maybe i want pain
because i am good at it
like wallowing
and going through a cycle
of fear, sadness, anger, empowerment
re-discovering myself
finding my own joy
done it so many times that
it's expected
so
when you offer me another kind of joy
i hang my head and don't answer
and you think
whatever it is
whatever conclusion you come to
i don't know
i don't give you anything
pretend i'm having a good time
until you get sick of it and leave
and it's too late
and the suffering is cold comfy familiar
always

That girl sitting there
is a beautiful tragedy
her mind is an aghast
her body
is her grave
her bones
ache
while her throat is being strangled
whats wrong with her mind
cant ever be untangled.
she,
is a beautiful tragedy

Shouldn't be in public
Not fit for company
Won't remember names
Might interrupt, awkwardly
Failed attempts at humour
You must hate me
Failed attempts at flattery
Please don't hate me
Didn't mean to say that
Small talk breakdown
Why am I still talking
Self sabotage takedown
Why am I still here
I'm the absolute worst
This shouldn't be so painful
I wish I wasn't cursed

NCL May 2019

When you had to go, I sorely regretted
    every word I didn't say,
    all the things I didn't do,
    the debt of gratitude I didn't pay.

The years have been long and trying
    and I miss you every day;
    still I don't have the answer to
    the question: "why couldn't you stay?"

When you left, I promised to achieve
    all our plans and dreams, come what may,
    and for the most part, I believe
    I've fulfilled the vow that I made.

But I always think about what things
    would've been like if you'd been here
    to guide me, spur me on,
    scold me or waylay all of my fears.

Then I realize that you are here
    in every dream I live or trial I get through
    for you taught me everything you could
    and you always said I was the best of you.
So, really, I don't have to miss you every day,
    yet I know in my heart I'll always do.

*(c) emeraldine087

Year after year
Day after day
The grief is still the same
It didn’t get better
It didn’t become okay
It swallowed me whole
Refusing to let me go
I shed a tear for everyday without you
The tears are endless like the heartbreak
Days pass and suddenly I’m back to that horrid day
I’m not allowed to shut everyone out for that day
My family refuses to let me
Funny how we all lost you
And yet they still fight me on grieving for the day
But I know you’d smack me upside the head
And ask me why I’m crying
I know you’re at ease and happy
But what I would give for another night on the front porch swing
A night I didn’t know at the time but would become one of the many memories I now hold onto like my life depends on it
But I know it doesn’t
But your memory does
And I use your memory as my life support
I miss you Grandpa
I love you Grandpa
I wish I told you that more often when you were still here

We're almost touching.
we were walking side by side,
you're talking about cabs in your hometown.
I can feel the gravity of your hand, calling my fingers
whispering "it's alright."

We're touching but not quite.
you held my shoulder to protect me from the passing cars.
and for the first time in a long while, I felt so fragile.
In this world where I find it hard even to breathe,
you believed me.

I almost said it.
All I need is one ounce of strength to tell you every single thing that I have ever felt about you.

I want to find home in your collarbones.
Would you be kind enough to let a stranger in?
I want to seep in your being because I'm cold.
The world is harsh and my cracks are aching.

Almost.

i have anxiety
undiagnosed.

sometimes it feels like my head is stuffed with crumpled ***** of paper: the things I never said, the things I should have never said, the things that someone never said to me.

all of these things are written on every piece of paper
there are so many right now that no more would be able to fit
yet i can't stop thinking things, i can't stop saying stupid things, i can't stop wishing things.

i sigh I reach up to my forehead and i grasp my bangs
with my shaky hands and pull

i'm hoping one day when i do this
the top of my head will yank open
all of these crumpled pieces of thoughts
will pour out in a pile
on the floor
i will kneel down
and uncrumple each and every piece
i will read each one
until my head fills up again.