One of the eeriest things in my life right now
is that she died almost three years ago
but her Facebook account is still running.
I get little notifications on her birthday
and those weird "you haven't talked to this person in a while!
Reconnect!" blurbs every so often, still.
I could send her endless messages
but no one would get them. She's just gone
and somewhere there's a tiny part of a server
with all her messages, photos, likes and dislikes
on it, and no one will ever check it again.
She left a tiny cybernetic scar on the skin of the internet,
and what happens to all that stored data is as uncertain
and as unknowable as where she is now, if either
still exist at all. And she's not the only one - there
are so many little things left unattended
in the absence of the dead, minuscule holes
torn in the fabrics of our lives because no one
will ever fill them completely again.
No one will ever laugh like they did
or run their hands through their hair
in the exact same way. And if they do,
there is more missing - the same smile,
but different eyes. The same name,
but a different feeling. Nothing will ever
be the same again. Each moment the whole universe
is made and unmade again, infinite combinations
of personality and circumstance, and you never think
about what you're really going to miss until it's gone,
and then it's all you can think about.
Somewhere in the vastness of this empty planet,
a light on a server is blinking, the graveyard
of abandoned Facebook pages: some intern's hand is reaching
to pull the plug.

empty on the insides
like a dish scrubbed clean
full up of nothing
even memories
feel too much like dreams
like all those things
that we did
and we said we would do
are just echoes
you're not anyone,
you're just a reminder
of someone i once knew
i don't know where i'm going
i don't know where i'll land
i get a feeling it's different
from everything i got planned
i'm not afraid of the future
but i'm still shaking somehow
weighing nothing means
i could just float out the window
i'm just a shell of a person
just a shell of a girl
not anyone or anywhere
or anything right now
i exist in this space
and this space exists in me
and the words that i want to say
won't make it past my teeth
i am empty and i'm no one
and i used to be so full
at least there is no darkness
at least now there is no cold
i'm not ready for the future
but i'm no longer afraid
i'm not thinking about anything
but i think that that's okay
for now

I feel so detached some days.
I am not who I was. I am not
the girl who walked those high school halls,
red lipstick smudges and sidelong rejections
of boys who didn't know the mess they were after -
I am her and I am not her; at the heart
of things, the real truth of it, yes
we are the same, but I now
would not say those things she said
or do those things she did, or think
even as she thought.

Detached from the past I am now wholly
freed from the fetter of past selves, free
of their guilts, their regrets, their desires;
I am floating, minuscule distances above the dust,
I don't belong in that skin anymore, I can't help
but feel itchy in it, wanting to claw my way
out of my own skin. I don't know
what it was that tied me to her before
and is now gone, I can't see
the ribbons of gravity that held me
to the surface of this luminous planet:
reforging those bonds is a task invisible
and out of reach, something I won't know I'm doing
won't know I've done until it's over -

and on it goes, the floating and the molting,
and I can't quite see the places
where my new feathers are coming in,
but oh God how they itch.

Part I
i wake and turn over in the night
as i do
and i can feel my bones stir, feel
the restlessness just under my skin.
i gotta get out of here, but i am
so afraid of what's coming next

in daylight i walk
the same hallways as always
i love it here, i love my life
i love being alive, i love the people i know
i can't imagine living
any other way.

but i gotta get out. my feet itch
my skin don't fit right over my bones
my mind wanders too far
too quickly, i gotta follow it
even though i don't know what's coming
next, even though saying goodbye
is so **** hard.

Part II
i have finally done it, i have done it
moved out moved away
moved on and
i sleep as i haven't slept
in years.
and it's surreal being here,
like i'm living in a dream
and i don't want to wake up

everything is so much better
than i thought it could be. my bones
are resting for now, i can stretch out
and feel free for the first time
i've ever known.

time runs in slow circles
on this lazy island and i've been here
for weeks but it feels like lifetimes,
and i never, never want to leave,
and if it was my choice,
i wouldn't. but it's not,
and i have to be going again

Part III
culture shock
all over my body, shaking me
awake all night, and i never thought
being home could feel
so strange, like i'm a stranger
like i don't belong.

the faces of my family
are memories, stolen
from photographs. i don't
really know them, i've changed
so much, and they haven't.
i don't know who i am here
and all my friends are ghosts
trying to convince me to stay.

but it won't work. in the morning
i'll be gone again, like rain
always moving on, have to go again
have to get out get out get out
of here, this place is too lethargic,
too much residual fear here, i

loved the time spent here,
but i'm too far gone. i love my
friends here, love my
mother and my brothers,
my father and my teachers,
and all their voices
crying out as one
wouldn't get me to stay.

Part IV
it's not really leaving. it's not really
wandering, as much as i'd like it to be.
but if i left, if i really truly left,
i might never settle down again

if i scratched my bones and picked up
and left every time i felt that itch,
i don't think i'd ever come home
i'd never be anywhere at all

i wanted so badly
to not be alone
to curl up safe
in anyone's arms
but i never did

did my fears
outweigh my wants?
did i think that
it was wrong
or too selfish
or too childish
somehow?

from now on, when
i don't want
to sleep alone
i will find my way
into anyone's arms
i will seek out safety
i will seek out rest

i'm on the verge of the future now,
really truly on the edge. i'm riding out
this high while it lasts, hoping
that i won't wake up anxious,
burdened with all the stuff i've got
to take care of. these short days now
will soon be over: that's what matters,
that the end's in sight. can't wait
to be gone, can't wait to be
moving on. all my life i'll spend

leaving now: jumping one city, one life
to the next, trading friends, families,
swapping beds and patterns and
smiles whenever my bones start
to itch. all the time i'm waiting now,
it's just a matter of days, of hours,
of minutes. everything big will soon
be something much smaller: a rock,
a thought, the time left, the distance
between me and you. it's all almost over
and i'm not scared anymore. i can't wait.

wandering
city streets alone
as a child
gets old
as soon as
your popsicle melts
and you drip
on your favorite shirt
and you lose your steps

bare feet rough
on sun-baked
pavement
glittering
with broken glass
and i don't feel it
and i don't bleed
and i want
to go home.