i will always associate back flips
with my first "boyfriend" in the third
grade who has probably now grown
up to be the type of guy who takes
pictures of himself shirtless in the bathroom
mirror and tells his girlfriend that she's pretty
but not quite as pretty as he is.

i will always associate playgrounds
with my elementary school sweetheart
and hearing my favorite love song and
him walking five steps behind and defending
me when he thought i needed it.

i will always associate the rain
with wet tables and standing up
and laughing with friends and talking
and being wrapped in someone's arms
for the very first time and hearing "i missed you."

i will always associate "almosts" with the guy
i never really realized i wanted until it was too late
and seeing him walk around holding the hand of the
girl who wanted him when i didn't and seeing him kiss
her the way he wanted to kiss me once upon a time
and with ******* up really really irreparably bad this time.

i will always associate short time periods with the two weeks
when i belonged to someone I never expected to want,
when he kissed me like i mattered,
when he held me as though he would never let go
and then told me we should "take a break" and
come back to us when the "time was right."

and i will always associate happiness with these times
when i was loved and wanted and needed for just a little while
and believing for just a moment that i was special.

and you know what else?

i will always associate failure with the entrance of something better
i will associate failure with a narrow escape because if it were meant
for me to have then i would have had it but it's not so i don't.

i will always associate life with beautiful complications.

I am now fifteen
and I am now afraid
that one day I'll look up
and all of this will fade away.

I am now fifteen
and I am insecure
because everyone around me
expects me to be sure.

I am now fifteen
and nothing here makes since
except his arms around me
and except for his sweet kiss.

I am now fifteen
and to be as honest as I can be
something tells me one day I might
be wishing again for fifteen.

The world is full of
wanna-bes and
used-to-bes and
almost-wases.

And the world is crawling with
naysayers and
false speakers and
people who never speak at all.

The world will never run out of
cookie cutters and
fakes and
exact replicas.

But every once in a while,
if you're lucky, really truly lucky
you meet a dream catcher or
a dream weaver or
a dream creator.

And every once in a blue moon,
should all the conditions be right,
you meet someone who is not afraid.

Someone who will hang their feet
over the very edge of this dismal world
look down into the dark expanse
take your hand
close their eyes

and jump.

And that person, my dear,
is you.

I don't know how to write
of someone who has given
me so much when I have given
so little in return so I will say only

I hope you are happy, today and always
and I hope you can forgive my
every little *****-up: now and in the future.

I love you more than I have ever shown
and more than I have ever felt
and more than you have ever known.

All the lonely people* wander in the night,
clothed in all their misery and hiding from their pain.

All the lonely people hunt for what is right,
devil in their hearts as they sleep out in the rain.

All the lonely people beg, "Stay and love me do."
Lonely people are everywhere, and Eleanor Rigby never knew.

I've been smiling a lot lately,
laughing more than ever
taking in all my surroundings.

For the first time in a long time
I am confident in myself again
and I am surrounded once again
by beautiful people who actually care
about my happiness and my well-being.

For the first time in a long time
I do not fear sharing my secrets because
I know that I can trust these people with
the world itself if it were entrusted to me
or if it were mine to give away.

For the first time in a long time I
am truly, completely and wonderfully happy.
And it's been a long time since
I've gotten what I wanted
but for the first time in a long time
I'm getting what I need and that's even better.

And as I sit here in the dark,
I unwrap another piece of chocolate
and I think to myself with a smile:

I don't deserve all this happiness,
but I will gladly accept it anyway.

This round goes to you because
even though it's been so long
the thought of marrying you
is not at all unattractive.

We sit in a comfortable silence.
He is preoccupied with something
in his hands and I sit watching him
and smiling. He looks up at me.

What is it? he asks.
You're just so goofy. I answer.
I do not tell him how amusing and childlike
his laughter is or how adorable his simpleness is to me.

Yeah, that's just me, he answers back.

