You stole my breath
but needed only ask.
Gave love freely
and demanded the same back.
You took no ****
so never gave one.
You showed me the way
- my eyes followed you -
to feel no regret.

You were bold and brazen,
I was empathetically italicized,
leaning on you
in times of duress.
You gave and gave and gave and gave and gave
two-bit trinkets
half-assed like alimony.
I took and took and took until
I was overburdened and
rooted in place.
You walked away like an action hero
and never looked back.
You showed me the way
- my eyes followed you -
straight out the window.

Yesterday you gave
     me a call. Said
     you were fine.
I didn't ask
     if you felt my eyes
     searching you out
     in dreams,
digging deeper through memories
to us, together.
You teaching me to love
     selfishly,
showing me the way you did.
My eyes followed you,
  followed yours
     following her,
and you showed me the way
you felt no regrets.

Perhaps sometime I can show you
how I find my way
straight out the window
and let your eyes follow me
down.

On the days when I don't think I'll make it,
When the burden of life refuses to lessen
Its interminable persecution of my soul,
I pull out a rubber band and slip it over my wrist.
A snap for the driver who cut me off.
A snap for the girl who wouldn't stop jabbering
In the movie theater on her ridiculously large mobile phone.
A snap for the man who abandoned his kids.
A snap for the woman who punched them.
A snap. A snap. A snap.
Until my wrist is raw and red.
It should be tended to, but I just ignore it.
Life doesn't care so why should I?
I crawl into bed and shut out the noise
Until all that's left is the emptiness in my head.
Then I sleep.
But when I wake, something is different.
Something small has changed.
And my fingers travel of their own volition
To snap, snap, snap, snap, snap away.
But it's gone.
The band that held my anger in check,
The band that kept my mask in place,
The band that made me feel whole,
The band is gone.
And in it's place is a bandage--
My wound now wrapped and dressed
As it should have been.
I don't know who did it,
But someone was kind to me...
That little change slips over me
Like a new coat,
Makes me hold my head a little higher,
Slips into my soul
Like a good hot meal,
Makes me willing to smile a little easier,
And now I see a small respite
From the interminable persecution.


To those who do not have depression:
Your small acts of unasked for kindness towards us affected by any degree of depression can make a huge difference.

To those who suffer this along with me:
*There is always hope. We just need to learn to lift our heads up and look for it.

I'm languished here in lack of lit'rature,
for treading words - writ oceans black and pale.
I woe my want of discipline demure
to hoist my mental canvas and set sail.
To set this sextant sentence south to north,
my odyssey sees strange sands lap aground
with trepidation slipping slowly forth,
and omnipresent, inauspicious sound.
Please show me now around this simple isle.
Lead me by hand to cliffs by time distressed.
Forgive me then if I retreat a while
to cast off, searching ****** shorelines' rest.
This covered ground, font foliage, anon
will meet me once this weary world is gone.

just like that, july
finale curtain fall,
and fog-laced everything
and future forever-question
less fear, less failure
more numb

we've been forewarned
the lake has risen
the tide, eternally arrived
and rain-frothed earth
that clings to cloth

I was born *****,
wiped fresh, and expected
to remain so
"Stay golden", no,
stay lily-white,
and mom and dad
I tried

we are told, from the beginning
over and over
a mantra of non-ending-knowing
"something is different about eighteen"
and in thirteen days
will I be
different

I look to nature
I look to strangers
I look anywhere but inward
for the last-piece-of

something there
is stirring, I think
something is certain
inherent in me
but I don't need to be certain,
no,
not immediately

The first time you saw
The white streaks of healed tissue
That ran across my arm, you said,
"I'm surprised but proud of you."

You were proud that I wore them
Like a badge of honor not shame,
That I didn't hide them like others
Did with their own.

Later, we talked about them again
And you revealed how you thought
I seemed to be used to them now
And I didn't notice them anymore.

Want to know what I notice?

I notice how strangers hesitate
When they see me or meet me.

I notice how mothers distract
Their kids when I walk past.

I notice the whispers then silence
When I move my arms.

I notice judgement from people
Who don't know the first thing about me.

I notice the looks of sadness or pity
But never acceptance.

I notice how my heart constricts
Because they don't know my story.

I notice how I hate myself more
For the fact that I am so messed up.

I notice the fact that I'm always aware
And completely unused to them.

The death of a loved one:
You don't get over, just used to.

This--these scars on the body and soul:
You don't get used to, just live with.

Would you go back in time
To do or say something different?

Yes.
Even if it didn't change
The course you chose in these last years,
I would do Thanksgiving '09 over again.

Actually, I would redo only one moment:
We were standing in the hallway
Of the house we'd been forced to rent
When all our fortunes had been lost.
You were storming out to greet me
With a frosty, icy glare.
My hand was raised in salutation,
My eyes were both eager and wary.
Before I knew what was happ'ning,
My glasses lay shattered on the floor.
Without a second's hesitation
Or look or exclamation,
I had run out the front door.

I would that I could redo that moment!
And this is how I'd hope it goes:
We meet in the hallway,
And your fist comes towards my face.
But before you can punch
My 21 year old visage,
My hand will stop you
And force you to look into my eyes.
Then I will say, "Mom, I love you."

Maybe your eyes would soften.
Maybe your heart would too.
Maybe you'd choose to try again
At being daughter, wife, mother.
Maybe you'd choose to stay.

And maybe history can't be amended,
Rewritten, retold, or changed.
I just wish my last words
Could've been "I love you."

SLAP.
My muscles tense.
SLAP.
My jaw tightens.
SLAP.
Sounds begin to dim.

Inhale.
One, two, three.
My pupils dilate.
Exhale.
Four, five, six.
My hands form fists.

Inhale.
Seven, eight, nine.
My heart hardens.
Exhale.
Ten. Ten. Ten.
It'll be over soon.

One, two, three, four, five.
Slow your heartbeat.
Six, seven, eight, nine, ten.
Be still, still as stone.

"You're basically a good daughter, but..."

Words can penetrate the stone hearted.

Words uttered a lifetime ago,
Yet I can't escape their ringing in my ears,
In my stone-hardened heart--
The center of this stone statue.