maybe it's the way
the wind feels
in the dark;
different and breathless

or the light
that bounces off of the
wet streets;
blurry and reckless

regardless,
midnight is the only time
that she gets in her car
and allows herself
a dose of tears, a drop of laughter

because feeling
is a little easier
in a private metal death chamber
surrounded by
broken beauties and unfulfilled dreams

when there is no point b
and point a
is just a fragmented memory

***** laundry
under aching feet
at 2am
with seven
eight
twelve
unread messages
breaking the silence

empty stomach
but clean teeth
and so many empty pages
in notebooks
scattered in between
used tea bags
and dry rose petals

i add my socks to the mess
and close my eyes
trying to remember
what breathing feels like

her smile was all
that i needed

the laugh tumbling
from her lips
drenched in 'aloha coconut' chapstick
the only thing i allowed myself to
want

without her
i am a hollowed out rind
sitting on the
sidewalk, with
the chalk fading away because of the drizzle
and
no one
to draw in the lines
because she and i
were the only ones
that ever played
hopscotch

we held onto dreams
wider than the Milkyway
dancing under the pouring rain
wishing dandelion buds
into a one-way to center stage

we stayed up past daybreak
conquering our fears
shaping them to laughter
timeless to the melody of
Our wild hearts

i spit out
the words
you put in my mouth
so you feel
okay

but the taste
of rot
and rust
still remains
on my
tongue

overwhelmed and breathless
but
in the way that makes you
tired of existing

until the realization
that i have not been
drowning
deep in the ocean

my feet are planted
in the sky
and it's only my head
under water
and
if i just keep walking

i'll be in the clouds

i'm such a
paper person

and i've got
the same
design as
everyone else

i'm in a
different frame
but the story
has all the same lines
the same oxford comma
punctuating
the same lies

and i scream

thinking
that my voice
sounds
different
than the others
screaming beside me

what *******.