my feet are the brains of this chase
numb and blistered and calloused and bleeding
the skin on my shoe-less heels ran raw
made visible to brandish my journey
from one end of your heart to the other

the day we met
you planted caterpillars in me.
every time we talked
those caterpillars grew
then cocooned
and eventually
they were butterflies.

i remember they always fluttered around
when i saw you
or heard your voice
or even heard your name.
it was a beautiful feeling, truly.
i felt light.

but those butterflies in my stomach
turned to wasps when you left.

now when i see you
or hear your voice
or even hear your name
those wasps start stinging
my head gets hot
my fists mold into grenades.

i wish you hadnt planted
those caterpillars in me
for everyday i get stung
and its all your fault.

at this point
i'm getting tired
of not talking
(especially how we used to)

i want to feel
the energy
that your presence exudes.

i miss the excitement
that comes with
seeing your face
and hearing your voice.

should you be there, dreaming of me too,
i hope youre dreaming of the soft clouds of kisses we shared
and the sweet perfume of my nervousness.
i hope youre dreaming of the moments where it was just us two,
the surrounding world drowned out by the beating of our hearts and dull whispers of unwritten love stories.
should you be there, dreaming of me too,
i hope youre dreaming of the electrifying touch of our fingers, hands, minds, and souls.
i hope youre dreaming of the comfort and safety we found in one another, feeling at home as long as we were together.

even the most beautiful roses
have thorns.
you find one you love
you care for it as though
it is your only child.
but despite how well
you treat your flower
one wrong move
and it ****** you.
it happens in an instant.
before you can even
recognize your mistake
youre bleeding.
blood trickles down the stem
and it stains the leaves
as a constant reminder
of the time your beloved rose
hurt you.

you learn
all those beautiful love poems
you read over and over
filling you with butterflies
weren't about you.
you are not the focus
of the poets affection.
you are not the one
giving them inspiration and spark
to bleed love onto paper.

and that's when it seeps
into the deepest parts of your skin.
crushing your bones
tearing your muscle
ripping you to shreds.

today you dropped
a bomb on me.
you asked me
if i love you.
of course my answer
was fogged by hesitation
and stuttering
making my rebuttal clear.

i wanted to tell you
but i was so scared.
scared of unreciprocation
and rejection.
scared it would be too much for you
too overwhelming
and you would want to leave again.

the truth of the matter is
i am utterly
head over heels
in love with you.
there's not a thing in my mind
that tells me otherwise.

ive imagined a life without you
and lived a short one too
i hated it
you were the only thing
on my mind
every waking moment
and every sleeping one , too.
you wouldn't leave my head.

wild and violent and merciless and irrational and hard and strong and troubled and excited and loud and rough and sharp and controlling.

but soft and delicate and gentle and caring and tender and warm and compassionate and pleasing [oh so pleasing] and kind and pleasant and loveable.

these qualities go hand and hand, fitting perfectly with one another.
the perfect balance of black and white
evil and good
insanity and sanity
devil and angel.

that word
isnt something i have.
i was close
to actually doing it today
but i still get so nervous around you.
so i took it to my phone,
and let her do my ***** work.
its much easier that way.
less stressful and awkward, too.
im glad i did it.
i hope this can be the start
of something better.
i want better.

you've left me for good
though you'll never be gone

i am a bomb.
tick tick ticking.
i am neutral as of now
who knows when i'll explode
taking everyone near me out, too.

im so sorry for all the pain
i have brought upon you.
im so sorry for always making you worry.
im so sorry for never being stable.
i know its annoying when
you have to constantly check
and double check
and triple check
that im safe
and doing as well as can be.
i know the dry replies are hard to work around.
when i don't have the mental capacity
to hold a single ******* conversation.
"yeah"
"lol"
"ok"
its hard for me, too.

im so ******* scared of being alone.
i can hardly function with the support i have,
how the **** will i do it on my own?
the answer is simple :
i wont.

i will give up on myself
just as everyone else has.
i will collapse into the dirt
moldy and rotten
a corpse of empty emotion.
and nobody will dig me up.

temporary fulfillment for lifelong emptiness
though we all seek further satisfaction
knowing it won't last
satisfaction cannot be trapped-
nor held by lock and key
our knuckles turn white
due to our lack of willingness to let go

silent whispers fill my head
though all of their voices are the same:
yours.
gentle endearments tingle through my ears
walking to my car, the wind wraps its arms around me
and for a passing moment i feel your fingertips on my skin.
the sun is blinding, and in the glare i see
the reflection of me in your eyes.
a dark cloud rolls by and suddenly
its pouring
standing alone in the dark parking lot
unable to distinguish tears from falling rain.
jumping over puddles feels like crashing through waves
in the midst of an evil winter storm.
inside my car is freezing
parallel to the memories i share with you.

forwards.
backwards.
left.
right.
up.
down.

all these directions
i could choose,
but the only one
i want to go
is far
far away.

my feet are tired
and my legs ache
and my chest is heaving
from all the running around
you have caused me.

the constant back and forth
is wearing me thin
and i dont want to run anymore
at least let me walk
and catch my breath
before making me sprint.

i regret telling you my biggest fears,
you only used them against me in the end.

where were those words
when everything began falling apart?
they were supposed to keep us safe
but it's like we forgot how to speak.

ive never trusted myself
enough to not rely
on anyone else
for my happiness

because of all the
pain
and loneliness
and abandonemt
that has been dropped on me
it makes me think
i am the problem.

ive learned to be alone.
ive learned how to curate
contentment.
ive learned the difference
between doing things for yourself
because you want to
and because you need to.

i dont want to need anyone,
but because of my past
its in my blood
and my mind
that i cannot function alone.

