I played her some songs I like;
She asked "why I like sad songs?"
I told her "because I like the lyrics"
Then she asked me if I'm sad
And I said "yes a little bit".
She said "why"
And that question made me
Even feel sadder.
I just told her "I don't know"
But in my head I knew
I just didn't want to tell her
I felt she was too young to know
Too young to know that
I got my heart broken
Into Pieces by this
Guy I thought really loved me
I still feel sad because
It hurts me a lot
And I live in this state where
He didn't do any of it.

That it's all a dream
And soon I'll wake up
And realize it isn't real
And in another world
I still feel that were together

I'm still stuck on Him
And I don't know what to do
I want to cry but no matter
How hard I try
Tears won't come out.
As if I ran out of tears
Or as if there's a wall holding it
All back.
I'm scarred

If I listen to happy songs will I be happy?
If, so please let my ears listen and
Fill my heart with happiness and good
With positive thoughts
And hoping to live another day without
Thinking about my broken heart
My thoughts scream and shout
Inside of my head
And I'm walking around
With a broken heart.
I was shocked
Yes. Because it hit me
With Irony
So I laughed a little bit
And cried some

I always had my doubts
I was just too ****
Stupid not to put it all together
Soon enough.
I seen and heard things
That made me think
Negative.
I assumed he was seeing or doing something else
With another girl
My gut was right
Something I Ignored
And I went along with my life
I should have trusted my gut
It was right all that time

He showed me all the right signs
And I was blinded
Because I wanted to be wrong
October 9 of this year
I wrote my true feeling down
I wrote how I really felt
And I couldn't tell him about it
Because I told him I'll never bring it
Up ever again

So I kept my word.
It was bottled up inside of me
I couldn't tell anyone
I didn't want them to judge me
I didn't want to hear negative
Things towards my feelings
I thought no one would ever understand me
I felt alone
I would cry and carry on
And cry some more
Until I just
Read it in his presence
And afterwards I
Spilled out everything.
All the things I had bottled up inside
Of me.
I spoke my mind that day.
And I felt closure.
Then Again I don't
Think closure is the right word

I was hurt
And tears were rolling down
My face and my tears
Were blinding me
And I took a napkin
And wiped them away

He never knew how I truly felt
Most of the time
But my words that day
I spilled out everything
That I had in my mind
He felt the same as I did
And
When I would cry in secret sometimes
I didn't want anyone else
To know I'm crying
Because I had so much bottled up
My heart would cry with me
When I'm sad.
And all those times I felt sad
He finally felt what I've felt

I just want to scream.
Let it all out. . .
Out what, you'll ask
& I'll say
This pain I carry on me
This burden
This thing I feel that lives
Inside of me.
It’s attacking me from the inside
Wanting to get out
Wanting to be free into
The Atmosphere
Where it would be free
Nothing less and nothing more
Just free

I felt times where I wanted to be free
From this sadness
Called depression
That he brought upon me

And now

I close my eyes, thinking
To myself
This is real and I have to except it
But I don't want to
And this is when I want to scream
Because I don't want to except it

I just don't
It's just so hard for me
I never thought this would happen to me
My heartaches. . .

So. . . . .

Play me some songs of happiness
Because I want to be happy.

At some point the mind must release
And allow the pain to subside  
To make tomorrow settle for peace
With the salty waves in my mind

At some point the mind must let go
And forget about the weeks and days
Spent upon the oceans ebb and flow
Let go he rains the hearts fiery blaze

At some point the heart must warm up
And angered she burns quickly
Boiling the polluted puddles into sirup
Which leaks into the soul thickly

At some point part of the soul must die
Allowing the whole to be free
She will be vulnerable and cry
But at las  she can genuinely be

All I could ever become
Is perfectly contained
Between Every Day Hero
And someone who is at times
Afraid of darkness.
And light.

The first death that I can remember was when I was three years old. It was some great great aunt of mine who I did not know. All I remember was the hospital.

The next was a half uncle who I had just barely met. A long lost brother ripped from the world by lungs turned black.
I remember crying; I was seven.

When I was twelve my grandfather had a stroke and we went to the hospital eight hours away to say goodbye just in case.
There was no just in case about it.
Just a tired man in a hospital bed who's eyes I never saw open again.
I remember standing up front at the funeral so people could shake my hand and apologize for my loss.  
There was the faint taste of salt at the corner of my lip stretching up my face.

A friend of mine lost five kids from her school last year. I didn't know what to say to her.
Because how can you tell someone that life goes on when for some people it doesn't?
How do you console the living who are trying to console the dead?

I want to see my muscles and bones
I want to see the tissues that make up
this fractured body
I want to write my favorite
poems on the insides of my eyelids
so I see beauty when I blink
I want to unzip my skin and shake off the dust
gathered from years of being
unused and untouched
I want to inspect myself on the inside
to see my body work together when my brain sleeps
coauthoring my breath
instructing me to keep living.
I want to see the make up of me
and try to retrace my muscle memory into something new
string my tendons into bows
wrap my veins into vines around my mothers' garden
so she sees the tattered reasons why I can't help her bloom.
I want to see if there's more to me
or less of me
most importantly I want to see if you're still carved into my stomach
knots leaving scars.
I'm curious
if my insides are more beautiful than my outside

Some days will be bad.
You will want to rip apart your ligaments
You will want to rupture your lungs
You'll no longer want to hear the bird sing.
You'll douse yourself in gasoline and strike a match at arms length.
but as the clock wrings it's hands, the nights of lonliness will morph into comforting evenings by a fire
the ligaments you wanted to rip will grow stronger, the gasoline will become inflammable.
The wisps of horsetail clouds will spin across your horizon
and you will be okay.
The instances or decades of pain you feel
will fade into the wallpaper of the new ER you build yourself,
a sanctuary, a haven. All of it will dissolve, a pill in water, bursting and then dispersing, scattering to the edges of your memories.
It will get better.

You're nothing like
a good back massage
after a really long day.

You're more of a toe
that has been stubbed
off a coffee table
at 3 am;

You **** me off.