sudden emptiness resides in my chest
an abyss of confusion and regret
opens up inside of me
and I am left with an uncertainty
of what tomorrow holds

nothing but eternal silence
a phone call that won't be answered
a letter that won't be read
a conversation that never took place
a one way train to an unknown destination

even when stars die, their light is seen for thousands of years
I long to give you the time that you deserve
beautiful souls are more rare than precious gems
the hope that radiates from a tiny body
is stronger than the radiation that has damaged you

Like my morning cup of green tea,
Once I let you steep
For a proper amount of time,
You are the refreshing routine
That wakes me up in the mornings
However, once I have let you absorb
The boiling emotions and hold in your steam,
You are the most bitter thing I've ever tasted.
And although, it's my fault, I still resent you for it
I'm sorry I did not properly love you
I'm sorry that I made you to be bitter

I can’t write this poem
I can’t write this poem because the last time I opened up to someone artistically they told me it was pretty dark and I should keep it to myself.

I can’t write this poem
I can’t write this poem because I was raised in a culture that was anti love and pro meaningless ***. I saw endless commercials about movies that glamorize a lifestyle in which your body is fulfilled but your heart is ignored and at that impressionable age I learned my heart came second but my allure came first and the less I cared that happier I would be and I carried that belief around with me the way I used to carry around a Bible as a child.

I can’t write this poem
I can’t write this poem because of the time that I opened my father’s phone to reveal a family secret I would hold to this day against my own moral instincts unraveling miles of insecurities wondering if I’m not a good enough daughter or if he stopped loving my mother or if true love was never real and although I had been taught marriage was my purpose, it was what I believed would make me happy, maybe rings aren’t enough to stay in love and maybe people’s feelings change and maybe no one actually has a “one true love” and that this purpose I had been taught was really an endless wild goose chase that only lead to broken families and lost souls.

I can’t write this poem
I can’t write this poem because sometimes I still wonder why I fell into an abyss of toxicity at such a young age. And when I say wonder I don’t mean a trivial ponder, I mean I contemplate every possible reason why the person who I once believed held the universe in her eyes would lie to my face, why she never kissed me in public and our love was always a secret, why she valued girls with blue hair but my blonde hair was not good enough, why I had to hide bruises from my family when I was still in high school or more importantly, why at the time, I thought I deserved them. These thoughts, this lingering paranoia that I am undeserving of healthy love, they muddy my interpretations of real life and distort reality and effect my relationships. My doctor would call these intrusive thoughts, my best friend would tell me they’re symptoms of PTSD, but I have come to realize that I’ve been burned and I am damaged and I hope to god I can recover.

But you,
Oh god, you
You can write this poem. You can be my safety net while I’m free falling in love. You can be the one to listen to my mental tilt-a-whirls, you can be the one that introduces my body and my heart, you can be the one that calms the storms in my mind when I’m questioning the love I’m deserving of. You are the one who makes sure I fall asleep in my bed after drunk nights, you are the one that still sees my value after acknowledging my flaws.
You can write this poem.

He felt her presence everywhere
She watched his every move
But She was gone no more was She
His dark side disapproved

One half hated, much like herself
The other filled with glee
The two halves fighting all the time
And all because of She

His double-self entranced her thoughts
She clung to every word
The danger carried her away
Like songs from dying birds

He’s on his knees proposing love
She simply answers “yes”
The darkness is opposing it
It’s all a ****** mess

Her body lies on Winter’s floor
Observing from the sky
She left our world and can’t come back
Now all She does is fly

Blood flows gently on this cold morn
Other emotions flee
But love She had for half that man
The one that’s filled with glee

We’re all alone, the light and dark
The innocent with glee
Stuck with the man inside his head
For I am the carcass called She

My breath feels empty
My throat is constantly chocking the screams I long to release
The idea of something so permanent makes me feel stuck in the present
This is not a distant vacation,
This is an emptiness in my heart that will last for the rest of my life
I am constantly apologizing to an unmonitored Facebook account
Forever is a long time to deal with this emptiness

The ocean will never understand my yearnings for love

And I will never understand why he likes to swallow boats

But we can still pretend that I sing as beautifully as a siren

Like we pretend that all sailors go to Heaven

Forever I will crave your affection

Like I crave milk when I eat a peanut butter sandwich

And no one will know the emptiness I will become

When my tiny angel finally flies home

I hope that Paris is nice this time of year

And I hope that Asia is even better

Kiss the person you love

Before someone else does first

Is there anything that can make me feel colors

Besides Pink Floyd and floating on waves

But really, what more is life than eating meals

And feeling things that don't make much sense at all

he embodies religion
I remain an empty carcass
unsure
of what is ******* the ocean
out of my trembling heart
pour into me the hell I need
to burn every hesitation
and insecurity
that prevented me from
the nurturing
of a sacred garden
new colors flourished
breath taking, breath stealing
by a faerie radiating light
in a place
that I neglected until weeds intoxicated
the gateway to my inner peace
something as delicate as religion can not be neglected
a reckless soul cannot care for the fragile imbalance
of insecurities and affection