of quiet tears you
see in movies.
it's the heart-wrenching sobs;
screams of pain, loss and apprehension.
it isn't beautiful, there's nothing
poetic about it. it's raw, malignant
grief.

have you ever known me?
or were you just a figment
of my imagination,
too many lines between what i
know and and what i used
to love.

hey, how're you doing?
it's been two months since i saw you
and i'd tell you i miss you but
i can't find the words.

hey, how's it going?*
it's been two weeks since we spoke
and i'd tell you i love you but
the words, they die in my throat.

all i know is this:
i love you every minute of every day,
but one day you decided it was enough for you,
and you walked out with neither a goodbye
nor a look back,

and suddenly, all the love songs were about you.

it's been so long since
we sat on top of that hill
that warm California night
and looked down
on all those little lights of the city.

we lay on the grass, your
head next to mine,
my dark hair spread out behind me
and our soft breathing in
unison with the beat of our hearts.

you kissed my cheek,
and in the silence after you pulled away
i threaded my fingers through yours
and i knew then, i knew,
i could never love anyone else.

i saw the tender sadness in your eyes,
as you tucked a flyaway piece
of my hair behind my ear,
and i squeezed my eyes shut,
bracing myself for what i knew would come.

when i opened them again
i was gazing up at the stars,
and when i turned to look at you
you were gone.

they say there's a reason for
every beautiful heartache,
and that night i wished upon the stars
that you'd never have to leave.

but you made your choice;
and now you live among the stars.

seventeen,
found a home in a tiny wine cellar
off the coast of malibu
drank and drank till i could drink no more,
yet it couldn't fill the hollow inside.

eighteen,
took a one-way ticket out of malibu;
flew through the clouds till i
reached this little hole in denver;
made a home, lost a house.

nineteen,
took a one-way ticket out of you
blessed my long dark hair,
smelt the apple blossoms in your chest
kissed you goodbye and never came back.

twenty, twenty,*
what's there left for me to do?
found a home in a little wine cellar
in a big city
killed myself with alcohol

but forgot about the me i left behind.

yes, you.
you with your stupid big brown eyes
that see everything, even though
you're sensitive enough not to say a word.

you with your stupid hair
that i never thought i'd be writing about
because i always tell you how unattractive it is.
i guess my heart decided to run to you just the same.

you with your constant concern,
your ability to see right through me,
even when my walls are built so high
that no one else bothers to try
you're still there chipping away at it,
gently trying to get me to open up.

you told me once that you fall for character,
not for looks. that was before all this.
before you and i started long talks,
before i started to feel i could talk to you about anything,
before, before, before.
when i was still guarded, when i could still breathe.

but i know this won't change anything.
despite my sudden realization that
perhaps, just perhaps, you wormed your way
into my heart after all, i know you're
not going to stay. why would you?

my heart belongs to you,
but your heart belongs to her.

i think i love you, i can't be sure.
but if i didn't my heart wouldn't hurt this much,
so i guess i do after all.

it was your stupid pretty brown eyes,
that's what it was.

beep
"hey, how're you doing?
i-
****, nevermind."

beep
"god, i miss you so much.
i miss your voice,
your touch,
everything about you.
but i guess you don't miss me."

beep
"hey, how've you been? it
started snowing today.
reminded me of you. please
call me back."

beep
"i know you don't want to
talk, but please, please
just let me tell you how much
i miss you."

beep
"do you listen to all my voicemails?
you never pick up the
phone anymore. i guess
you just don't want to
talk to me."

beep
"i must have sent you twenty
voicemails by now. i'm sorry,
but i'm trying to come to terms
with the fact that you're gone."

beep
"this is the last one.
i'm sorry for bothering you,
i just wanted to tell you, to

remember me."

beep

there's a void in my soul
something i pretend to have lost
when it seems i never had it
to start with.

it's long lost kisses
and pretty things,
dark clouds and weeping willows,
giving up
and holding on
whispering branches in winter
and the wailing of the ocean in summer.

and if i reach deep enough into myself
i know that it is love
something lost, nothing gained.
but that doesn't matter, really
when you're a washed up, beat up soul
with nothing left
but a sandpiper to bring you joy.

no love,
but that's not a bad thing.

a lot of times, it's the little things
things that **** me off,
things that make me smile,
things that make me for a
second
forget who i am.

because what difference
does it make,
whether i laugh or cry
or punch a wall with
my fist?

as long as you get what
you want;
an emotional response,
you'll be satisfied.

and in that way, the little things
don't really matter at all,
because why should we care
why we laugh, or why we cry?
(or even why
we punch a wall?)
for as long as we know
we have not lost the ability
to feel,
to be,
to exist,

we are living.
and that is the most important of all.

you know what it is.
the shapeless shadows of a dying youth,

the hollow longing to hear
a voice you know you'll never hear again,
to feel a touch you know
you'll never feel again,
to see a familiar smile except this time
you know it's not because of you.

it's bottles and bottles of empty faces
swaying past you one after another all trying
to fill the gap he left, all trying
to know you as he did
but their arms feel different,
tattered flags on skeletal rods -
their voices sound different,
the cries of vultures circling the air.

you made me lonely,
but lonely for you.
and no matter how many places i see
or how many people i meet i will never
ever stop loving you.

i've been spending the past
two nights
away from home.
it's hard to explain why i did;
you'd have found me sitting
on the beach at two
a.m. ; two bottles of jack beside
my lonely bones.

i think i was back again,
searching for something
i lost long ago.
i think it left the same time you did.
i've been smoking too much too,
wisps of gray plumes
fleeing those smooth white marlboros.

i swear too much.
i cut myself on a bottle cap
and threw it out into the sea.

i'm a wanderer.
i can see why you left.
but the smoke and the alcohol,
they're my substitutes for you.
i drink so much that
i don't even get drunk anymore.

it's just me
and a ghost of a soul
where you used to be.

i've lost you,
haven't i?

it's just hit me,
and suddenly i'm numb with the
realization that things will never
be the same.

or maybe it's you who's lost me.
because how could i lose something;
someone i never had?

i couldn't.

and i think
if i could turn back time now,
knowing i would fall in love with you
and then lose you,
i would still choose
to turn back time
and fall in love with you
all over again

because loving you
was worth losing you.

home alone,
i sit down on the kitchen floor,
cradling my heart in my hands.

i see your face in my mind,
and my heart shatters in my palms,
a few pieces cutting my fingers.

two-thirds of a bottle of jack later
i don't feel the pain anymore.
everything's hazy, everything's blur.

then your face floats up
out of my sub-conscious drunkenness
and my stupid heart starts to hurt again.

i finish the bottle in five quick swigs.
there's a burn in my chest,
but somehow it doesn't hurt as bad

as the wounds you left in your wake.
i fall asleep, cheek against
the cold tiled kitchen floor,

and stumble back into consciousness
the next morning, swearing and groaning,
but with the daylight comes

the clarity of the memories
i've been trying so hard to push away.