How do you sit while reaching out aboce your ocean of tears?
The water keeps overflowing, but you are not moving
The question is not why you cry
but why you sit criss-cross with your head down with not a will in the world to even think
I fear not seeing you on the other side
Don'y fall behind
You are by me, girl
In this world, the people hate and the animals listen
The eyes of millions fall in comfort when they lie
The eyes of millions cry when their lovers lie
This has no point
The moment called for this
I expressed and delivered, this way
I chose to type these words, letters...language....to explain how I see... how I feel

The format doesn't make sense

I'm trying, you should too

Barely

For so long were we happily united.
The divergence began a few years later.
It marked a time of sad and poignant loss.
A death with no cadaver.

What had we lost?
What had been ours to share and was no more?
How to apportion blame?
Why should blame even need to be considered?

There had been so much unity.
Our lives had meshed so thoroughly
and what had fingered one,
had snared the other.

Nothing is ever lost  (a physical law).
Every negative implies a positive.
So where was to be found
the serenity and joy
that had marked so many gleeful years?

The vacuum was vast and needed to be filled.
Her arms were opened wide;
while mine were clenched about myself.

I thought I could discern a pattern:
a repetition of highs and lows.
Perhaps, I thought, this could be the start
of a voyage of self-discovery,
and since, as Proust has said,
such voyages are less concerned
with seeking new landscapes,
than having new eyes,
I will have to microscopically
examine every facet of myself,
in order to find my true identity.

Then, perhaps, we will also learn
how to restore that unity.

And yet, and yet, the question
returns and re-echoes again and again:
After so many years, so many years,
how could we diverge so rapidly?

The light burns brightest,
  that burns within

The embers warm,
  as memory dims

That final verse,
  an Angel’s hymn

The light burns brightest,
—that burns within

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2017)

Why does quitting have negative connotation
I am drowning mentally
Yes, other people have been in my spot
Yes, others have surpassed my position
I want to quit not because I can't do it
But because if I do
I'll loose myself for nothing
No one will be satisfied
Including myself
I am only 19
And I pray for my death at least 5x a day
Just so I wont be classified as a quitter

I hope my words
float in your head
like multicolored balloons
unraveled from their weights

Your sun stained hair
no longer melts
between my fingers

it's sad to think that
a person that once were your sunshine
now only brought you rain
the person that you know as happiness
now only brought you pain
he opened your door and left
now you were never the same

His eyes penetrate the mirror,
And the glass penetrates him back.
Tears rain down his cheeks,
And his semblance undergoes a crack.

His head hits the pillow,
His eyelashes flutter along to dreams.
Mother watches with weepy eyes,
Then sunlight through the window beams.

His heart flutters like a leaf in a breeze,
Excited by the man before his eyes.
For years he has struggled
With this affection he was taught to despise.

Even as his heart tells him what to do,
The boy continues to hide his truth.
It seems there is much to lose,
It seems a way to ruin his youth.

But the secret ails him—
A condition untreated.
Without exploration,
His heart remains defeated.

Destruction clasps onto him, an iron grip,
And his demons come alive.
He begins to hate himself,
Struggling to survive.

Hatred finds him during his adolescence—
Like a deadly blade wishing him dead.
To survive, he learns a simple truth—
His beliefs must be shed.

Now a cloak of happiness hangs from his shoulders—
His boyfriend is in his arms.
He has parted with society’s silly notions,
Of which only dealt him harm.