Another comfortable silence.
He looks at me with a smile in his eyes.
What are you thinking of? he asks.

Why didn't we work?
What did I do wrong?
Would we have lasted?

Did you mean all the things you said
once upon a time or was I just a moment
of weakness and blind want for you?

Want me.
Miss me.
Hug me.
Hold me.
Need me.

Love me.

I've missed this comfortable silence,
these meaningful yet insignificant conversations,
your presence and your essence and your everything.

I don't know what I want anymore
but I know it's not you.
It's just something about you that I can't
seem to let go of easily.

I miss you. Please stay.

But reality steps in
and I am back again.

He looks at me with a smile in his eyes.
What are you thinking of? he asks.

Nothing, I'm just so tired, I answer.

He begins to sing and his voice is heaven.
I'm so tired, I haven't slept a wink.
I'm so tired, my mind is on the blink.
I wonder should I get up and fix myself a drink.

I consider singing along, but I just want to listen and smile.
You know that one, right? I nod and he grins.

Another comfortable silence.
I begin to realize that the next time we meet
he will probably have forgotten all about this conversation
and he may not speak to me at all.

So I sit there and decide to make the moment last,
lingering in my laughter and reveling in the moment.

Yet another comfortable silence.
What am I thinking of?
*He doesn't need to know.

He's interested in dreams,
the ones where everything is
so vivid and easily explained.

I'm obsessed with dream catchers
because they're beautiful and have
some sort of meaning whether or not
you believe in "evil spirits" or "nightmares"
or "heartbreak" or "reality."
You know, made up things like that.

He writes them down in a little book
and they have funny names and interesting
plot lines and there are some of them I am not
allowed to read and I don't know if that's because
he's hiding them from me or if they are just too personal.

I really should not be wondering if I was ever
in one of his more recent lucid dreams,
if he'd kissed my lips behind his eyes,
if he'd held me tight while he consulted with the Sandman,
if I was his when all the lights were out.

I really should not be wondering if I was ever
in one of his favorite lucid dreams.
*But it would be nice to know.

Today you came back.
Just like old times,
you said with a smile.

Seeing you across the table
the way you used to be,
I was forced to remember
that at that table, you and I
used to share glances and hugs
and smiles and stolen moments.

I was forced to remember the way
it rained on that very first day back at the
start of January and we were forced
to stand because the tables were all wet.

I was forced to remember how you'd
held me in your arms and wouldn't let go
and I was forced to remember how I really
didn't want you to at all.

I was forced to remember how we were
everybody's ever after, everybody's meant to be
and nobody's disappointment except our own.

And then I was forced to acknowledge the words
that have been hanging on the tip of my tongue.
All this time I've thought of saying them, but then you
would know the truth and I couldn't let that happen.

All this time I've wanted to say,
I miss him being here, with us
laughing and joking, sharing his smile
and his music and his dreams.
I miss him being here, making things
interesting, amusing us all and me
especially.

And I contemplated telling someone
but I feared you would find out.

I'm glad you came back for today.
I hope you don't leave again too soon.
And for making me admit this,
I guess this round goes to you.



You know you guys love me,
you said smiling.
Sometimes, I said sarcastically.
Sometimes, you repeated with a smile.

I grow tired and place my head
down in his lap, looking up at him.
I worry how he will receive this action
but there is nothing to worry about because
he smiles at me as if this were our normal routine.

And to my surprise, he leans down over me
and he kisses my forehead sweetly,
just the way he used to when he was almost mine.
And even more surprising, he leans down again
and kisses my forehead again
and then again
and then once more.

All around there are murmurs of confusion
as no one has seen us this way in a while
but we pay them no mind because we
are stuck in this moment in time.

--
He grows tired and places his head
down upon my lap, looking up at me.
He does not worry how I will receive this action
because everything is too perfect for words right now
and this used to be our normal routine.

And not much to his surprise, I run my fingers
through his hair, tracing over paths I memorized
so very, very long ago.

