I always remember you; it would be despicable to forget
You're smile I'd rarely see, that brightness in your face I would rarely find
But that made you beautiful and strong
Of course, if you were still here you'd tell me I was wrong

I believed we were inseparable, even at daunting times
But I guess that even I couldn't stop the bond breaking
As you fell away
Fell, fell, fell from my grasp

I've gone on with words to hide my sorrow, but now, oh now I cannot hold it in
I miss you, I can't say it enough, tears form as I write this
I am losing my mind slowly, you escaped this hell, but here I still am
You told me you were going to rise, all I could give was a broken goodbye

How did I let this happen, someone special like you to go?
I repent my sins and hope you forgive me
I pray everyday that you're somewhere you are at peace
You told me, stay strong, but oh how I've failed

As I'm falling apart every second that you're away
Maybe, I shall see you again, by following your footsteps someday
As everything is flawed, oh what am I doing here?
While I could be with you, somewhere up there

What can I do? What can I say?
You're not replying, you've gone away.
I thought that maybe, you might care,
but those feelings you mentioned, weren't even there.
I only existed, to sate your lust,
and I am reminded, that all is dust.

You were my gift,
Soft, sweetness, little one,
Eyes of moon and ocean
Hills of creation, of shadow
And bread.  In your nakedness
I fled the earth and bathed
In starlight and dust at the end
Of the forever of the sky.  
In that silence,
Of exploding cosmos and vapour,
I fell, feeling in your smiles the suns
Decay, I felt light beyond
Its barrier, and was decimated
In the gravity of the neutron
Blue of floating eyes in separation.
Your faraway orbs were lost
To me in the frozen dark energy
Of shunted light and the cold 
vacuum of space.
It was my birthday
And you were set on leaving.
It was my birthday
When I nearly died.

You're looking at this poem,
Thinking I'm lonesome,

Or perhaps you're thinking I'm in love,
Though truly, I'm free as an uncaged dove.

Then why would I say I'm loving someone?
Truly, I'm writing this for you lovers, or just anyone.

My heart's been cold and dry for a while,
So this won't make me smile,

But here's hoping you'll give your heart a test-run,
Maybe find a loved one.

Have more success than I ever will,
Tell someone you'll love them even if the world ends, still.

Find a place in their heart,
Swear you'll never be apart.

Never let go of their hand,
As if your wrists are bound, you're sinking in your love's quicksand.

A brilliant drowning,
Minutes you'll never be counting.

You won't give up; promise me that,
Though writers are heartbroken, give your heart a door mat.

Let someone in the door,
You'll never need anything more.

An open letter to those who have dealt or tried or whichever with me during my depression and/or anxiety.

I wish I could stop. I hear that a lot. "Just stop." As if it were a switch I can turn on and off at my own will. If I could, I would've disabled that switch the minute I learned what the on was designed to do. If only I could stop if only I could

"Think positive" I hear that the most. I didn't think of that, nor did the twenty something people before you. As if I haven't dived into the deep end of positive affirmations for the riptide of negativity to pull me 20 times under. For every positive thought, my brain's defense brings up 20 reasons that the positivity isn't real or won't last, or my favorite, why do you even deserve to be positive.

I don't forget all the times you've said "people have it so much worse." I am so ungrateful for the roof over my head and the food I get to eat or the daily drinks I use to muffle the voices inside. I hate the privilege of having my friends and loved ones look at me through foggy lenses and lend me their advice. It comes from the bottom of your heart but it doesn't come from experience.

Oh and how can I forget how I'm acting like this out of attention. I promise if I wanted the attention, I would get it in a manner much more humorous instead of a pitiful pit stop of a parade I feel some of you think I am. I am not trying to guilt you or appeal to your pathos. I much prefer to evoke your happiness with jokes that mask the constant desire to not even exist.

Then it comes down to the people I've bared my mascara streamed, tear soaked, bare souled self to. I'm talking to you. The one who I know won't understand but I at least expect to be there. Because I know that when you only deal with it once a month it isn't a problem, take some asprin and put a ****** in and it's over before you know it. God forbid this curse drowns me for a week or two or three. I'm sorry to put a damper on your life. The one where you chant the positives and get on with it. You have the choice to leave. I don't.

I don't surrender to this illness. "I'm not a vicitm" I repeat constantly. I'm not trying to make up excuses as to why it's okay to act like this. I fight every day for a little breathing space, and sometimes I am consistently losing battles in this civil war for my own mind. I apologize that you bear the burdens of being on the front row sidelines of this imax screening of my life.

You see, when the anxiety is over, and the food I haven't eaten for a week is molded now, depression takes stage. Right on cue. A constant back to back showing for boys and girls, it's fun for the whole family. But even like the longest movies of our life, there are intermissions. I sometimes get to step outside the theatre and am reminded that it's still sunny outside, that there is a fresh breeze. I can hear my own thoughts for a moment and they aren't trying to **** me. I am reminded that I have people I love and who love me, despite every reason I have that they don't. I hold onto that feeling and submerge myself so when the next riptide pulls me under, I can somehow find myself at the surface.

Sometimes I resurface with new or stronger allies, and sometimes I lose them in the battle. Casualties of war. Those hurt the worst. The people I love the most, leaving me to find the surface alone. It's enough reason to start the next showing. Like that, I return to my stage, my battlefield, my diving board until the next intermission.

Don't look at me like that
like you love me, like you need me
don't look at me, with your eyes so lovely
and your stare, so intently, and hold my hand so gently

Don't talk to me,
like you understand so clearly
like you'd help so readily
and sacrifice so easily

Cause love once had me
It once had held me, held me so tightly
squeezed the life out of me
and in that memory
were eyes like yours shining back at me
a voice like yours screaming at me
a stare like yours glaring at me

I've wondered time and time again what the world must look like to an artist. Especially nature.
I get lost in the clouds when I stare too long..
sometimes, most times I hate myself for not having the words to explain what's in my head.
If I tried to describe how the sun feels on my skin or,
flying above the clouds looking down,
I just don't have the words..

A blanket covering the earth I would say or  a warmth I wish to touch. I don't have words I say..

I wish I did know though so I could share my exact feelings  with whoever  is accepting.
Some day I wish to use my words as a paint brush, maybe then I would be considered an artist too.

I watched you fade away,
At a quicker pace
Than the bruises you left, on my body.

I. You told me that you saw the universe in my eyes whenever we stared at each other for longer than six seconds. The universe is infinite and I thought you were comparing it to our love.

II. You fell in love with the way I laughed and acted around you because I reminded you of a rose bud that you planted on your garden. Little did you know, a rose has its thorns and I'm guessing you weren't prepared for that.

III. The first time you looked at me with tears streaming down my cheeks, you blamed me for being so ugly looking. I was cursing myself when you walked out the door and didn't look back.

IV. Months after you left and I was buried deep under the ground, he found me. ***** and covered in mud, he washed me from head to toe. I knew I'd fall for him.

V. He and I had our first kiss on New Year's Eve and he gave me hope more than you ever did. I knew I deserved him.

VI. I saw you walking down the street while I was holding his hand and the next thing I knew, you were screaming so loud I could barely understand what you said. Later, I found out that you were cursing me for being freed by him from where you buried me.

VII. I found a letter by the front door the very next day and all that it said was how the writer could still see the mud on my face and on my back, just like the last time they saw me. I knew the writer was you.

VIII. The night he found out about the letter, he hugged me ever so tightly and he swore he wouldn't let anybody harm me. Let the Power above dealt with the problem.

IX. I'm happier than ever now that I know I have someone whom I can hold on to. I don't even see any mud on my face; it is you who's covered with dirt the most.