As sleep overcomes me,
my unsteady hands loosen their grip on the locket
and it slides through my fingers
and falls to the ground.

Love, despair, loss, desire.
I imagine them so deeply
that when I blink them away,
I almost forget that they're fantasy.
Have I really never loved her,
lost them?
Have I truly not felt even a fraction
of that emotion that just engulfed me?

Plunging to the ground
I close my eyes, giving up
This is where it ends

The threat has gone away,
but still the fear stays..

For you, my dear poetry,
I will not stir up my emotions
I will create them.

For you, my dear poetry,
I will not lie,
I will create a fiction so delicate and complex
that it becomes my truth.

For you, my dear poetry,
I will not close myself off,
I will tear my body open
and let the demons take control.

For you, my dear poetry,
I will not become a better person,
I will bathe in my emotions
and revel in my despair.

For you, my dear poetry,
I will do anything.

His mouth forms a wide smirk
as the others laugh at his words.
But it isn’t funny.

She lowers her watery eyes, glasses slipping
down her nose.

Book pages flip
in the breeze that picks up.
She loses her page.

His mouth opens, sharp daggers sliding
from his lips
Their laughter echoed by the trees.

She gets up, stumbles, falls.
Lines of carefully thought-out words tumble to the ground
his foot stretched out in front of her.

Their hands reach for the pages.
Fingers wrap
Around worn bindings.

They play tug-of-war,
trying to pull it out
of each other’s grasp.

A rip.

Papers scatter in the wind.
Snickers fade with the footsteps
as her eyes rain tears.

I bend down.
Papers fill my hands
one by one.

She looks up.
The sun lights up her clouded eyes
as she takes the faded pages,
in her grasp again.

My life is like an iPad, once so full of energy and light.
Once so quick to learn, to play, to grow.

And then –
Broken.
Cracked.
Unfixable.

The light flickers out.
Abandoned.
Forgotten.
Worthless.
Replaced.

Because
Why would anyone see something in it?
Why would anyone try to mend the unmendable?

Right?

Gently, gently,
pick up this dying child.
Gently, gently,
caress this soft cheek.
Gently, gently,
sob as her skin pales.
Gently, gently,
rock her back and forth in your arms.
Gently, gently,
set her cold body down to rest.
Gently, gently,
wet this corpse with your tears.
Gently, gently,
stroke her blonde hair for the last time.
Gently, gently,
kiss her forehead and say goodbye.
Gently, gently,
weep as her body disappears beneath the dirt.
Gently, gently,
caress the worn image of her laughing face
and smile.

As I watch
your soft limbs bow before me
giving me permission to climb your sturdy trunk
up to your leaves.

I peek through the branches,
the world broken up into crisscrossed windows
each one a glimpse into someone's world.

I'm reminded of my younger days,
climbing higher and higher
until the sky brushed my fingers
in a soft command.

I would be a sky pirate, searching
for something or somewhere or someone
until momma came outside with lemonade and PB&J
and all my problems were solved
with a single kiss to my forehead.

Now, though, I simply watch from above
content in spending a few moments alone,
just me and you and the sky.

Wind picks up, your delicate branches waving in the breeze
letting swaths of gold float to the ground
in curtains that coat the cracks in the pavement
and hide the imperfections with golden rain.

And in that moment, there is nowhere else I'd rather be.

It wasn’t “I love you”
but at least it was goodbye.

I know you don't see me
I know even if you could, you wouldn't look
But I'll wave goodbye anyway.

There they were
Hand in hand
Forever, so it seemed.

Their hair creating halos
Around the heads
Of angels
As they fell.

Moonlight streamed through the trees
Illuminating the wicker basket
Toppled on the ground.

Casting light on the lonely
Checkered blanket
Splayed out beneath the tree.

Hand in hand,
They left this world
Hoping
The next one
Would be better.

Soft hearts beat quickly in time.
One, two. One, two.
I stare at her lips, then press them to mine.
One, two. One, two.
I curl up against her, thinking “This is a sign.”
One, two. One, two.
Then deepen the embrace, and let our bodies intertwine.