And I feel myself compelled to lean down and
kiss his lips, but I don't because something is
different, strange, wrong about this situation.

I cannot decide what it is and I do not care
because I have him here and everything is beautiful.

And just before I lean down to press my lips to his,
He is gone and I?
I have opened my eyes.

And I think to myself with a smile,
*what a wonderful dream.

Did you think you could
escape me that easily?

You have given me a way
to easily control you,
to make your heart beat faster,
to make you melt at my side.

All I need do is run my fingers
through your hair and you are
mine for just another moment.

Not that I want you, but it's
nice to know I could have
you again, if only for a moment,
if I really
wanted to.

I.
My best friend just texted asking
if Anne Frank was a real person or
just a character in a story.

I cannot help but laugh because
I know she is smarter than I am
and it's quite laughable that she would
ask such a question as if it were nothing.

Maybe she's having a blonde moment,
although her hair hasn't been blonde since
it started growing back a few years ago.

Chemo's a *****, yet all she does is smile.

II.
The boy who was almost mine looks at me
with kind eyes and a sweet smile and we laugh
like there was never any kind of awkward situation
between the two of us months ago.

He's probably got her on his mind and I've got
myself on mine for the first time in a while and everything
seems beautiful the way it used to be before it all.

And he covers my eyes with his hands and we laugh
and I am much too happy to miss the way things used to be
because I am much too content with how things are.

Moving on's a *****, and yet all we do is smile.

III.
The boy who wanted so badly to be mine walks
down the hallway holding hands with someone else
and they laugh and talk and smile, so happy to be together.

And I am happy for him, because I have no time or energy
to be jealous of something that was never mine to begin with.

He does not speak to me
and I do not care because I realize
that everything is beautiful today
and so am I, for once.

Because life's only a ***** if you are.

I cannot deny that
every time your arms
wrap around my body,
I am reminded of everything
that I dreamed we were.

And then I begin to think
about how my dreams probably
ruined it all, how God probably heard
me having conversations with myself about
you and thought, well, look at her trying to
plan her own life! who does she think she is?
let's change things up a little, shall we?

And then He took you away from me
as quickly as you'd come.

I can't blame Him, though,
or you either, for that matter.
I just would have bored you or
broken your heart or
showed you who I really am and
disillusioned you.

And I'm pretty sure He has someone
better in mind for the both of us, anyway.
Someone I can look at and say, she's just
right for him. I'm so happy for him.
And someone you can look at and say,
if you break her heart, I'll break your neck
because she's my friend despite our history and
I care for her, genuinely and with all my heart.

And none of these thoughts are really
worth thinking and none of these words
were really worth writing.

Except, I guess to say, that I wish you
would wrap your arms around me the way
you used to more often so that just for a second
I can feel like someone really needs me.

Admit it, darling:
not too long ago, I had
you weak at the knees.
I had you falling for my every move
I had you dreaming of my smile.

Admit it, darling:
do you sometimes think of me,
even when you're thinking of her
and how she doesn't want you
like I did so long ago? do you?

Admit it, darling:
you used to want me
as much as I wanted you.

Go ahead, admit it, because
only you and I will know.

I promise not to tell anyone
how I'm playing your game just
as well
as you are.

From this day forward, I promise that I
will wake up every morning and say to myself
these simple but important things:

a.
Today will be fragile
and the worst thing that could happen
is that it all comes crashing down.

But if it does, you'll have all these
little cracked pieces to kick around and
that's always fun and you know you're so
easily amused, aren't you?

Today will be very, very fragile
and by opening your eyes right now,
you're adding one more crack to the ones
that already exist, but guess what?

The worst thing that could happen is that
it all comes crashing down at your feet.

b.
There are people who need you.
Beautiful, wonderful people who should
be able to stand on their own, but they can't
because they're just as afraid as you are.

