Some nights
Its great to write
Long stories that are bright
Today is not
Tonight is filled
With thoughts that could ****
Hopefully it only lasts until
Tomorrow comes
With rays of sun
To dry up the mud

My throat's burning like I just took five shots but I've been sober
for weeks. The world around me is becoming fuzzy and my eye lids
are heavy on my face because I haven't
slept for days.
This isn't how it's supposed to be. The sky's
bright blue but it's raining and we're
just chasing

shadows, wondering aimlessly around, protecting ourselves
from the rain with broken black umbrellas and half smiles that mimic
the supposedly happy lives we tell everyone
we're living.
I don't recognize my surroundings.
I feel like a stranger

in my own bed
I'm homesick for a place that doesn't even exist. The burning in my throat
has developed into a throbbing
as if the thunder from the rain storm
was only inside my chest.
There's no sign of a cease

fire. No one should control every thought that runs through your mind taking over every empty space
that used to be filled with images of what used to be. The throbbing sinks lower to my stomach

that used to be filled with butterflies but now just twists into knots that I feel like will never get to replicate
the pretzel we would share at that carnival across town. We live with

the scars we chose and I'm choosing you. Not to be a permanent mark on my body but to help me forget
all the ones I already have, whether they're stupid decisions like taking too many shots I can't feel the burn anymore,
walking around dripping wet from puddle jumping in a thunderstorm not worried about being shaken
by the thunder, or eating so much
I throw up. It might still
be raining, but I'm still choosing you.

You took my hand and asked me to dance,
But I was far too tired to do so,
The simple act of walking being far beyond
My limited capabilities at that point.
I had been reduced to hugs and kisses,
And tales of how glorious my past lives had been,
And holding hands.

I wondered if I should let go- it seemed so different,
From any I'd ever held before, that hand.
For years I'd held others with the sole
Intention of drawing pain away-
I am not capable of creating happiness,
And I've never claimed otherwise.

Your hand had no pain to draw away though,
Or at least none that I could find,
Which startled me (All the others held so much!)
I had thought I knew all there was to know about hands-
Their needs, and all the varieties they come in.
How they all needed comforting in different ways
For similar ailments- grief, loneliness,
Heartbreak, being among the most common.
I'd even learnt to hold phantoms limbs for a few.
I'd move the pain aside, lessen it, or sometimes
Even take it as my own, releasing it when no-one else was looking,
Into a stone, or an abandoned old house.

But your hand simply said "I am here to be held."
It shocked me so much I didn't realise I was
Walking again. You glided gracefully ahead
As I clunked behind, unsure of myself,
Holding on to you, trying to figure you out
In the short window of opportunity I had left.

I saw it as our interlocked fingers departed.
Somewhere in the webbing between your ring
And index fingers on your left hand
Was what I had been searching for all along.
I won't go into detail about what I saw
(Our pain is no-one's business but our own),
But I saw it though, far more beautifully arranged
Than I thought was ever possible,
Noticing you had stolen some of mine
When I wasn't looking, and wondering
How much damage I had done.

I don't know whether I danced with you or not,
The release answered so much while
Explaining not quite enough.
I watched you, enraptured by the way
The pain never once showed
Through those beautiful, happy eyes,
Which never seemed to break.

Now I wonder if I had held your palm
Not too little, but far too much.
The pain I saw was labelled thus-
"Life experiences- Please don't touch
All is well. Please remain calm."

You like yellow but
I am violet.
The real question is,
why would a girl
that loves yellow to the
core of her heart,
would even bother to
pick a violet in a field of sunflowers.