We cannot write silence.
The beats.
The pause.
The breath.
The way it aches
and persists

and begs that,

if only for a moment,

our consciousness is only a whisper.
our bodies,
our lips,
the air that passes through falling chests
and stillness.

A melody of emotion.
Sleeping in the quiet of a heartbeat skipped
a word lost to the wind.

The wickedness of reticence
Encapsulated in air and time.

The moment stretched too long.
Hesitation perpetuated in the grip of fingernails
pressed into palms.

We cannot write silence,
but we can try.

to find a way to immortalize emotion
to create space
in the ceaseless drone of words that speak and spin.

I cannot write silence. But I can write
tears and years
and the burn of long-stretched lies.

I can write goodbyes and hellos
And dozen ways to say
I love to hate you
Or
I hate to love you
and sometimes
I cannot tell the difference.
Silence.
The space I have upheld for myself.

I love to hate you
Heart.

I hate to love you too.

I cannot write silence.
But I know it.
and I have held it in my hand.

I could tell you what is on my mind
That I'm worried and scared and anxious
That i really wish i was alone right now
But then I'd be naked.

I could tell you all my strengths and weaknesses
I could tell you that I'm afraid of the dark when i sleep so i turn on the lights
But i could tell you that I'm also afraid of the shadows and what lurks behind the curtains.
But that would make me naked.

I could tell you that i hate photographs
and photoshoots.
And that it hurts to pose.
For a picture
To be analysed by a glass lens
Only to have the best parts of my life
erased by an editing app
Because nobody wants to see scars on Instagram
I could tell you that it makes me sick
And that i wish people loved the real thing
But then I'd be naked

I could tell you that I'm living my dream at the expense of my mother's love
Her smile has become an eclipse
Rare and blinding.
Not mine to see, anymore
I miss her though she misses me too i know but I chose the devil in my head
But that would make me naked

You could tell me about that time last year
You couldn't get out of bed
When you wouldn't get out of bed
Because your heart felt like lead
When only your bed could hold you back
And your sheets could hug you better
And I'd understand because I've been there before
Because then you'd be naked

Without the clothes and baggage
That shame us into silence
The shoes of depression
that lead us into violence
suicidal thoughts just cause
We can't be honest
And don't have the courage to simply be naked.

Prefer the flimsy armor
Of "how are you's" and "i am fines"
Fearing to expose what lies under these
Clothes
Genuine interactions and intimate confessions

I am tired ...i am tired
Of these clothes
I want to be naked
Not behind closed doors
But right here
So should i start removing

When we fell asleep video chatting every night for a month
When I cried because you were the first person to make me feel like I wasn’t alone
When you excitedly told me about kissing a girl in a cemetery
When you sent me videos of your dirt bike
When we went cruising and listened to songs from our favourite band
When you tried to teach me how to game
When you told me everything you love about your girlfriend
When you talked about engines and cars with me even though I didn’t understand
When you saw I was feeling bad even at the one place I’m always happy
When you didn’t ask questions when I asked you to get rid of my razors, but instead told me how proud you were
When you held me as I cried, knowing I hate crying in front of people
When you let me fall asleep holding you even though I was cold and wet
When you held my hand when we woke up on the day when everyone had to leave
When you let me hug you a hundred times because you knew how much I’d miss you

When you gave me closeness and friendship and love unlike anything I’d ever known before

When we sat in my porch for 3 hours after fireworks were shot at people during a party, so you could make sure I was okay
When you let me cuddle you even though your friends would give you a hard time
When you told me you’d help me out if anyone ever hurt me
When you took a selfie with me
When you carried me everywhere *** I was tired
When you held my hand going down a steep trail because I couldn’t see and you knew I was scared
When you brought me extra food because you knew I skipped lunch
When you were protective over who I was friends with
When I came over to your house for the first time and we made pizza, gamed, and hung out with your family
When you had you first kiss with me

When you always showed you were protective of me and became the big brother I never had

When you told me you were bi on the first day we met
When you told me that only people you know well or that you like get to know you’re bi
When you cried and told me all your favourite facts and memories of a friend who had betrayed you
When you told me I had a cute nose
When you fell asleep holding my hand
When we hugged eachother after not seeing eachother for a year
When we kissed for the first time
When we kissed more
When you were my date
When you told me I was the only non-celebrity you’d go gay for
When we danced together
When we agreed to have an annual one week relationship

When you were the first girl I loved

When I met these people I never thought we’d get to the point were at now.
I doubt I’ve effected their lives as much as they’ve effected mine but it doesn’t even really matter because I have them and that’s all that matters to me

Roses are dead
Violets are dying
You tell me that I’m barely trying
I’m crying I’m dying
I’m foolishly using the time I’m buying
To tell you I’m fine
That I’m okay
That no, I don’t want to die today
But I’m lying
Well not completely lying
It’s not that I want to die but more
I don’t want to be alive
Alright?
So see I really am trying
But trying so hard if inside you’re dying
Like the violets and the roses
You’re so done
With the violence and the rope says
He can help you out of here
You’ll take the chance he can take you anywhere
Where the people are all ok and the parents start to care
But the rope is wrong
His promises give a scare
As you realize he’s leading you up some grand white stairs
To a gate  
And you think you’ve finally met your fate
And then a small thought creeps inside your head
You wonder if you’re really left of better dead
And you think of your life and all the little pretty things that made you feel you were the King of Kings
The happiness that life sometimes brings
Between the stings
The times when you feel like there’s hope to find
You’ll start to find
The glowing gates aren’t really looking all that kind
And you’ll close your eyes
And you’ll realize that you should give life one last try
To do you right
And you’ll walk back down those stairs and return to life