They've got dreams and fears just like you
(and they probably don't realize this, but
the same way they're leaning on you,
you're leaning on them and if either of you
lets go, you're both gonna fall and then where
will you be? I'll tell you: you'll be twice as broken
and three times as hurt as you were before.)

There are people who need you, I'll say,
beautiful, wonderful people,
the same ones who keep you sane and
should be able to support themselves but
they can't because unfortunately they're just as afraid as you are.

And it's your job to make them unafraid because no one
deserves the pain that you are in, not even you, no matter how
much you think that there's a reason for all that you feel.

c.
Good morning, beautiful.

Today you are a butterfly who cannot see
how beautiful her wings really are and
today you are a soldier fighting everything that
could possibly stand in your way and
today you will not frown or cry or feel like
everything is wrong because nothing really is.

Today you are more beautiful than you've ever thought
(although not quite as beautiful as you could be) and
more loved than you've ever really been
(although not as loved as you will be in the future) and
more intelligent than you've ever dreamed
(although not as intelligent as you used to be)
and all of that's okay, because all that matters is right now.

And today you may meet someone who will change your life
or today you may find someone who wants to hold your hand
or today you may make someone's day or save a life and you never know.

Good morning, beautiful, I'll say,
Go out there and make something
extraordinary
happen.

And oh, how happy I am for him!
I hope she gives him everything
he wasn't going to get from me.

And I hope that now I have
finally learned my lesson.

I'll tell you what it is as soon
as I figure it out.
I'm sure there's a lesson in all
of this somewhere.

In this life, we are all placed
into a category from birth:
Alphas or Epsilons, firsts and lasts.

And the Alphas go on to live beautiful lives
with wonderful significant others and
successful children and
fulfilled dreams and
intelligent thoughts and
perfect luck.

And the Epsilons go on to live sub par lives
with average significant others and
delinquent children and
nonexistent dreams and
subservient thoughts and
no knowledge or experience of luck.

But Epsilons are so endearingly stupid
that you cannot help but feel sorry for them
and so we pretend to love them, we tell them
that they are special, that they are beautiful.

But there is nothing more dangerous than allowing
an Epsilon to have a sense of self-worth, of self-respect
because once they believe that they are more than the picture
you have painted of them, they will refuse you and your
inadequate "love".

Everyone falls for the Alphas, darling.
It's the natural order of things

And we, the Epsilons, we go on living
our insignificant,
sub par,
hopeless
little Epsilon lives.

I always said I never understood
human nature and why we are
as we are and as we will be
and as we always have been.

I always said I was never like the rest
I knew I wasn't perfect but I was not
quite as
selfish or as
stupid or as
indecisive or as
foolish.

But now I see how I wanted you
when you were no longer mine to have
and I missed you when you were gone
and I let go of you when you were holding on to me
and I want you more than ever now that
you no longer want me at all.

and only now do I realize,
much to my dismay
that I
am
human nature.

Darling, I've learned it all too well
because I've been in your place
so many times before:
you cannot give your help
to someone who does not want it.

You can only hope that they will
let you share in their joy if it all works out
or cry on your shoulder if it does not.

*he'll come to you when he needs you.

What silly friends I have,
so busy and active,
always losing their virginity,
getting into fights,
having miscarriages,
running away from home.

So far away they are and they
come to me to confess but I
am no priest. I am not even Catholic!

And yet, with no routineness,
no certainty,
no schedule,
they come back to me to confess
everything they feel they have done wrong.

And all I can do is try not to be parent-like
in my advice and responses because I fear
nothing more than turning them away.

No, I'm not disappointed, just promise me
you'll be careful, okay?

And all I can hope is that they are careful
because I will do nothing but worry about
every little thing they do and it will stay on
my heart and I will remember that no one
knows but
me and
them and
Him.

Dear god, it must **** to be a priest.

