I have nothing to say because you've made me realise how stupid I've been and nothing can make it better now.
It can't be fixed. It's broken. Shattered.

How stupid I was to believe what we had was ever strong enough to withhold everything you made me feel, the weight of the pain, the duality of our emotions
how naïve I was to believe in the unachievable, that I could reach the unreachable

I've realised how much I have been used, just something on the side that's always there for convenience, for the experience, but never for the love that I deserved

And how stupidly naïve I've been to keep playing your twisted game, to keep convincing myself that your lies were the truth - even through doubt and accusations I believed in you, to keep allowing myself to fall deeper and deeper into the quicksand that was consuming me, the water that was drowning me, the light that was blinding me that was

stupid, stupid, stupid

I've realised how much one tiny thing can affect you and make you feel so much that you don't know what to feel, so you just feel nothing, empty, worthless

I've realised how quickly you can go from being everything to someone, their whole world, then the next moment you're everything you never thought you'd be  - a broken music string, a shard of broken glass, something that was once part of something beautiful, but that they no longer need, easily replaceable yet imperfectly replicable

How someone transforms from a caring companion to a silent stranger without you noticing or believing, and you waste your days and nights stupidly, relentlessly torturing yourself with thoughts about the exact moment that this transformation may have occurred, torturing yourself about all the things you should have done, should have said, but you didn't, suddenly carry the weight of all the sadness and heartache in your life

But of course this weight is still yours. And the carrier is still you.
Or rather the shadow of what you should have been.

I still have nothing to say. A million thoughts but no words. I will not let words betray me - my thoughts keep me safe. I will not let emotions consume me - small hope keeps me sane. it is

stupid, stupid, stupid

to believe that I don't deserve to carry this weight all the way out of the broken path of pain and regret, to release it in the light of new possibilities and new ideas and new behaviour because I am now free
- I can be who I want to be and think what I want to think and say what I want to say -
I will no longer be broken glass but a mosaic, no longer a broken string but an instrument, because no one is obstructing the construction of my goals and no one is disrupting the formation of my dreams and no one is making me believe I don't deserve what I want, that I don't deserve more than what you gave me.

I've realised how stupid I was to believe in you.

he stood in class
drowned by lust.

his wrist was the canvas
the razor was the paintbrush.

he had the colours around him
the colours that spills and
finishes when you need them.

but he wants to paint

and so he did.

he started to paint
the most absolute picture seen

to the ones around
self harm

to him
he was merely

a painter.

there once was a young girl with green eyes
who wore her soft blond hair
in braided pigtails

at the age of seven,
she watched her older sister
stand in front of the mirror before school
and pinch her stomach with a disgusted face
          neither of them ate breakfast that morning

at the age of nine,
she watched her older brother
make fun of a girl with glasses
for reading on the bus
          she went home and hid all her books in the attic

at the age of twelve,
she watched the older girls at school
with straight hair and short skirts
put makeup on in the bathroom
and discuss how boys would only like you
if you looked perfect, like them
          the next day she arrived with red lips, short shorts, and no braided pigtails

at the age of fourteen,
she watched her father hit her mother for the first time
her mother cried when she saw her standing in the doorway
and told her daddy didn't mean it
          the next year, she told herself that her boyfriend didn't mean it, either

at the age of sixteen,
she was paper thin and empty
with straight blond hair, red lips,
purple flesh, and lifeless green eyes
          while staring at her reflection in the bathroom mirror,
          she thought to herself "at least i'm normal."

(i) want to ask about how she hurt you
the summer that you (changed)
(but) i am afraid that the truth
will make you realize
how many flaws (i) hold
because she had so little.

and i am afraid that my imperfections
were your favorite things about her.

i'm scared you (won't) smile like you did
with her in arms.

because she is the kind of perfect
i could never (be).

i am afraid that i am not (good)
at making you happy.

mostly i am afraid that i won't be
(enough).

j.l

How do you stop this debilitating aching
Within your chest?

And how do you keep from drowning,
When all you can do is sink,
Choking on water thicker than cement?

Have you ever tried to convince those around you
That you are in love with the very person they hate?

How do you walk again
After falling,
Crawling and then shattering every limb?

And who ever taught you to breathe,
After suffocating on sorry's and do you still love me's
And spewing up your lungs corrupted with
False innocence and lies?

Through the patterns of the trees
or rather
the rays of sunlight poking it's way through
drawing out the twists and turns that are nature
she found herself
Within the mossy green and cold gray stones
sitting along biding their time
waiting for someone to notice
she found herself
She dared not fret over the small things
things like the end off the world
she was at home and at peace in the woods
where she could sing with the birds
flow with the endless streams
and stand tall like the redwoods surrounding her
Where she started, where she lives, where she would die
She found herself

--

Maybe
Sometime between now and then
We all got lost
Within the fine silver lines of a cloud
we lost ourselves
When we all step into the golden sunlight
we leave our old selves behind
and become free.

Turn the tides like you turn unwanted heads
Crystal eyes make everything better
Clear your mind of the dreaded hotel beds
She may crumble down like dust, don’t let her
Watch the paper cranes fall as you burn down
Taking over the once jejune city
Drowning in the tears of a washed up clown
It’s become a way of taking pity
So sit on down in that old, dusty, chair
And look right out the window, what it is
the people, they say with uniform care
Trust us, we are free, in this land of his
When you see a fork in the road, don’t pass
Look to the sun, and walk into the grass