i always regret the nights i stay awake
for no reason at all
except to trace and retrace every fear
that lies awake on my chest
the evening grows closer to the sun
and more unproductive
c h  o   p     p      e      d
into little bits where the light creeps in
a hazy glow, lost memories that are insignificant
and not much of a loss
down feathers scattered across an orange sunrise
and pillows piled on top of piercing silence
all i wish
is to be asleep
tucked into a dreamland
where nothing can excite me

i was sixteen, you were pretending
young and lonely, someone else
my imaginary friend,
who was never really a friend

deep in the shadows, you lurk,
a memory that won’t repress,
you were a distraction
from my mess of a reality, a place
to freely feel, although it was ugly

a mess
apart from
a mess

one that was okay because
it didn’t really exist,
a black-and-white silent film,
spinning on the screen and then forgotten,
i could turn it off and it would
be gone, you would be gone, you are gone

but you were never really there,
and i lie here motionless
caressing the memories of a ghost

you make so much sense
amidst the tangled vines of
learning and unlearning
please don’t go before i get better

i want to keep falling asleep to your voice till the world stops existing.
i wish i could dissolve up out of my body and take a photo from
above of me lying here, arms outstretched and duvet covering
most of me except for a few strands of hair peeking out because
then you could see how tired i am, i am so tired.

the panic begins at night
and it follows me through
the day,
anchors me to my bedroom
floor when everyone begins to
shut their doors and turn out their
lights

my ceiling doesn’t look like
a galaxy, or even just a
ceiling, it feels like a hand
lowering
itself, slowly,
until i’m stuck beneath fingernails

i change my sheets, bathe my dog,
it lingers inside my throat
my twin mattress feels like i’m
drowning in a bathtub

there are tan lines on my
shoulders where your arms should be

in my house, i’m not alone,
but when the moon is in the sky,
and my friends are in their beds,
and these incessant thoughts
are in my head,

i might as well be

i’m in a constant battle with reality and pretend
with who i am, who i want to be,
and who i wish i could be

with picking up the pieces, painting portraits of something
strong, something whole,
something to be proud of
and shattering crystal vases on wooden floors

while smiling, without blinking
with seeing just how far i can run away from myself
without forgetting myself

i lie in my bed, and i sip my tea
and it feels like the rain outside is going to
swallow me whole

and i’m happy
and i’m sad
and i’m panicked
and i’m trapped
and i’m everything
and i’m scared

and the sky is dark
blue and the night is
so dizzy

          and so am i

and i’ve forgotten how to exist

you are not a hospital room
you don’t have to keep everything
pure-white and sterile

you are ugly red clay on the walls
covering up your bruises with
pink cotton-candy fluff and
bright yellow smiley-face stickers
that you saved from first grade
living out of your car
and calling it a slumber party; sleep-away camp
far away from the monsters beneath your bed

you don’t have to paint your cheeks
with roses, leaving out parts of you like
a mad libs story we played to pass the time
on long car rides to the coast

we can sit in silence
while the world around us buzzes
with all its uncertain chaos and
my soul will find yours
in the space that rests above
this mess of existing

i’m not sure how artists have the patience
to sculpt marble slabs into gods
or why they feel it’s worth their time

but i do know that
the nights i stay up until 3 a.m. are usually the worst
and the mornings i wake up at 8 a.m. are usually the
best

and that it’s worth the money to buy a decent mattress
instead of losing sleep on fiscal responsibility
and i feel grown-up having wrapping paper in my closet
and extra birthday cards in my desk

and i might always be crazy
always holding on to pieces of the past
tacking them to my bedroom walls
and pretending it’s okay that i still think about it all

but i won’t forget that some people are brave enough
to put on big white suits and fishbowl helmets and leave
their families to go walk on the moon
or that i flew on a plane by myself even though i was
absolutely petrified of being alone in the sky
or that spring exists,
and that winter cannot, and will not, last forever