Hold me tight
So that I don't lose you, too..

As dusk falls
and night conquers yet again
I dream of dawn.

"I want to be just like you,"
I say to the decrepid old man.
"Just like you someday."

His laugh is raspy and thin
"My boy," he manages between his coughs,
"What is there left to desire?"

My giggle is the sound of songbirds
and churchbells ringing.

"Your eyes are bright,
they speak of hope and love.
Your mind is sharp,
full of lessons and wisdom.
Your mouth is tilted,
always curved into a slight smile.
Your wrinkles are deep,
laugh lines from years of use."

"But, my boy," he responds
in a gentle tone,
"My body is weak,
my hair is grey,
my brain forgetful,
and my money is none."

"And yet," I press,
"your gaze is soft,
your regrets are few,
your patience endless,
and your forgiveness infinite."

"And because of that," I conclude, "I want to be just like you."

How could you?!
You said you loved me
You said you were getting better
You smiled, your real smile
that last day..

How could you leave me
with only the worn memories?!
We planned our future
together!
We stayed sane
together!
We survived
together!
How can you leave me like this?
Broken.
Torn.
You've killed a part of me that can never be replaced
without even letting me say goodbye..

My mind morphed his evil grin
into a warm smile.

I am dawn.
A rising sun, its rays barely lighting the horizon.
Gentle swaths of yellow illuminate blurry figures,
their shadows intertwined but their hands empty.

I am the day.
Golden hair cascades down like a waterfall, reflecting beams of light
filtering through rainbow-painted trees.
She wanders alone towards emerald fields still clothed with morning dew,
her only company the flaxen creature gently howling through the silence beside her.

I am dusk.
The sweet scent of roses mingles with the crisp air
as the last whispers of light fade from the sky.
Four people are silhouetted against the dying sun,
grass tickling their feet as their laughter fills the air
and sugar-sweet strawberries fill their mouths.

I am the night.
Light spills out an open window
and a small figure gazes up at the glittering sky.
"I wish..." she breathes so softly that her words are lost in the wind, "I wish."
Then the curtains draw closed and all that's left
is a handprint on the fogged-up glass
and the promise of tomorrow.

I beg of you:

1. Examine me with curious eyes.
Crave to sneak a look within,
to see where the treasures lie.

2. Caress me with gentle fingers --
hold me in such a way
that every touch lingers.

3. Open me, peer into my soul
and study each aspect with care.
Hold each one in the softest embrace
no matter the fright or scare.

4. And this, I ask with all my heart --
love me, treasure me, and all my parts.
For despite appearances, despite my walls,
I am not Pandora's Box.

WE CAN’T BREATHE
WHEN YOU COVER OUR MOUTHS.

"Icarus," I breathe
through my dreams of flying free.
The naïveté of the youngling I desired to be
was a warning sign to all that watched his descent.
It was not his disobedience that led to this --
to his body buffeted in the merciless winds and swept up by the sea --
but being blinded by boundless beauty through his kaleidoscope vision.
What more could one wish for than the all-encompassing euphoria
of weaving through the sun-soaked clouds,
of learning the meaning of freedom as you reach up
to brush your fingers against the sun?
What more could one know than wanting something so desperately
that every shiny red sign is just one more bauble for your collection
as you struggle to escape the empty abyss engulfing you from within,
as you let the feeling of bliss envelope you for one heavenly moment,
as everyone screams in tinny voices that you should listen --
listen! --
but at least you got this one second,
this one heartbeat of a moment,
to finally let the chains fall from your bloodied wrists
and spread your newfound wings for all to see, for you to see,
for once, for nobody but yourself
before tumbling to the beat of gravity's forlorn yet never-ending song.
And maybe he regretted it
and maybe I will too
but as I press my palm against the echo of the sunlit expanse
reverberating in someone else's memory,
one word slips from my parted lips:
"Icarus."

I have forgotten the greatest idea
the most powerful words
the most cherished memory.

I curse my brain for allowing me to lose them,
to let the images slowly fade away.

