A trill of notes, a portal to the past.
I become a messy girl, far from home
with a loveless lover deep inside me.
Moans, pleasureless and satisfying,
remind me of my worth-- and it is
quite beyond this.
You do not deserve my tender touch,
the lilting of my eyes and graceful kisses.
They are not empty, no.
They are full of a sorrowful absence.
I do not really exist.
You're ******* a ghost.

salt water, salty skin
we are creatures of the sea:
churning waters of a storm,
calm ripples of a clear mind.
what will the day, the mind, the sky bring today?
creatures of the sea, our fingers link--
pale and soft gripping something rough,
nails bitten to the quick, that has become home--
as the waters of our own mind crash over head.
to go under or over, to cradle breath or
lose it to fear, is a choice.
this ocean, this sea, she teaches me great things.
I miss her stunning touch amongst the quiet and stony redwoods,
my companion and mentor.

i don't see you when i look in the mirror anymore
your eyes aren't burning behind mine, bloodshot and tired
there is a new vacancy about me--
i'm the only one here now, finally
(finally)

i am soft and filling in these empty spaces
with poetry, home cooking, and coconut oil
i don't cry about the afterlife, i just cry for me
(and only sometimes)
i'm not sorry about it--
your existence within me rotted, and quickly
we were grotesque partners in crime, but
i work much better as a single entity

profess self-love
scream it from the mountaintops--
not just in utah
i will lose myself in each moment, i will become lost within myself
i will laugh too hard, i will never apologize

give me time, love, and appreciation
i will if you don't
watch my eyes get clearer every day,
see me grow and grow and grow
(but i'm still 5'2)
i am a woman of the universe, producing poems
friendship, and vegetable stir fry
i am, i am, i am
forever

i'm writing this because i would like to have a
better answer when i'm asked,
"why did you do that to yourself?"

because i was learning, because i was small
because i tried to do too much on my own.
i didn't know what a mistake was,
and i didn't know they were okay

i did that to myself because i wasn't sure who i was,
but i didn't like her.
(do you like to hurt, i do, i do, hurt me)
i did that to myself because i was cold and hurting,
i wanted love but i was empty--
i broke myself down into a shell, battered and lonely
and waiting for someone who would never come back

i prayed for poison oak, stitches and drug overdoses
i wanted to die from the inside out, i wanted to
do it myself
and maybe someone would realize how sorry i was

i don't know what day it is, but
there are seven billion webs of experience getting
clearer and more tangled every moment;
bursting, unraveling, stretching to each corner
of this earth-- these paroxysms of human life
illuminate the caves and shadows of my ribs.
i feel the glow in my chest behind each breath,
behind each swelling of my lungs with atmosphere
and everything that i can feel. it hums
to me, reaches out to tickle plants--
they breath into each other, my pores are seeping with life
and aching to be touched by the universe.
so i reach out back--hello again, dear, i’ve missed you.
i spent months cradled in your embrace, the stars were
so bright, and my eyes never clearer.
an old sticky shell was shed, a parasite of the mind
which could only say, “i’m sorry, i’m sorry…”
a demon with her hand plunged down my throat and around my chest,
a whisper of someone who would not return--
i waited in vain.
but i can tell you that the smell of listerine and cigarettes
doesn’t bring tears to my eyes
anymore, my dreams no longer plagued with visions of mattressless beds.
my body exists the way it should: i eat plants and avoid chemicals,
especially ones that trick my brain into subdued happiness.
i give away all my hugs and kisses,
tell strangers their smile is the light of someone’s life--
i pet dogs and hug trees and cry because i didn’t ask for
this gift of consciousness and free will, but it’s the best thing i have

PTSD girl says sorry, PTSD girl says 'oh god, what have i done?'
PTSD girl says it over and over again, she repeats these words
she knows to be true forever
because truth is STATIC, YOU ARE STATIC??
'i'm sorry', those are the worst words.
sorry for WHAT, maybe you SHOULD BE
******* SORRY.
i am so ashamed and i hide my anger, please don't leak out,
please please just shut your mouth shut your heart
shut your lungs. hold onto everything
don't you dare grimace don't yell don't quake,
keep it whole keep yourself whole. apologize for  even
THINKING otherwise. puke out your anger.
take it out on yourself. PTSD girl is a secret
don't tell!! they'll ******* hate you

(dissolve me) not that my ego matters.
i crumble i shake i quake i shiver break DISSOLVE
it did on my tongue, i was naive.
i am lost and confused, withdrawing into my own head for safety
the same way i would rip apart my own being
to fell calm. safety is not about sacrifice.
i am lost. invisible disassociation because i do not belong
here, whatever that ******* word means am i even
seventeen? condescending sympathy and my stomach
is i knots knots knots, i ***** i'm sick
i am sick i'm sorry
what if i'm interpreting these signs wrong, although
right is not a priority. i am not broken,
not whole, not pieces, just a soul.
i crave myself, i crave words that i have yet to say,
do you have an elastic heart and do i too,
where can i get one? i am done here
but have much to do. i need to find myself within something
real i do not know where i have gone
please come back i'm missing you
WHERE ARE YOUR WORDS PLEASE