And years from now when you think back to this dark night
You’ll smile and be thankful that you walk away
From the gates that day
You made your life worth living and love everyday

So don’t go up the stairs just yet
Please just give it one more shot
Give all you’ve got
You’ve got to see the love that you’ve always sought

Here’s a little story
About a daughter
And her family

See the daughter has depression and anxiety
But the mother is oblivious
The mother is unaware of the depression
She genuinely believes that cutting and the fact that her daughter goes to therapy are linked to anxiety

And yet
Even though the mother seems to think that it’s only anxiety
Meaning that the anxiety is that extreme
She still wakes the daughter up
By screaming
She still questions the daughter
In front of a crowd
She still yells at the daughter, overwhelms her
And sends her into a panic attack

And yet all the people on the outside see is a mother worried about her daughter
And trying to help her
By taking her to therapy
But they don’t see the locked doors
They don’t see the screaming
The name calling
The belittling
They don’t see
That the mother
Is the reason that the daughter
Has to fight
So **** hard
To want to live

They don’t see that the daughter is only happy with her friends
They don’t see the scars on her arms, legs, and hips
They don’t see that the daughters only escape is when she’s not at home
They don’t see that the very therapist the mother takes her to
Is proud of the daughter
For staying alive
In such
Rough
Circumstances
Blood doesn’t mean family

But enough about the mother lets move on to the father.
The father that refused to pay child support for the first 3 years after the divorce
The father that had a second child, the daughter’s half brother, with another woman
The father that is engaged to a different woman now
The father that, when evacuated from his city due to a fire, took his fiancé to Jamaica instead of seeing his kids
The father that forgot his daughters birthday
The father that is “old school”
Which just means
Sexist
And homophobic
Blood doesn’t mean family

Next is the sister
The sister that supports me
The sister that laughs with me
The sister that understands how I feel
The sister that helps me when I need it
The sister that believes in me
That loves me
The sister creates fun and amazing stories and experiences with me
Just because she’s in the mood to have fun
The sister that raised me to be a good person
That taught me
And teaches me
How to get through life
Blood doesn’t mean family

Finally
The friends
The friend that gave me a reason to live
The friend that gave me a reason to laugh
The friend that showed me that it can get better and that they love and care for me and they don’t just “hope I get through this” but that they are going to be there and make sure that I get through this
The friend that marched with me with a rainbow
The friend that treated my relationships the same as straight ones
The friend that told me she’s open to the experience if I want to kiss her
The friends that I can flirt with and we laugh about it
The friends that I can flirt with and it becomes a little more than just friends
The friends who maybe I’m not as close with but who still show interest in my life and what I’m interested in and let me talk about activism because it makes me happy to empower people
The friend that made me believe in beautiful
The friend that stayed up with me when I had a nightmare about my molesting and help my hand until I fell back asleep
The friend that stated up all night on FaceTime singing songs together from our favourite band
The friend that boosts my ego when we go to the gym
The friend that cried when she found out I self harmed
The friends that worry about me and want me to get better
The friends that live far away
The friends that live close by
The friends that have shown me more love and happiness in the past year than I’ve known my whole life
The friend that was there even when I felt numb to the world and they just let me be but they made sure I know they’re here
The friends that ask questions when they don’t understand
The friends that are interested in what I do
The friends that offer me a place to stay should I need it
The friends who make sure I eat
The friends who worry when I don’t eat
The friends who sit at the back of the bus
The friends who get drunk
The friends who throw skittles at people
The friends who are in my class
The friends who are older than me
The friends who are younger than me
The friends who help me with homework
The friends who show me there are good people in the world
The friends
Who stick by me
And show me
That
Blood doesn’t mean family

We don’t choose the situation we are born into
But we do get to choose
Who our family is
So thank you
To my real family
For not only keeping me alive
But making me happy to be.

Long wavy brown hair
Freckles against otherwise creamy smooth skin
Long eyelashes and dark brown puppy eyes
Loud laughter and big smiles
Confidence boosting and adventure inducing
Long summer nights filled with new experiences
Long talks about things that hurt
Longer talk about things that don’t
Fun and mischief laced into every step
Every heartbeat being worth it
Absolutely breathtakingly perfection
Everything I’ve ever wanted
And for a while
I’ve finally got it
And you make everything so extraordinary

I write what I think
I think what I feel
I feel what the world gives me

The world gives me hope
The world gives me hopelessness
It gives me love
And lack of it
It gives me pain
And fear of it
Gives me beauty
And all forms of it
Gives me happiness
And ways to keep it (I still lose it)

All of these things, I write.

But you have to be in pain to be a writer

When I write about being violated
It becomes infamous
When I write about dying
Everyone loves it
But
When I write about the one thing that brings me happiness
Everyone is silent

You are silent

Because
People don’t want to see you’re getting better
People don’t care what’s brought you hope
They don’t care that you are finding happiness.
They want you to write what they feel
Write what they think but can’t say themselves so that they have someone to relate to
Write their pain so that you can be seen
Write how they feel in order to be alnowledged

But I don’t want to write for them
I only want to write for me
What I feel
What’s in my head
But I’ll never be known by doing that
Because I’m trying to get better
I’m trying to be happy

But you have to be in pain to be a writer