I keep this bottle of pills, filled up to the brim. And I leave them on my nightstand.
I keep the small container without stealing any
Even when my head is throbbing so hard, I can hear my pulse deep inside my ears.
But I keep them; so if I ever want to taste them all in one setting,
The option is there.
I don’t plan to take these pills. I just have them; just in case.
Because you can’t plan death, you can’t sit down one night and say, “I, want, to, die.”
It doesn’t work like that, depression isn’t that simple.
It’s not an impulsive act or feeling; it’s a build down.
And I say build down because it sure as hell doesn’t make you feel good about yourself.
It piles in your head, like ***** laundry that’s been there for days and sits around the floor,
Because you can’t get out of bed.
It adds up, like miles on that old car that seems to cost a fortune every week but you can’t afford a new one.
Because if you could, maybe you’d leave your pillow and see the world,
Travel. Away.
Like a cross country road trip, pushing pins into a board, marking all of the spots in the world you want to stop and see.
But if my arm were a highway, and these straight lines my tourist spots, my blade would be my car.
It’s not a Cadillac or an SUV. It’s been used,
Back when I actually gave a **** about what I looked like.
I don’t cut slashes in my wrist anymore
As if I was a four year old erasing the white ink from her canvas, coloring with a silver crayon.
And I may be lying when I say,
I don’t have a razor blade hidden within the drawer.
Because  I keep that thin, shiny piece of metal that pulls so easily against flesh,
Because,
Maybe someday I don’t want to relapse and start over.
I want to succeed.
But that isn’t something I can plan.

If you are an aging book tossed on an empty shelf
Left to dust,
I will be the librarian who remembers you.

Even in my graying days and wrinkles,
I will find you within the musty bindings
Upon the shelves.
I will pluck you off,
Bypassing all of the others
That try and grab me as I walk
The narrow aisles.
I will push them back into their place
For you are the only one I have eyes on.
I will find you and blow the dust
Off your shoulders.
I will run my fingers over you,
Feeling your cover, your back, your spine
Before opening you and sifting through your pages,
Reading your story and discovering your scars
Where the corners have been folded over.

But I will love you long before
I ever open your cover and begin to read.

I've recently been contacted about having my collection of poems published. since you all are such great fans and supporters, I invite you to go 'like' my Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/courtneyksnodgrass
you'll get additional sneak peeks like excerpts and quotes from the novel that I just finished writing as well!
it would really mean a lot if you guys could go like my page and then invite your friends too. (if you feel I deserve it)
all is appreciated, thank you so much.
~Courtney Snodgrass

Like in the dead of night when I put one leg out into the brisk air because combined with your body heat,
The blanket is just too warm.
I feel exposed but hidden all the same.
Or when I push one sleeve up my arm, but keep the other hidden beneath the cloth because the evidence would smack you too hard in the face.
I don’t want you to feel the pain that I’ve kept hidden.
I feel shielded, but barely; behind a veil that is trying to reveal the hurt I’m sheltering because you were just too naïve to believe I’d sank that low.
The ocean pulls the anchor from the ship and gravity helps.
I can’t see the bottom, but I know I’m close.

He was the kind of man who
Rarely said, “I love you” first.
Hearing him say those three
Magic little words before I did
Always caught me off guard,
Like a child digging in the
Cookie jar and getting caught
Red handed by his mother.
I smile like the child does
When he’s finally allowed
A cookie for dessert.
The love we shared
Was like a family
Before it had even began.
I am the child that grins
Every time I’m allowed a cookie
And he is the mother that
Always gives in to my cravings.

Three years have gone by.
A little over one thousand days
And it’s been thirty-six months.
I don’t know why I’m still counting
Each dawn that passes by.
I don't know why you haven’t called
To tell me that you miss me
And that you want me back.
But I do know that slowly the nights add up
And soon it will be forty-eight months
One thousand four hundred sixty days.
It’ll be four years
And I will still be wondering why
We haven’t spoken.

Your fingers sift through my hair
Like wind drifts through a meadow.
You speak like the sparrow calls in the distance
And your touch is soft as a butterfly wing.
You smell sweet like after the rain
But it is your breaths that take mine away.

The sky was overcast,
A gloomy sort of feel to the air,
A gray haze cast over the corn stalks.
The breeze was brisk,
And brought goose bumps to my skin.
I wrapped my arms tighter around myself,
Reminding me of how you used to hold me.
I took a deep breath and watched my exhale
Disappear into the wind, my imaginary
Cigarette smoke leaving my system.
Only about an arm’s length away,
I thought I saw something fall.
Looking up into the sky,
I saw nothing, but
When I put my hand out,
Palm up,
A small white flake landed on my mitten.
Autumn had passed, winter was here.

Hold** my fingers between your own while we walk easily
On the skywalk that overlooks the traffic lights and street signs and makes us feel like
We’re on top of the world. There is no other place that I’d rather be than
Going with you through a simple tunnel of glass, above the city, holding your hand and feeling like I’m
Home whenever I am simply in your presence.

I pondered everything
You did that I adored.
A smile played on my face
As I remembered
Your eyes,
Your smile,
Your cologne.
But mostly I remembered
The way I caught you watching me,
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
And the way you turned away,
A smile on your lips,
Blood in your cheeks.

Whenever I find
Myself thinking about you,
I get butterflies.

It is half past one in the morning and
The red digits from the alarm clock
Lecture me for thinking about you.

The pillow next to me
Harbors your absence,
And the loneliness holds me.