Tonight, he'll write poetry
she loves me not,
she loves me not,
she never did,
she never will

and tomorrow he may mention
those poems but he will not share
them with me because it is not
my place to fix his newly broken heart.

I.
quietly, quietly
don't wake her up
she's sleeping and
she is too beautiful for words

but oh, she must leave in the morning
slowly, slowly, I must make this last
how beautiful
how sad
how precious

louder, louder
to show her you care
now quietly
she is still sleeping
and she is still much
much too beautiful for words

goodbye, beautiful lover
sleep well in nights to come

II.
oh, she returns!
how overjoyed I am!
but still I play slowly,
to make these moments last

oh, but she kisses me
and her lips are heavenly
oh, how beautiful she is
quickly, quickly
with feeling and fervor

louder and louder
let her hear!

stay forever, lover
please stay

III.
nothing is forever
and neither is this
broken, unconventional
romance that we carry on

goodbye is what is best, lover
I will let you go but I will
long for your touch once you are gone

goodbye forever, lover
let your days be many
and as beautiful as you are

but would you stay just the night?

quietly, quietly
don't wake her up
she's sleeping and
she is too beautiful for words

but oh, she must leave in the morning
slowly, slowly, I must make this last
how beautiful
how sad
how precious


*It must have been a beautiful night
with a beautiful girl
and some beautiful dreams.

How I would love to be part of his fantasy.

I've been noticing little things lately
like the way certain words feel weird
coming off the tongue (copy. makes
the original sound cheap and ***** because
you're making a duplicate, a clone. copy.)

or all the stuff stuck underneath my fingernails
(I don't know where it all comes from, but isn't
it strange to think that it's probably all just skin
and other abandoned parts of me that have found
their way to a safe haven beneath my nails?)

or the way my best friend looks at me like I walk
on water and perform miracles and save lives
(when really it's the other way around because
she's had it hard in life and all she ever does is make
things better for other people, especially for me.)

and there's something weird about all these things
that I've been noticing, because they are so small
and insignificant, but I cannot help but find them
to be
strangely
poetic.

how clever you are, darling.
if you pretend to have forgotten
that you ever told a lie then
I must pretend to never
have heard them in the first place

you catch more flies with honey
than with vinegar.*

yes, but you also catch flies with
Venus fly traps
and swatters
and spiders.

sometimes it pays to be nasty,
don't you think?

when wearing headphones,
the world is yours to rearrange.
everyone and everything moves
to the beat of your music.

they are a music video you create.
I watch and rewrite everyone's story.

the song that plays is sad, so the girl
across the street is not laughing because
she is happy, but laughing bitterly at her own
petty and ridiculous sadness.

the driving beat behind the next song makes the
man driving down the road seem to be doing so
with the most purpose I have ever seen, as if he has
somewhere he really, really needs to be.

maybe he has flowers for the woman he loves
or needs to apologize for something he did wrong.
either way, the music says he needs to be there
quick fast in a hurry, and so off he goes.

and me?
I am not so small,
not so insignificant,
not so afraid.

I am in charge.

what a wonderful feeling it is
to be --
just for a fleeting and wonderful second --
queen of the
world.

Almost everything I hate about myself
I see in you and so you take the silent
blame for all my shortcomings when in reality
I must choose not to be this person.

And so I have, but I still hope you know
that I smile to think that you are the woman
who gave birth to me because I fear that no one
else could handle me.

P.S. you're forty-five, not dead,
get out there, find a man, start living again
because I fear more than anything that my life
as well as that of my sister has forever
halted
yours.

I wish I could be as
transparent as you are
it would be as simple as saying

I've changed my mind
kiss me

or maybe

yes, I really do like you

or even

you say you're missing a girlfriend?
no, you're not. I'm right here.

but I prefer honesty to transparency
so I'll just hug you each time we meet
and smile as you wrap your arms around me

and hope you haven't found someone new
and pray that it's you each time my phone vibrates
and consider texting you first, but i won't
because I don't do that and I'd only be bothering you

and because I value honesty
I'll be honest with myself:
I've ******* up again
and you don't want me anymore

it's just as well
I would have messed up
sooner or later
anyway.

