That which glitters is not always gold
Those who wander are not always lost
Those who are alive are not always living
And those who are dead are not always gone

I lost the power to write long
words about you back when
you lost faith in what I had
to offer. Instead you have
become a jumbled mess
on paper, the only problem
on the sheet I can't solve.
I have begged for
reconciliation for months
now, traveled down a
path you paved just
for me to find that
you built a concrete wall
with a ladder only
on your side.
I deserve so
much more
than this.

who I want to be is
trapped beneath my
skin, stretching
stretching,
tearing at my
seams.
she cries, "let him go
and the wound will
set me free. oh, god,
please."

I spread out everything I had inside
of me on your living room
floor
in small, neat stacks.
I said
fix me
fix me
fix me
please
but you didn't know
how.