when i do start to need someone
and i attach myself to them,
they always leave me.
they make my trust
and reliability issues
go down the drain
all over again.

i know there will be times
when i need someone again
but im so scared of backtracking.
im so scared to just throw away
all of the progress i have made.

my hand trails the surface
of the empty spot in my bed,
aching for your chest to be beneath my touch.
my fingers clench the sheet,
making it crumple the same way your t-shirt would.
my hand floats to the pillow <your cheek>
not letting my fingertips escape the flow of movement
up the bed <your collarbone, your neck>
my thumb grazes the corner of the pillow
and i cant help but mistake it for your jaw.
gently caressing the lump of manufactured cotton,
i can see you looking down at me with those sleepy eyes
which i do so adore.
my leg finds its way around my body pillow <your leg>
and they <we>  are entangled.
imitating warmth and comfort
and making up for the what-could-have-beens,
my bedside knows only the truth of my loneliness.
christmas lights gleaming at the sight of my yearning
like smiles from sad stars.
the clock on my nightstand ticks and tocks,
reminding me of missed opportunities and wasted time.
the ceiling fan wizzes away each sigh of desperation.

there is familiarity in abstraction
but only visible to those
who have trained themselves to see the truth

if a feeling could be expressed
as a color
this one would be red.
my surroundings are glowing
a magnificent shade of crimson.
i am a steep
slippery *****
of lava
racing down the side of a volcano
leaving everything i touch
with my fiery energy
nothing but a memory
of happier
and more beautiful times.

drown me
in the molten liquid
that is my blood.

in my head there lies
a collection of unfinished poetries.
my writings aren't finished because
experience is endless.
heartbreak and sorrow
or growth and prosperity,
my soul changes every day
and so do my stories.

it is times like these when i miss you the most. late at night, sitting alone in my room, with nothing but a candle and my favorite book.

it is times like these two weeks ago when we would be discussing details of our days, or sharing any new artists or movies we had stumbled upon. we have always enjoyed the same kind of things.

that is quite possibly why is has been so hard for me to start to move on. every single thing i enjoy reminds me of you in some twisted, disconnected way. it could be a pair of jeans you once said fit me well, or the smell of freshly cut grass because your favorite color is green.

i often wonder if things remind you of me.
remember when i told you i despise the sound of a pen clicking?
i hope you see my face every time you click one open.
i hope memories fill your head, leaving you a cold and hollow body. i hope you feel as empty as you have caused me to feel.

you are such a poet, too. your way with words is enough to make me melt into your arms. that low growl of a whisper can put me to sleep, yet it simultaneously sends a wave of electricity racing through my veins, making my heart beat a thousand times a minute, and my lungs desperately try to catch an ounce of air.

it is times like these when i wish you hadnt left me clinging to your shadow. times like these, i wish you were here laying with me, hardly talking, listening to our favorite songs.

i recall the night you showed me that song like its a film i have watched every day since birth. i listened to it once, then twice, then for hours upon hours. i bawled my eyes out because it was such a sweet gesture, and nobody is ever sweet to me.

for a while you made me believe in love. you made me believe i wasnt as broken or damaged as i thought i was. but it was only for a little while. on the contrary, i never stopped giving you all the love i had, all the advice i had, all the stories i had, all the everything i had. maybe that is where i went wrong, putting my all into you when you were incapable of even giving me your full attention.

it is times like these when i realize how much i learned from you. i learned what it means to care about someone. what it means to put yourself through hell for someone. but i didnt learn those things by watching you. i learned those things by watching myself. you did teach me many other good things though. and thats what hurts the most.

all good things must come to and end.

there is nothing like
a hot mug of tea
and a silent phone call
with the one you care about
and love most.

the tea flows past your lips,
over your tongue,
down your throat,
supplying endless warmth
throughout your body.

on your phone,
you see a dark screen.
from your speakers,
you hear a dim electrical static
and soft breathing.
you realize she fell asleep.

you let her rest
because she needs it.
she's had a rough day.

she feels so alone
in her hardly lit room,
but so comforted
being with you on the phone.
having you there for her
without physically being there.

it makes you a better person,
i think.
having the power
to support someone
in a time of need,
despite all the trouble
you have been going through yourself.

you push all of your problems aside
to help others.
that is what helps you the most,
being able to make others feel good.
because you don't feel good
until the people around you
do too.

what a strange thing it is
to feel as if someone is trying
to communicate with you
in the most uncommon
and particular ways.

maybe youre too scared
to face the reality
of what you did.

maybe youre more weak
than you make yourself
out to be.

whatever it may be,
i notice.
i can analyze
and interpret
and find the meanings
of everything.
dont think i wont know
its about me.

from my point of view
all of this would be so much easier
if you would just ******* talk to me.
the back and forth
the petty and childish posting
is unnecessary.

in all honesty
i want you to talk to me.
i want a civil relationship,
not all of
whatever you are trying to do.

until then,
"stay out of my way"
and let me be okay.
okey dokey, if you will.

i allow myself to wonder how you are,

but i cant bring myself to ask.

i may be bitter,
but you still taste like candy to me.

the most wonderous feeling
is realizing that maybe
just maybe
im not a *******
you just dont know
how to show me otherwise

in front of the tree, the leaves look bland;
a full tree with no purpose.

underneath the tree, the light shines onto your feet.
through the leaves and spaces between them
pour marvelous shades of green, red, and yellow.

differing in intensity, the once thought as a bland tree is
remarkably deep and varying.
encapsulating your eyes in a world of color,
you see the purpose growing from its branches.

with every blow of the wind,
the tree shivers in the cold air
dropping more and more pieces of natural confetti
into the sea of autumn you're left to swim in.