I curse it for taking away
what I loved and treasured
for so long.

And yet
isn’t it the same thing
that gave me those memories
created those words
formed those ideas?

Isn’t the very thing I’m cursing
what I should be treasuring
the most?

If life was a book
or anything except this
We'd be together.

I don't know your name,
your face,
your smile,
your persona,
your personality.

I've never laughed with you,
talked with you,
or seen you face to face.

But
I know your
wants,
your needs,
your losses,
your loves.
Your whispered secrets,
your dying voice,
your silent screams for help.

I know that I'll always save you,
reach out a hand,
and squeeze you so tight you can hardly breathe.
I'll always listen when you need me,
hurt when you hurt,
worry when you're silent.

You know me not by name,
but we've spoken once or twice.

I consider you a friend, and I hope you consider me one, too.
I just wish I could tell you how much you mean to me.
I wish you would believe me when I say that you are
loved,
wanted,
needed,
known.
Perfect in all of your flaws.

Some days I talk to you with my head instead of my mouth.
As endless jokes slide between my teeth
I tell you
I wish smiling didn’t come so easy.
I know you slide safety pins into the corners of your lips and through the tops of your cheeks
before walking through my door.
You always reach for me, fingers curling round my own
intertwining
so our fingers look like a tall picket fence standing between us and our palms.
I wonder
do you hold my hand like you would your own,
begging your younger self to stumble away — on foot, because your wings were still too small to fly on —
in any direction that wasn’t towards home
instead of giving her the key
and letting her lock you away
leaving you to batter hopelessly against
the confines of your rib cage,
wings no longer small
but cut
some by her hand,
some by yours held (lovingly) (hatefully) in her own?
I wonder
if your pulse between my fingers
is from your screaming begging tearing heart,
or the sound of you hitting the walls
of your confine time and time again
like a bird hitting a blacked-out window
because it knew it used to be clear.
Once, you let go of my hand
held me in a chokehold
until I tapped out minutes too soon
and I wonder
were your hands itching, hurting, begging
to feel the softness of your throat
the way your fingers would press
into hollows formed by a year’s worth of work
but you couldn’t, you couldn’t
not with your safety-pin smile
so you did the next best thing
and laughed your post-it note laugh
one prepared from hours of late-night YouTube tutorials
that you watched as you drowned in the smell of your home
and you reached for me,
held me in the way she taught you to hold
even as you hated yourself
hated her
hated the her that was yourself,
the yourself that was her and was hers
for listening to the lessons
she recites with her hands.

i missed you yesterday
and the day before
and the day before
when i hadn't seen you for a month.
time was a monster gnawing away
at the walls of its cage between my ribs,
its chains rusting and cracking with wear.
the present was a dreamer's life
of sleep and rest and zoning
because how else could i reach my perfect world
of us?
the past was a landmine,
every moment a missed opportunity
for more time with you.
and the future was repeated images
of when it was finally today,
hugging and seeing and knowing and having.

i missed you earlier
more than i ever had before
when i saw you for the first time in a month.
somehow time had freed itself
and i guess it saved our "us, maybe"
for its main course
because by the time i got to you
i could see in your eyes
that we were already gone.

Buzzing buzzing
Lips curling
Fingers thrumming
There’s nothing in my mind
But that stupid silent humming
Gonna go insane
Without any weight
Above my head
Gonna go insane
Without any thoughts
Inside my brain
Gonna go insane
In a world where there’s 
Nothing inside sanity
But silence

It wasn’t her fault
The sun didn’t rise
In my world
Today.

It wasn’t his fault
That I watched
Her hair create a halo
Around the head of an angel
As she fell.

It wasn’t their fault
That hand in hand,
They left this world
Hoping
The next one
Would be better.

The joy that comes with a pretty spring day
And stopping to smell the roses
Or listen to the birds
Or feel the warmth of the sun caress your skin

The joy of a smile
A laugh
A conversation with someone new
Or friends you’ve known forever

When you cross paths with an old acquaintance
You haven’t seen for a while

The feeling when you see the “A+” on a math test
That you’ve studied for for hours

The laughter you when your pet does something funny
Or a friend
Or a sister
Or a brother.

