When it comes
to loving you,
my heart wades,
and fills,
like the phases of the moon.

you were a constellation
a beautiful complexity
a pattern only I could see
but then it changed
the arrangement became an endless kaleidoscope
you were a mash of stars I could not make sense of
you entangled me in your lines until I could not see the way out
now all you are is the yellow city lights
forever blinding my view of the beauty beyond

She's beautiful weather
on my vacation weekend.
She's the cloudless skies
when I go stargazing at night.
She's one last cigarette
in my pack first thing in the morning.
She's the twenty dollar bill
I found in my old jeans today.
She's the free coffee
when I dont have cash on me.
She's an ocean in the sun
when I'm hot and sore.

She's everything fortunate
that's ever happened to me.

Here she lies, they'll say,
They'll say at my funeral,
Here at the corner of happy and hopeful
Here at the street between bitter and sweet

The sun will be harsh
And the rain will be soft,
And the winds will scream
Their blustering, bugling calls

Birds won't stop to say their goodbyes;
They have other places to be
And other winters to outrun
And they know they must move on.

And that day another hundred thousand
Will sigh and breathe their last breath,
Breathe their last breath and join me,
And together we'll watch the birds fly away.

'Do you feel it, too?' I enquire.
'No, I don't. I'm sorry.'
'That's alright', I reply. 'I can just feel it for the both of us.'

I don't want to write rhymes,
I want to tear my pain apart
into perfect, delicate
rectangular pieces
and feed it to my friends,

Then I want to rip their flesh apart
and feed it to my pain,
I want to give them rain,
let their prayers for sunshine
be in vain,

I don't want to destroy a wall,
I want to burn all the cages inside me,
I don't want a key,
I want to knock a door down,
and I don't want to bandage you,
I want to cure me.

Either I can swim or
I'd rather sink,
Either a storm or
not even a drizzle;
teach me balance, please.

The moment I think back on
the most
isn't when
                   we learned to samba
                we saw each other naked
              our lips met for the first time
or even when we said I love you.
Its our last night together,
the night we
            played cards with your family
       slept in your twin bed
    couldn't work the DVD player
and took our first bedroom picture.
It was the night when
    I woke up and cried quietly
until you felt my tears on your skin
    You wrapped me up and rocked me back to sleep
    You whispered I'm here over and over again.
Don't you remember, love?
*It was the night before you left (me).

I want to let my tears
wash me clean or
soak me until my clothes
show the ***** truth;
the insides of a vessel
affected by depression are
not always so pristine.

Do not judge this;
you do not know what it is
to haunt your own body,
to have your mind
wage war on you,
you do not know the sound
of your mind pulling 1000 triggers,
the sound of gunshots ricocheting
in your lungs;
you only know that my
breathing is shallow.

Do not call me weak just because
"I cannot stomach
the same meal twice"
when I have swallowed
the same poison
up until this moment in life
where I am learning to spit it out;
I love you, I love you, I love you
Separation, separation,  separation,
suicidal contemplation...

But of course,
tomorrow I'll be here again,
so there's nothing to worry about,
right?


- Crimsyy♡

I wish I had never met you.

You are Apollo, Zeus, and Hercules. You are midnight lullabies. You are drunken fists turned to open hands. You are the one constant presence in hotel rooms in Barcelona, Ibiza, Budapest, New York, everywhere. You are bloodied lips. You are gentle kisses. You are post-nightmare reassurance. You are a bullet to the head. You are toppled sandcastles on Massachusetts shores. You are white walls. You are the brightness of a phone screen in a dark room. You are a bruise that doesn’t go away. You are cold, rosy cheeks. You are morning coffee. You are yellowed pages of forgotten books. You are razor-burned jawlines. You are the crack of billiard *****. You are the hand on my knee beneath the table. You are the moon flooding through thin curtains. You are phantom limbs. You are a foreign name on a foreign tongue. You are the sunrise. You are a memory that doesn’t fade. You are every ******* poem I write.

I wish I had never met you.