Darling my darling
i sometimes think of writing a letter to
you everyday
even though you are never far away
i sometimes still dream of him
but no matter,
this heart is yours.
remember when we first met?
a chilly winter night,
visiting the Petco cats
and playing nintendo
while your record player spinned.
Seems surreal now.
like that time
you laid yourself as a
blanket over me
and we watched outer space
on dewy grass
with hands clasped.
you spilled your secrets to me,
whispered them into my hair,
where they nestled and found warm dark
comfort there.
your lips
oh your lips
how not even the gods could forget
such two perfect
bows that tremble,
opening gently over mine.
somehow you breathed life into me
and that was the end to my
sad
ghost story.
so
darling
my darling
thank you
for unlocking something inside
of me
something that never stops
singing.

After you appeared the first time,
I knew it wouldn't be long before my heart bloomed,
a daisy on the windowsill.

Like the twelfth strike come midnight,
it happened
far sooner than I expected.

Between sips of my tea,
your eyes met mine
and there I glimpsed winter;
iced and blue with the radiance
of autumns moon.

I sat atop the granite counter,
legs dangling
and your coffee breath
pressed so close to the nape of my neck,
where your soothing voice reminded my soul to stay.

I rested my forehead against your broad chest
shut my eyes;
listened to the nagging tease of the free wind.

My eyes fluttered open up at you
your familiar grin radiated the dimly lit room.

Your steady heart beat set the rhythm.
I peeled my palms off your chest,
leaving my hand prints behind.

I felt your arms wrap around my waist
and noticed your hands mark their print beside mine.

I wasn't looking for love, when I came across you;
I was looking for life.
and I suppose within you I found both.

With the conviction of a grieving fourteen year old, I cut a thick **** deep into my vein & watched the blue beneath my skin melt into a red stream that trickled through my fingers. I didn't cut in rows, for safety. I cut in columns. I watched the gray walls that encased me fall into a dusty mass beneath my feet. I watched all of the chaos that spiraled around me grow smaller and smaller until it was nothing but a dime sized glisten before me. I heard everything fall eerily silent like the serenity of a funeral we all knew was coming; the end to a suffering. The kind of ending that makes our bones ache but lifts our hearts in a sea of  some twisted hope that we feel guilty for feeling but are still comforted by. A silence unpentrible by the anxious sirens of an ambulance headed toward my house or the hurried footsteps of my sister's cheap moccasin's headed toward my bedroom door.

That was the first time, I felt terrifed of my own hands; this sense of genuine suspense for what I'd do next as if I wasn't the one in charge of where my limbs went. The first time I ever felt that evil love for hating myself; that desire to press down harder; to clip the vein where it starts; to let myself pour out like a barrel of salt water; to become dry skin over still bones... That was the first time, I made an honest attempt to fight myself off of my own frame. The first time I ever wished I'd slept through every hour of my life up until this point just so that I'd have nothing to think about.

Well, four years later, I'm just so glad I made it out because the happiness that has grown over my skull is enough to make me cry and I don't even know that little girl who so desperately wanted to die.

Blessed is the heartache
That eroded your skin
To reveal your bleeding self beneath
With the other fears, of rejection, of physical pain,
Of losing your mind, of losing your eyes
Bleeding words, painting, making music

When the world suddenly turns upside down
You plunge deep to swim with the stars
You are not afraid of the darkness
Knowing it makes the light shine brighter
Proximate, Intimate, Infinite...
And when I taste your poetry, I kiss your name