This Year
When your tear-filled eyes
are looking for
someone to fall in love with,

Make sure you look in the mirror.

When people say “rekindle an old flame,”
I find it very misleading.
That flowery wording
Makes it sound so
Musical
So Promising

What it really is
Is that *** lighter
That you sparked
And resparked
And swore wasn’t empty
Before leaving in your pocket
Sometime ago.

When you found it,
you lit up,
Friction flicked that
Wheel
And watched that
Flame dance once more,
Enough to ignite one more
Toxic thought

Getting you high from the
Smoke
Clouding the past
Leaving you
Staggered
When your fingers
Bleed
Begging for
Fire

And you crack it open,
Look for what’s more
Not even smelling
Butane

Just smelling
Nothing.

It’s empty.

I would be willing to go way of all flesh,
if it meant I could feel those estranged fingers
graze my brazen cheek,
to feel the blooming heat
of your anatomy and will.

Eyes of glacial stone,
heart of ruby,
clear, rich, and red.

Shadow cast,
who are you, dark drifter?
A speculation, as dreams are.

But consider
these wraiths of the mind are real,
as the author has spoken to herself in reverie,
and seen the celestial horizon,
in half-body, half-sleep.

When we first met you told me I had bad habits.
I bit my nails when I was anxious,
I bounced my knee when I did something wrong.
I wasn’t very confident.
I took your words to heart,
and I tried changing those habits.
I hoped you’d notice each time I didn’t do them,
each time an alternative arose.
As I focused more and more on pleasing you than myself,
you grew distant.
I kicked myself ****** on my own two feet.
I attempted to be strong,
strong enough to love you when you couldn’t love yourself,
but it wasn’t enough.
It took me a while to adjust once you left.
Most of those habits returned.
I grew to accept them.
The few habits I dropped for good are the ones I don’t miss.
I suppose my worst habit of all of them was
loving you.

I fell for your charm.
It started with the tattoos lining your arm,
each themed like the sea.
After beginning to see what we could be,
I told you that you were an ocean.
I always told you that you were deep,
and that being deep was okay,
that there was nothing wrong with emotions.
But I also told you I was terrible at swimming.
I started to try learning each day,
but I drowned in you,
and it seemed you did too.
I avoided decay
though you led me astray.
I wasn’t ready to learn,
and you, not ready to teach.
I needed your help but refused to beseech.
Just know I forgive you for bringing me such pain.
I’ve become stronger each day,
less selfish with personal gain.
And despite my knowing I will always feel worn,
if I feel too weak,
I’m never too far from shore.
Being alone is a struggle no more.