2/11/17
i've had moments
here and there in golden
sneakers and navy blue
lace covered dresses
but i'm not the girl
in an owl city song
not something worth
writing dreamy poems
about not so lovestruck you
replace your words with dada

9/18/18
same sneakers
same dress
same faces
fresh sweat

suddenly the stars
all fall together
and my life comes
careening full circle

your arms around my waist
flashing blue lights
in our eyes as i scream
every word that kept me
sane through years of
hopelessness and rain

you move your mouth
trying your best to
sing along with me
but it all comes out dada

and shockingly
blindingly
i can see myself
clearly

and i find myself at last
the girl in an owl city song
hand in hand with
my very own adam young

now i know
all wishes come true
even the ones you didn’t
realize you made

and isn’t it the most
incredible
impossible
cosmic destiny
how years after we stop
dreaming
when we storm on through
washed out hopes

one day the pieces
just fall into place
with closure and new
beginnings all at once

rainbows and clouds
epiphanies and ecstasy
dreams and the dreamers
you and me

it’s the kind of day
that makes your
jaw ache and the
soreness settle in
even the youngest
of bones

(“rainy days and mondays
always bring me down”
but rainy mondays are
guaranteed to be worse)

i worry too much
care too much
cry too much
think too much

it’s about time
to start thinking about
what happens when
seasonal depression hits

about time to start
making plans for
the rest of my
everloving life

it’s hard for me
to make plans
hard for me to
admit that maybe
my life won’t always
make me miserable

i struggle with
feeling powerless

watching those around
me suffer
trying every day to make
someone smile

and then one monday
picking up a paper
and seeing that one of those
smiles is no longer with us

nobody tells the barista
and they tell me it’s hard to find
out someone you know has died
by looking at a work ticket

but i’m just the girl who
makes your coffee and
wraps your bouquets and
no matter how much i
truly genuinely care about
each face in this town i know

at the end of the day
i have to face that
nothing can change
the inevitabilities

that nothing i say
can really help
the world will still
turn without me
like it turns without
others who are gone

i know i sound
pessimistic
i’m sorry
it’s just a rainy
day or monday
getting me down

at 4 in the
morning the sun
is never up
but i usually am

i worry
about things
that are out of
my control
even more about
things that are

get up early
when i work
and earlier
when i don’t
the older i get the
more i learn
sometimes you
need to cry it out

alone
at night
into your pillow
the blankets
wrapped all
around you

sometimes you
need to cry
and cry
and cry

until the morning
sun falls across
the tears dried
under your lashes

and the lump
in your throat has
dissolved so you can
breathe with ease

you need to get up
let hot water
wash it away
let the steam rising
from your mug soften
any sorrow left around
your morning eyes
take a deep breath
don’t mention it
to anyone

and
just
keep
going

i will
just
keep
going

it hurts
a sharp jabbing
pain in my
lower side
just above my
stomach

i only feel it
when i start
to think
too hard

it often aches
throughout the day
snakes downward and wraps
itself around my legs
squeezes my muscles
so tight i can’t sleep

the pain
screams
that i am not
good enough
that i never
have been and
never will be
good enough

there are purple
bags under my eyes
i keep them full
at all times

full of
what?

full of
words

words like
“no”
“can’t”
“want”
“practical”
“best”
“should”
“plan”

heav­y
words
that pull my
head down

so that i focus
on the floor
my own feet
and the thick
vine winding
up from the
ground trying
to choke me out

lately every
step has been hard
trying to pull
the roots up
so i can begin
to move forward

it’s slow
and the pain
and the words
make it slower

and i am tired
so tired
all i want is to
stop moving
just for a
bit to rest

afraid of
what i know
about myself
and how if i
pause and
slow down

my body will
come to a
complete halt
and more of those
dead weight words
might tumble out

words like
“wrong”
“want”
“work”
“will”
“can”
“happy”
“no”

until i am buried
under an avalanche
of double negatives
and wishful thinking

and still the pain
keeps on throbbing
as i keep swallowing
down my toxic words

my hands are covered
in scrapes and calluses
three week old blisters turned
gray with scabs and dirt

i paint my face on bravely
every morning and grind
the glitter into my skin
with a smile until i get home

and can let my cheeks begin
to droop and the hateful
thoughts i push down all day
begin to tumble out

i spend all day saying sorry
for things that aren’t my fault
and try to make
strangers laugh

and i work
and hustle
and sleep
and work

listen to the voices
tell me i’m not
trying
hard enough

and sleep
and hustle
and work
and sleep

and keep myself fighting
for something
but i don’t know yet
what that something is

sometimes at the end of
another day when my
body melts into bed
the glitter washes off
with tears

and the fear
pins me down
so i grit my teeth
shut my eyes and sleep

then i get up
pour another
cup of coffee
and just
keep
moving

i dread the day you learn
for the first time that
you can't just love all
the darkness in me away

and no matter how much
you care i will still toss
and turn at night and scars
might still appear on my skin

i dread the day you realize
that you can't cure me
and sometimes all you can do
is stand next to me and
hold my hand through fog
pouring out of my ears so black
and thick we can't even see
each other's faces

i dread the days i can't
get out of bed
the days you want to
take me out and all
i can manage is a prettified
shell of myself

i dread the day you learn
that sometimes no matter
how hard i try i still can't
pull myself together

the day you learn that
there isn't an answer
you can give that will
save me from my fears

you aren't the first person
who has tried to love the
darkness inside away
my family and friends
have given it their all
but someday you too will learn
that if love could
cure mental illness
the world would be
a much better place

when i look at my body
i have only ever seen
a topographical map of every
failure and self-loathing thought
that slowly destroyed it
neglected and broke it

but under your hands i
forget about all that and feel
flowers blooming from the cracks that
desolation left as your fingers and
kisses remind me that even crooked
trees still grow upwards and that

the most majestic of mountains
remain standing tall through time
uneffected by the scars and faults
that history left on stone