I am home today
Free to wrap myself
In music and poetry and daydreams

But instead I am avoiding schoolwork
And fighting off a runny nose
And hoping against hope
That someone will notice that I'm gone.

contenment, n.
driving down the road,
staring out the window,
listening to music you're ashamed to love

making promises to yourself
that you have no intentions
of fulfilling because it's all just as well,
varying your breathing in order to remind yourself
that you are indeed alive,
smiling at the fact that you are alive and seemingly well

missing the way things used to be
but being okay with the way things are,
speaking the names of the beautiful people in your life
and hoping they know how
beautiful they truly are.

Not to be confused with happiness.

I look this word up next.

happiness, n.
the sun peeking through the clouds,
holding hands and being kissed on the forehead,
dreams that make you wake up with a smile as big as Texas,
inside jokes,
shared looks,
best friends,
secret dreams,
favorite songs

fulfilling one of those promises
you made to yourself finally
and the results aren't quite
what you expected but good enough

fleeting,
never to be trusted,
never to be believed,
possibly nonexistent.

Never to be confused with joy.

One last word.

joy, n.
driving down the road,
watching raindrops race down the window,
stopping to play as it falls,
listening to music that makes you melt,
music you resolve to share with everyone you meet

never making promises to yourself
but learning that whatever will be, will be
(que sera sera, hakuna matata, shut the hell up and let God -- or whatever else you believe in-- work)
taking deep breaths and knowing that you are lucky to be alive,
that you were meant to be alive

knowing that things have never been better than they are
in that moment and may never be
and thus, savoring every laugh every smile every second,
calling the names of the beautiful people in your life
and reminding them that they
are beautiful wonderful loved
and that they always always have you

perfect,
long lasting,
trustworthy,
best friends forever,
shared dreams,
loud laughs,
summer nights,
quiet moments of solitude

incomparable to anything else
and therefore impossible to confuse

I put the dictionary down
and realize that I have no
definite idea of where I am.

This could possibly be the
most amusing or the most
frightening thought
I've had in a while.

Tonight I will close my eyes
and remember that there are people
more beautiful than I,
more purposeful than I have ever been,
more wonderful than I could dream.

And tonight I will close my eyes
with a prayer falling from my lips
because they are also
more broken than I,
more afraid than I have ever been,
more lost than I could dream.

Why is it that all the best
suffer all the worst?

So much
for
fairness.

They say you don't always
get what you want but that
you always get what you need.

Let's hope that's true.
Meanwhile I'll just have
to convince myself of this:

I don't need you
I don't need you
*I never needed you

I'm probably too late now.
He's probably given up, thinking
I'm too difficult or inexperienced
or he probably thinks I'm not interested.

When he hugs me, it probably means
nothing more than the hugs he gives
every single other person in his life now.

Maybe I should just give up, too,
because at least I know that this works.

I'm unusually talented when it comes
to being
alone.

You never lied.
I was always yours
Just as you said.

But I think I told a fib
Maybe two
Because I fear now
That you never belonged to me.

He wakes in the night,
Screaming and thrashing
Fighting invisible monsters
That intrude the air.

And then, of a sudden,
Moved by a terror unknown
He begins to cry, shrill and broken.

For lost time and
Innocence and
For sleep, he cries.

He closes his eyes once again
And rests his head, only to reawaken
And fight the monsters that have returned.

Sadly this cannot be remedied.
He will live his entire life afraid
And it hurts me to see him so.

Tick.
Keep time.
Tick.
No change.

Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.

Slowly this sound will
Drive me insane I know
But for now, I will keep time.
And nothing here will change.

Nothing.
Except for me.

Tick.
Tick.
Tick.

