sometimes i feel that the reason the sun chooses to turn its back on this world and set and the reason that all light leaves is because you are not by my side and i miss you

every time the cool summer breeze steals from beneath barely cracked windowsills and disturbs my blankets i wish that you were there to fix them and to kiss me back to sleep

and when those summer breezes turn into hard winter winds i wish you were there to help keep me warm

your absence is the elephant in this room except this elephant has decided to sit squarely upon my chest
my every breath is labored and my hear aches for rest and for you

i miss you like puddles miss being part of the ocean

i miss you like a retired jet captain misses his deceased co-pilot

i miss you

these words are quickly becoming the only ones i remember how to say aloud and it is taking all of me to not scream them to the heavens

i am consumed by myself and my sorrow and all i can think is that i miss you.

I have always imagined your touch as sunlight
As the heat trapped beneath my blanket when I first wake up
As the rug warming my bare feet in the morning
But that was before I realized I was loving a ghost
Before I saw my breath in front of my face
And realized we had just shared our first kiss
Before I wrapped my arms around myself after walking outside
Feeling the air cut through my skin like a thousand knives
Now I see you in the bottom of every glass
When I am left feeling even emptier than before I took a drink
Now I see you at the bottom of every staircase
As a reminder that even if I would jump
You wouldn't be there to break my fall
Because no matter how far a ghost's arms may reach
They'd never be solid enough to catch me.

"its your fault that everything dies;
its because you don't love it enough."*
                                                                               so it was my fault
                                                                     that you killed yourself
                                                                   i mustn't have loved you
                                                                                                  enough
                                                                                           i'm so sorry
come back to me
and i'll love you
with even more
than my existence
i'll love you more
than anyone could
just come back to
me, i miss you
everything hurts
i'm sorry
it's my fault
i'm sorry
come back
please
i love you

i wish i wasn't so afraid of my forehead.

afraid i'll brush my bangs just the wrong way and someone will remark
"my god! that girl looks weird with her forehead showing."
afraid like i could change a part of my face.

i guess i could if i was one of those rich ******* on "housewives of ---"
or jwow on jersey shore
i could go shopping for new noses
and larger cheek bones.
like changing a feature of my face will make me more wantable
when it's the crap that comes out of my heart people don't like
instead

i wish i could bare my forehead
stick my ******* right up there for all to see
but i am afraid of my forehead

what is a forhead?
just a bit of skin
just a little forehead
that is what scares
this redheaded leopard

this is why lionesses hide in kitchens
majestic ******* that should be out there running things
this is why there are no women presidents
because we are afraid of
ourselves

baby got back.
baby got
sleeping problem
baby got
too-much-ice-cream-not-enough-vegetables-problem
baby got
bad case of the mean reds
baby got
curly hair problem
baby got
stepped-on-her-hair-straightener-problem
baby got
cat trouble
baby got
unattractive-boy problem
baby got
sore guitar fingers
baby got
too lazy to do laundry problem
baby got
smile-problem
baby got
elliot-problem
baby got
stress problem
baby got
anxiety problem
baby gonna
need help
they say
baby's in trouble
they say
baby needs a shovel
baby needs a backhoe
baby needs a drill
but baby's a girl,
so what baby really needs
is a man
to do the work

I never suspected I had OCD
Until I replayed your voicemail
On the answering machine
A total of twelve times
Every evening
Just to hear your voice again
Or until I opened your dresser drawer
Thirty times
Before I went to bed
Just so I could smell
Your leftover scent
Wafting into the air
Or until I rearranged my shoes
In the closet four times
Before I left the house
Because you hated tripping over them
On your way out
But I knew I didn't have OCD
When I finally locked the door
And turned off the light
And made the bed on your side
For the very last time.