the blackness is demanding
its tearing at my skin
your hand is supposed to be gripping mine
because that's how it goes- how it's meant to be
but you're not here
~
the dark is squeezing, covering my eyes
I can't feel a thing
the air is ricocheting against my throat- it wants out
I've forgotten how to breathe
but, you're not here,
strong arms showing me how it's supposed to go, and gentle touches convincing me it's meant to be
~
darkness is in your place
and every night it returns
reminding me
what we had-
is buried six feet deep with your soul
in a casket, I'll never see
~
and I don't know how it's supposed to go, and I'm not convinced this was meant to be

you don't know the real me
.
.
no one does
and no one will
.
.
I'm always going to hide
I'm always going to lie
.
.
don't waste your time

he grabs my hips- and I'm by his side
he traces my skin- and I'm shrinking inside
he tugs my hair- and I'm convinced this is love
he bites my neck- and I'm high above

purple & dark blue
when I close my eyes,
ache and regret
when I tell them the lies

why did I let him
convince me
he was worth my time

why did I let him
touch me
cold hands marking every inch of me

why did I let him
see me
his crystal blues watching my every move

I'm trying to control the screams
but I'm covering my eyes
I'm trying to keep the tears at bay
but I'm scratching my cheeks
I'm trying to hear you're whispers
but I'm reaching the wrong way

I can't function

you're so close
but I'm so far away

i was crying for one thing
but then the tears wouldn't stop
i was crying for everything around me
and how I could not do a thing, but watch

she asks me how I am doing
but i cant tell her the truth
in those minutes the tears won't show
only a numb smile
with eyes to match

I learned how to frown- in silence
I learned what seeing your mother cry meant- in silence
I learned how to grow up- in silence
I learned to expect nothing but a mother- in silence
I learned speech therapy, I learned art therapy, I learned bribery- all in silence

Now sirens, cheering, yelling
Now bright yellows, tangy oranges, deep reds
All demanding

I’m a fish washed ashore
Hot sand- burning my fins
Bright sun blinding

I never thought they’d expect me to smile
I never thought happiness could affect me
I never thought laughter was real
I never expected to care about a male

And I never assumed, his love for me
Could give me a calm, peaceful silence
So different from everything I believed

When I publish a poem, it’s like climbing that scary mountain. Or finally riding the world’s fastest roller coaster.  All day you've worried about it, but as you walk off, you’re free. You’ve done it. It didn’t **** you. You’re not a mess of tears on the floor. Everything is good. That’s what poetry is. It’s joining a journey last minute and when you catch your breath, you realize, you’re more than just fine. You’re living, and there are no standards. You are the highest level, and whether the people around you climb higher, or travel farther, it doesn’t matter. You’re walking shoes are covered in dirt, and fraying at the soles, and that is more than enough. You and the words you create are more than enough.