i'm swingin in slowly,
entirely and wholey
like my mother used to tell me
i'm just trying to figure out where i belong

i'm homesick for a home
i've never known
and a home is not a home
when you're on your own

i'm crawling in quietly,
softly and slightly
like my mother used to tell me
"you won't get far by just stringing yourself along"

if you could feel
the way I feel
you probably
wouldn't be here
right now

i wish we were
walking in the rain
on the beach in
october
i wish
we were talking
in the rain
on the beach in
october

i wouldn't care about
my hair
in the rain on the beach
in october
in the rain
on the beach in
october

i wish we were
walking together
in this rainy weather
in october
on the beach in october
in the rain

your eyes are melting
like the polar ice caps
and I am swimming in your sea
there is nowhere I'd rather be
than watching television
while you sleep

I'm tracing the lines
of your smile
I'm watching your
chest fall and rise
for a little while

but I'm hardly
holding a grudge
and I'm not trying to be
something that you'll
just get tired of

it's just that
I love you so much
and sometimes
I don't think that it's
enough

i've been finding myself
burried inbetween
more and more
moments of unspoken anger

i've been learning how to
swallow that **** daily,
just like my *******
birth control

i'll probably end up  between
somewhere and nowhere
between the middle and the end
i'll probably just float away
and you'll all think I'm dead

mortality -
it's what means we are all
alive
mortality -
it's what means that we will all
die

i'll probably end up between
here and there
between the bottom and the top
i'll probably just fade away
and I just can't wait til it stops

birds are chirping. this is familiar. you can do familiar. "it's a mess" I say. quickly you reply "it's not a mess, it's pieces of your life." my life's pieces; not mine. It's taken shape as hundreds of tiny copies from the same **** story. you're fragile. you're the yellow copy of a receipt. stupid little paper girl.

this is going to be terrible and that's going to have to be okay because death is open to interpretation now.

there is something to be said about lying under every window sill in the house just to follow the sunlight and pretend it hasn't been dark since you left.

you look back in five years and realize that "you" in every poem has become yourself. everybody grew up and moved out of the sadness except for you.

dress up as yourself when you loved someone and stare in the mirror until it cracks. you never thought you'd be leaving the lights on waiting for yourself to come home. you'll never understand and that's the whole point.

always leaving never really arriving. you can stay only long enough for them to know who you are. nothing can remain the same because that's not real, is it? they say nothing lasts forever. let's be nothing. stop existing. we'll be timeless.