I glare at the numbers,
Fully aware that I will be exhausted come morning.
Then the time changes and it is one thirty-one.

Though you are small, and may seem like the smallest grain of sand on the beach,
There are many things to know before being washed into the ocean of life.
Listen to the shells, for they’ve been on the beach far longer than you have.
Make a wish at 11:11. (Don’t worry if you forget in the morning, it’ll come again that night.)
Cross your fingers for extra luck,
Accept a date to stargaze in the middle of an open field in the bed of a pick-up truck,
And while you’re gazing at the stars, don’t forget to make a wish on the one that’s shooting across the sky
And while you’re lost within that pair of blue eyes, get lost within a field of dandelions.
Pluck one that you can make a wish and blow into the wind.
And don’t worry if Prince Charming hasn’t swept you off your feet,
Create your own imaginary prince; he won’t break your heart,
And keep a couple imaginary friends along too; they won’t stab you in the back.
It’s okay to dance and sing in the car, you won’t ever see those people who’re next to you again,
(Unless the next light turns yellow, in which case, the gas pedal needs love and affection too.)
You’ll get nerves, but don’t ever bite your nails or crack your knuckles, back, neck, or anything.
Arthritis isn’t something that goes well with the wrinkles that’ll come too.
Grow wisdom, but don’t forget, you’ll always be a child at heart.
Make sure the length of the dress that you buy for the date would be approved by your grandmother.
Don’t forget to always add sprinkles with your ice cream while on that date,
And why should dessert be saved for last? Eat it first; otherwise you’ll be too full.
And as you’re driving home that night, don’t forget to turn your headlights on,
And remember to wear your seatbelt, no matter how short the distance.
Remember that it’s okay to break curfew every now and then; you may not ever get those moments back.
Keep in mind, if your date is on a Friday, don’t be out too late, or you’ll miss Saturday morning cartoons,
Which also means, don’t ever eat the marshmallows from Lucky Charms until the very end.
And say Prince Charming still hasn’t rode in on his white stallion,
The refrigerator is not who to call to cure your boredom (Unnecessary calories are not your friends.)
Instead, call your mother, because you’re never too old to cry to your mom.
When you see those storm clouds approaching, don’t hide inside,
Put on your rain boots and dance in the puddles.
Don’t be afraid of the waves that are washing up on the shore.

Following the long winding road with the
Dark clouds and lightning grabbing at our heels,
Gravel kicking up dust in the rearview,
We flew like sparrows in the spring wind.
Johnny Cash singing throughout the speakers;
Tunes of walking lines and rings of fire.
The clearing was just ahead, sandwiched in
Between tall evergreen trees with acorns
Where small sparrows wait for a worm dinner.

I remember spinning  in circles around the brown, hardwood floor,
My tiny hand grasping tight to mommy’s outstretched finger;
The sound of music from the live band was filling my ears,
While the laughter was spilling from my smiling mouth.
My dress was ballooning out like a doily,
While perfume and cologne were sneaking through my nose.
Mommy was twirling me all about,
Like a miniature Cinderella, glass slippers on my toes.

Enclose me within your arms,
Give me warmth,
Love me,
And please,
Do not stop.

I want to be the blanket
That wraps about you,
In the dead of night;
The sheet you clench.
I want to fill the spot
Beside where you lay your head,
And I want to be the face you see,
When you first wake
From the night’s rest.

All at once,
You ripped my heart out,
And threw it like a large stone
Skips across a lake,
Creating ripples in my calm waters.
I disappeared beneath the surface,
And you walked away from the shoreline,
And grabbed a different stone.

“Do you think there’s such thing as loving someone too much?” I asked him and searched his face for his reaction, which he didn’t show.

“What do you mean?” he questioned.

“I don’t know, do you think it’s possible to just want to love someone so much and save them, when maybe they’re already too broken to be fixed. I mean, maybe it would have been better—

“Don’t say that.” Michael interrupted, “Noah, don’t say that.”

“I don’t know, Michael. I mean, if she’s really that unhappy, was I in the wrong to send her to rehab? Was I wrong to want to save her and make her happy?”

“No, you’re not in the wrong.”

“I mean, if she really doesn’t want to live anymore, am I being selfish for wanting to keep her alive?”

Skip the coffee,
And breakfast in bed.
I’d rather you stay by my side,
And feed me with kisses instead.
Wrap me in your arms,
While under the sheet,
Smother me with love,
And I’ll be complete.

These nights are restless,
With you absent from my side.
A hole where my heart should be,
Is not easy to hide.
I stare at the ceiling,
Waiting for your return,
Knowing that you won’t come,
Leaving me with memories to burn.

Grab my fingers, and
Lace them in between the space
Between each of yours.

I want to find the
Darkest depths of your soul, and
Love without limit.

I want to punch you.
And push you away from me.
Please pull me closer.

You tilted my chin back,
Tucked a strand of hair behind my ear,
Kissed my lips,
And whispered,
“Love you more.”
And in that moment,
All of the anchors that’d been holding me down
Weren’t a match for the rushing waves,
The salty sea,
Or the deep ocean floor.

This blade I use
As my paint brush,
My arm as my canvas;
Pale and innocent,
Save for scars from another time.

They will be joined,
Together,
In yet another
Beautiful, red painting.

My wrist, the white horizon
In the background.

I live in a cloud filled world
Where only with you,
Do I catch a glimpse of the sun.

Package gift:
Flaws are guaranteed,
Should be loved and accepted.