Getting over you isn't a quick hail storm.

It's not a piece of ice falling rapidly.

An immediate deflation of emotion as though an ice cube pelting upon hot cement.

Melting as soon as the ground and frozen water meet.

Getting over you is a cool precipitation of slowly falling snow.

A glistening piece of artwork landing upon the endless white.

A cold, menacing blanket of hatred and sting.

Anytime revisited, a frostbite against the skin.

Come spring, you reopen the door and the white has disappeared.

Instead, hues of pink and blue dot the land.

The white, no longer missed.

You were my other half to my beating soul.

Getting over you will never happen.

However, my strength has grown thanks to you. I will never forget you. I will never forget the endless cold that stung my eyes. On this day, I say thank you. Thank you for being worthy of the winter and not being just a passing hailstorm. Thank you for teaching me that flowers within me are beauty even though their thorns may bite. Thank you for making me getting over you.

lights of red line the bristled green
air of cookies and "joy"
yet something isnt right

you arent here anymore
to laugh
to sit in your chair at christmas dinner

Upon the first step, my rain soaked loafers dirtied the pristine carpet of the cafe. The fresh aroma of bread coming out the oven filled my nostrils. A blanket of warmt engulfed me. I slowly peeled my jacket off my shoulders as the heat crawled under and began drying my back. The tears I once cried no longer stained my now smiling face. I stepped to the side as a man balancing a tray on his left hand swayed by me in unison with the blues playing softly on the radio. I noticed the elastic hum of the people around me. Pulling to eternity of a line with no interruption. Clearing my throat, I stepped forward and joined the peaceful buzz. Humming softly to the childhood favorite of mine. I took a window seat and watched the pitter patter of slow drops upon the pavement. With my coffee in front of me, I no longer felt the pin ****** of water. A child sat soaked outside eying the cookies sat on the plate beside my cup of brown. I smiled and waved the child in. I knew that, shortly I’d be sharing my heaven with a friend that was too young to enter through these doors

You've handed me a loaded gun
You told me to run

You told me to never speak
Of the monster freaks

You told me everything was going to be all right
That you were going to hold on to me so tight

But listen here
The monsters you fear

Aren't so far away
In fact I say

Let me show you
Who they're really attached to

Inside of me
They are begging to let them free

And so you scream
And I end this frightening dream

One shot
Two shot
Three
Let me show you what they've done to me

Demons do not die
So I sit here trying not to cry

You've handed me a loaded gun
And now it's your turn to run

One shot
Two shot
Three
Let me show you what you've done to me

Instead of hurting you
I pull the trigger
One shot
two
The demons bled
Now I am finally dead