Pulls a cigarette and lights it up
“They are gonna **** you those sticks”
Yeah well tonight I don’t care
That’s what I’m here to do
Inhale it up and let it out
Close your eyes and start the count
Then you drop the gun
Cry tear after tear
God gave you life and you were going
To give it all back.
This isn’t the end but maybe soon
You realize you are only here for her.

Fog lays like a pale figure in an uncomfortable chair
languishing
and I lay too
with a full heart
under a duvet
yet awake in the dark
as the electric fan ticks away in the corner
and on the street there is no one
not delinquent teenagers
not stupefied drunks
not star-crossed lovers in the cold

just the vapor in the air
too lukewarm to form hoarfrost
too cool to disperse

the streetlights are refracted into orbs of blue light
hanging with a soft buzz
over wet asphalt,
beacons for no one,
no thing.

I can't tell you what it's like to feel like dying.
I can't tell you how I'm so afraid of death but I play with it like its a childhood friend.
I can't tell you what it's like to cry yourself to sleep for the 47th night in a row.
I can't tell you how I feel when I wake up screaming in the middle of the night.
I can't tell you, but I can show you.
I can show you what it's like to feel like dying in my playful smile and dull eyes.
I can show you what it's like to be afraid of death but play with it because I have scars on my body but I refuse to go to a funeral.
I can show you what it's like to cry yourself to sleep for 47 nights in a row by my blood shot eyes and bags underneath with tear stains covering my pillow.
And I can show you how It feels to wake up in the middle of the night screaming by the empty Xanax bottle in the bottom of my purse.
I can't always tell you the things that are going through my mind, but you can't say that I never showed you.

After that night the bags under my eyes never went away and streams of white hair made their appearance.
My insides felt like they were planning a revolt and every bit of humanity I had left vanished with a siren like shriek.
My tears felt like acid and the carpet still looks bleached where they fell from the waterfall on my face.
My breath had been stolen by the two ton weight on my chest and I didn't want it back.
My heart had proclaimed its demise because surely nothing can strive after being torn in two.
My eyes wept, my mind wept, even the hands that you used to hold so dear have wept.
After that night my fear has never went away, and even with death, my love never will.

*Some broken hearts just cannot mend.

I feel like I've forgotten how to breathe. Like the wave is coming down on me and I've forgotten how to swim.

When you told me I was doing great for a woman my size, I passed you off and told myself that "compliment" had good intentions.
When you called me sweet cheeks I ignored you. A woman like me is used to men like you.
When you told me the stair master made my *** look bangin, I was both honored and appalled.  My *** may be my greatest feature but ****** comments have their place and the gym is not one of them.
When you asked me for my number, you were rude, acting in a way in which no gentleman should act. I told you no. And I meant no.
When you called me a ***** loud enough for the whole gym to hear, you were only making yourself look bad.
When you came up and wrapped your arm around my shoulder and told me you were going to take me out for a good time on friday night, I was terrified and suddenly praying for a **** whistle.
When you insisted I promptly informed you I was lesbian, and to let you down gently, not my type.
When you called me a **** I took no offense, that word has become meaningless. Then you told me it must be a phase, that I just hadn't been with a man like you. That you could change me.
When you said "hop on this **** ****" I was done with your games. I pushed you aside and when you ****** my shoulder back you were the one to end up with their *** on the ground.
Dear namless man at the gym,
When you said you could help me through my phase, you were wrong. Being gay is not my phase. Being straight was.