I have secrets that I’ve never told hidden in my words.
They are broken and fractured, but they have been kept.
None of them belong to me, for I do not keep my secrets.
They belong to the universe, to the world, to the ones I love.

And if you would like to know, I could share them with you.
All I ask is that you take the time to make me feel alive.

With all its harmonies
And dissonance it plays on,
Never ceasing, never yielding.

One can close his eyes against it
And feel its force, strong and uncompromised.
The sound swells and builds and grows,
Moving mountains, bringing cities to their knees.
It is a scream, echoed in the voices of the people.

With all its harmonies
And dissonance it plays on,
Never ceasing, never yielding.

And then, this incomparable force gives way
To the most frightening sound of all:
Silence.

It all fades away
And all that’s left

Is silence.

There's no use searching your own mind, dear.
You'll be disappointed at what you might find.
All your insecurities and bad memories are there.
You'll revisit all that you tried to leave behind.

And I know that you think that you're terribly mad
But I'll tell you that there is something I find:
All the best people are terribly, horribly mad.
The most haunted have the most beautiful minds.

All she loved, she loved alone
With broken words upon her tongue.
Her hands beat firm against the walls,
Feeling insignificant but standing tall.

And all she loved, she loved in vain,
Dreaming of sunshine in the midst of rain,
Broken by his desertion, changed by his return
Paper and promises were both meant to burn.

Well, all she loved, she loved for him,
Picture of instability, gone on a whim.
Fires have started for less than this,
Mourning she cries for each sinful bliss.

Oh, all she loved, she never did,
Regretting the moment goodbye was bid.
Broken hearts are for the vulnerable and weak,
Tears for the childish, pessimism for the bleak.

All she’d loved, she’d loved alone,
Left so far away from home.
Don’t show weakness, always be strong.
It’s hard to love when you love alone.

*All I’ve loved I’ve loved alone.

Upon the taking of my last breath,
I ask that no tears be shed.
Instead, I request that there be laughter,
Laughter to fill rooms and shake shoulders.
I want there to be joy upon my departure,
Joy that may follow me wherever I go.

Do not tell them the truth.
Tell them I died valiantly,
Protecting the helpless and
Playing savior for the weak

Tell them I was fearless,
Completely unafraid and unfazed
By anything that was ever placed
Obstructively in my path.

Tell them that I danced in the rain
And that I never got sick, ever in my life,
That I wrote beautiful things and
Spoke wonderful words.
Do not tell them the truth.

Or better yet, please do.

Tell them I was broken and frightened,
Pretending to be strong always.
Tell them I was a dreamer and I never woke up.

Tell them of the music I loved.
Speak of the people I greatly adored.
Tell them I was twisted, psychotic, confused
And beautifully, boastfully, blissfully so.
Tell them how I laughed as often as possible.
Explain how I never cried in the presence of others.

Tell them how I cared for others and how
I never did understand human nature.
Tell them you could never know me
Without knowing my deepest secrets.
Tell them how few people really knew me.

Tell them they are beautiful and loved
Because that’s what I would say, if I could.
Tell them goodbye and wipe their tears.

Tell the truth of my gloriously insignificant life
But only to the ones who loved me most.

I am surrounded by beautiful people
Who possess such wonderful minds
And have such brilliant futures.

And looking around at them all, I see
They’re losing sleep and health and sanity.

And all I can do is wrap my arms around them,
Trying to encourage the most unbreakable pain away.
And I fear that one day it will become too hard.

I want to keep them happy
More than I have ever wanted
To try and save myself.

I want you less, I want you gone,
I want you not at all.
How liberating all this is
To watch these petals fall.

A step away, another face
To grace my morning rise
No longer will I wait to see
The smile in your brown eyes.

So many dreams that never seem
To want to take their leave.
If you would have given me the chance to try,
I would have been all that you need.

But I miss you less, I miss you none.
I know I won’t miss you at all.
If you go picking pretty things,
You may watch dead petals fall.