I am no better like a sad poetry

Atleast let me be the poem that I always am.

My lucifer is lonely

Do not promise
To love me to the moon
And back
I don't want that
Just love me
Right by my side
And do not leave

The pressure cracks my bones
like a lofty barrel
Weighing a top my tormented back.

My rib cage once housed a humming bird
That half dead, plague ridden thing
flew away long ago.

you never asked to read my poetry
maybe that was the sign.
i told you i wrote for fun,
you shrugged and moved on.

Life
                                                            ­    has
            a
                       funny
     way
                                           of
                                  
                                ruining

      
                                                      Lives.

In 2019,
I want more.

Want more sunrises
More rolling out of bed with a purpose

More afternoons curled in a love seat

I want a garden
inside me and in my backyard

More friends
More nuzzles from dogs

More oceans

More allowance to make mistakes
After all, you were brave enough to try.

More stillness
More belly laughs
More love letters

More sway in my hips
Cool breeze on my lips

More looking in the mirror to see my smile
not the width of my thighs

More finding shapes in the clouds

More moments that leave me breathless

More life
All the painfully messy beautifully chaotic morsels
dripping from my chin

In 2019,
I want more.

To forgive is to forget,
or so I am told.
Erase the memories
you need to unload.

Self inflict amnesia
absolve from within.
Don’t bare the scars
of another mortal sin.

But I need to remember
I don’t need to forget,
the sorrow I swallow
in each Percocet.

Misery is a friend.
She reminds me often,
the torment I suffered
cannot be forgotten.