The happiness you feel when you know you’ve done something right
And can now relax, the burden relieved.

When you help someone
And know that it’s made their life
Or day
A little better,
A little easier.

The feeling when you realize
That maybe even reading a poem
Like this one
Can make you just a little bit happier.

In my dreams
we share
quiet laughter under setting suns,
soft kisses in the moonlight,
and secret smiles as the stars disappear.

Kiss me.
Kiss me softly
as I drown in your honeycomb eyes.
Kiss me slowly
until I forget everything except the feel of your lips on mine.
Kiss me deeply
and let me believe that you truly want me.
Kiss me hard
so that I remember what it feels like to have passion.
Kiss me delicately
until your warmth dries my tears and washes my sorrows away.
Kiss me sweetly
and teach me what it means to love.
Then hold me tight
and never let go.

Living vicariously through others' lives,
but it's still not enough..

Lost is forever
Never to be seen again
Goodbye one last time

Lost boys
Running down the streets
Cutting corners in their haste
To get away from life.

No words
slip from my tongue.
No words
emerge from my fingertips
as they race across the keyboard.
No words
spill from my mind,
trace the recesses of my brain,
leave my lips with the taste of butterscotch.
I have traveled far and wide,
from one pole to the other
then so far west I'm back in the east,
but I still have no words.
No words
to describe this feeling,
the one at the back of my throat every time I speak,
the one tingling at my fingertips whenever I press them against the keys,
the ones zigzagging my mind from dawn to dusk and even after that.
No words
to describe the tightness of my chest,
whether from the way she tucks her hair behind her ear
or the weight of today on my shoulders.
The thoughts --
I chase them, but they always slip away
just as I can feel them in my grasp.
No words, no thoughts, no way
to finish this poem
not when it's ever-flowing, ever-growing, ever-changing, ever-there.

I am a house cat,
Roaring in the lion's wake.

All I have ever
wanted is to have my own
love story... but I
guess even that one thing is
too much to ask, isn't it?

"How are you?"
Bad.
Disappointed.
Upset.
Frustrated.
Angry.
Heartbroken.
D­esperate.
Confused.
Lost.
Anxious.
Numb.
Broken.
Incomplete.
Depr­essed.
"Fine, you? :)"

I ordered a heart
but it came two sizes too small.
I ordered a soul
but it shrunk in the wash.
I ordered a body
but it didn't fit right.
I ordered a life
but it wasn't trendy anymore.
I ordered some love
but I guess it hasn't arrived yet.

You are the wind in my sails,
the only thing that keeps me moving
in this vast ocean of nothingness.

You are my heaviest blanket,
something to hide beneath
when the shadows create monsters on the wall.

You are the rising sun,
reminding me that dawn will come again
even after the darkest of nights.

You are my old, worn teddy bear,
always there when I'm in need of comfort
in a dark and empty house.

You are the dandelion growing in a crack in the sidewalk,
showing me that life can flourish
even in the most desolate times.

You are not my world,
but everything worth living for.

So no, darling. "I love you" doesn't cut it.

Where did it all go?

can i tell you a secret?
some days, when the sky is its darkest hue
and the clouds are a light gray-blue
i write poetry.
it's all about you.

It’s your fault.
Three soft sounds, and yet I cower behind my delusions as they make themselves heard.
It’s your fault.
The words crash around my mind, shattering the translucent lies keeping me sane.
It’s your fault.
They tear through my life, upending my dreams and hollowing out my soul.
It’s your fault.
After enduring so much, all it took were three simple words to break me.

Her hand pulls me toward her,
To the light brightening the darkness
Hidden beneath my eyes.

Under the soft glow of a full moon
We run across yellow fields
Of waving grass
And forgotten memories.

We lay on our backs
Gazing at the worlds above us
Craving their darkness
Almost as much
As each other’s light.

Will I ever be
the main character of my
own story? Or will
I always be stuck on the
sidelines, lost in the dark?