i do not have the patience of a god,
yet i find myself waiting yet again.

i do not have the patience of a god,
but when you return with tears in your eyes,
my arms are open wide—
heart willing, though it aches again—
ready to hold you close once more.

i do not have the patience of a god, no,
but i do think i have the patience of a flower.

i do not think you notice,
too busy in your own mind.
for once, i was a blooming daisy,
so welcoming, so bright—
day after day. week after week.

i do not think you saw me,
for the lily petals that once were brilliant
had curled and wrinkled into an ugly shade of brown,
and the daffodil petals scatter on the ground,
leaving nothing but a twisted, wilted stem.

i do not think i have the patience of a god,
though i think i was given a heart like a god.  
for i still love you, painfully,
like thorns on a rose.

and though i may have a love like a god,
the rest of me is still
so stupidly human.

please don’t come back this time.

though if you do,
i will open my arms again.

“all i can write is despair”

you want to stop but you can’t
everybody is watching you

watching, waiting
waiting, watching

“i’m looking for myself”

you’re alone
drowning in a sea of eyes
listening to
whispering winds of judgement

“i can’t find myself”

this desert you own
is filling with tears

tears become streams
streams become oceans

“i’m drowning”

everything is falling apart
you can do whatever you want

“i want to die”

your oceans turn red
your skies become black
the winds chant a mantra

everyone hates you. you’ve always been useless. you aren’t meant to be alive. please just die.

“i want to die”

you promised you’d be happier

“i am a mess”

are you?

i stare at the mirror
and there is
no reflection.

instead i see
            (every horrible memory)
flashes of crimson
waves of salty streams
piercing sounds
darkness
silence
darkness
gasps
darkness

i see a whimper
a sob
blood dripping
tears falling

and i realize
it is my reflection.

a heavy heartbeat
pushes against weak lungs,
creating a rhythm filled only with
fear,
sadness,
and anger
all at once.

trembling hands
press against anxious thighs
hoping to hide from the rest of the world.

it becomes harder to breathe,
harder to see,
harder to hear—

to ask for help,
though it is something i need,
it is not something i want.

my vision is blurry now.

i stare down at my hands,
hiding my face with the hair
that cascades along my shoulders—

the world outside is happy,
rotating at a fast pace
without a single care.

they say time stops for nobody,
it waits for no one,
and will continue on whether or not
you want it to.

in this case,
i desperately wait for time to stop,
for everything to go black.

everyone feels just as far away
as i remember.

only now
i, too, am far away
from myself.

and both figures of me
are nowhere near the others.

we do not reach out,
we do not scream,
we only cry
and hope that time
runs out faster.

until the day arrives,
when our clock
finally reaches
zero.

you are the moon
illuminating soft shades of white
surrounded by a plethora of stars.

i gaze up at you every night
with arms stretched out
hoping i can reach far enough
to touch you with my fingertips.

because you are so beautiful
and i want to be beside you once more.

you leave me breathless.
i wait every night to see you again—
sometimes, you are not always there
but you always come back,
and i’m always there to admire you.

you are gentle
and you are sweet
and you light up my darkness
and give me hope.

but as i stretch out my hands
for the thousandth time
i realize that
no matter what i try
you are always far away from me.

and i fear that
as you grow more beautiful each night
surrounded by each of your stars
there is more distance between us.

i tell myself
to stop relying on people so often.
but i have always been good
at rebelling,
even against myself.

even if,
very rarely,
i know what’s good for me.

i pin my hopes on people’s promises,
even if my doubts
far outweigh
my beliefs.

but there is a part of me
that trusts too easily,
that hopes too much,
that relies so desperately,
with the desire that perhaps,
one day,
there will be someone
who follows through.

it has been years,
and i am still waiting.

i have been let down,
forgotten,
disappointed,
ignored,
abandoned,
left behind,

and i know it is time to close myself up.

but it is so difficult.

and it is very lonely.

i hate myself,
the part of me
that trusts,
that hopes,
that relies.

because even after
all of the tears
that made me feel as if
i was drowning,
even after
uneven gasps of air
that never seemed to reach my lungs,
and even after
trembling fingers, like violent earthquakes,
dig into my skin enough to draw blood,

i sit here,
with my doubts and my uncertainty,
with my misplaced trust
and my absurd hopes,
still waiting
for you
to keep your promise
for the first time.