he moved his hands like the wind,
they said he was crazy

I said he was from somewhere special
where the raindrops only fall on sad days
to match your mood

and the sun's rays are magnetized to those who
have hurt, shining on their wounds and lessening
their scars

I told them to be quiet and they grew buttons
where their mouths used to be;
one fell off of a little girl and all that came out
of her lips were butterflies-
they whispered "it's true"

and those people never looked at me the same
but every now and then a butterfly flutters by
and they remember something about a boy
with hands like a summer breeze and another
world where raindrops are tears and the sun
is healing, not harmful.

I don't take after my mother.
I am not sweet or selfless.
I am a bad person strung together entirely by
poor decisions and lack of judgement.
I don't take after my mother.
I am not a homewrecker.
I would not abandon my children nor
cheat on my husband.
I would not tell my suicidal daughter
to leave this world.
I have my mother's eyes, difference is
I have laugh lines.
I take after my father.
Addictive personality, but soft.
And also soft spoken.
Artistic. Alcoholic.
I have his nose and the same beauty mark above our lip.
I was born on a Sunday; it was raining.
My mom is like thunder and my dad is the rain.
I have no choice but to be the lightning.
Destruction's in my veins.

I don't take after my mother and I drink whiskey like my dad.
My family is a storm.

You are a beacon of light shining for me, the way home.
Which is a sort of contradiction because you are my home.
And right now I am just lost at sea.
I'm almost drowning in the ocean because I naively mistook it
for the depths of your eyes.
What a foolish, lovelorn mistake;
A mistake only lovers make.

For all I know you could give me an anchor disgused as a life preserver.
I'll take it because I trust too easily and I'll be thrusted down to the bottom
where the bodies of water keep their secrets.
I'm just another thing to keep quiet about.
Another mystery when the sun's up and another mistake when it's down.

The moon has a way of showing me for who I really am.
I want to yell out "**** you" to it for illuminating me but I'll swallow water.
Just like I have choked back my love for you all this time out of fear
of your silence.
A silence I am all too familiar with.

I use my last breath to say that I'll miss you.
But only the fish can hear me.
And frankly, they don't give a ****.

I like to write my name on a piece of paper over and over again
until it's messy enough that I forget who I am

Erasing the edges, smudging it out until my identity is nothing but a fast blur;
something that could only be noticed if you were looking for it-
something you would probably be disturbed to find anyways

Like when you're driving and you see an animal on the side of the road
and you have to pull over because it's your third week of being a vegetarian
and you almost have to force yourself to cry about it, but not quite

Or when you're cleaning your room and you find that old wooden box
you put your earrings in when you were seven years old
and now you're almost triple the age you were at that time
and you find those earrings, but there's only one of each so you put on mismatched ones
and cry yourself to sleep because you're missing parts of you that you thought would
always be there

"Mama said there'll be days like this,
there'll be days like this, my mama said"

On the messy days I like to forget who I am and pretend I'm still who I used to be.

Today is a Tuesday but to me it feels like Sunday evening
and every day feels like the day you left.
It's raining, and it fits my mood.
If you were here you'd tell me to smile, but what good is smiling
if you're not here to return it with your own?
I never really understood heartbreak until I gave you my heart.
Because I guess I forgot to mark it with "return to sender".
Unless you just wanted to keep it for yourself.
For all I know you could collect girls' hearts like
you collected the vinyl you couldn't play
because you didn't even have a record player.
I got a call from your mom last week.
She said she missed me, and then she told me the news.
I guess I should have seen it coming.
But like everything, I put too much faith in the universe.
I never thought that it would really take you away.
I miss you like it was yesterday but I was lying before.
It wasn't last week that I got the call,
it will be four years in the fall.
And everyday feels like the day you left.
Sleep sweetly.