broken homes
turned to houses.

feelings and memories,
buried underneath the deafening silence
of lost love.

no more warm fires
to keep hallways and rooms
full of happiness,
and free of heartache.

no more giggles echoing down halls
and bursting into the empty air of a room
to fill the void with joy.

no more angry shouts
that break the barriers of thin walls.

no more silent tears
that christen the carpeted floors.

nothing.

a home turned house.

wasted to the muted tones of a dead reminiscence.

strong hands and soft green eyes,
i could get lost in the corners of his mind.
he has soft brown locks
that were made for my fingers to comb through
and without him this life would be so very blue.
i was made for him and he for me.
our lives were made to intertwine
like two branches on a tree.

but we’ve met a fork in the road,
so to speak,
and now our love might have reached its peak.
I don’t want to lose,
so which path should we choose?
end it now?
and maybe somewhere down the road we could begin again?
or keep dragging it out?
so that we won’t be able to stand each other by the time we burnout?

my body and thoughts are split into half right in the middle
there is a parallel cut right through my heart, splitting me into two

there is a part of me that wants to survive to see tomorrow,
and then a part of me that is so tired and just needs it to end; now

there is a part of me that wants to prove that recovery is possible,
and then a part of me that says maybe you won't be the one to prove it

there is a part of me that wants to write, and keep writing
and then a part of me that just wants to sleep and never wake up

there is a part of me that wants to get married, have kids and be happy
and then a part of me that says i would slit my wrists and my kids would be traumatized for life

there is a part of me that tries to convince me that tomorrow will be better

but how many times do you have to tell yourself that tomorrow will be better - before tomorrow is actually better?

i am two halves that contemplate between life and death,
and i am not sure i will ever be whole and choose only life;

make this stop.

I

am

blocked.

I

have

lost

the

fire

in

my

soul,

only

embers

left.

burning

orange

as

they

slowly

disappear.

and

I

do not

know

when

the

air

will

return

to

my

lungs

so

that

I

may

burn

brilliantly

again,

spitting

words

into

the

wind

and

finally

feeling

myself

once

more.

Upon their quivering wings,* (Fairy-Land by Edgar Allen Poe)

*small hands grasping too big stems.

little laughter carried on the wind

to beckon you inside.

tall trees fall in, collapsing.

trapped underneath the layers of sea foam green.

breathing in sun dropped laughter,

blindly stumbling through a lilac haze of unsureness.

left to the elements

and lost to the darkness of day time.

jabs left and right prevent the chance,

of wandering in the right direction.

flashes of blue wings and lithe bodies

in front of you,

just out of reach.

and their laughter is drowning you,

slipping into a sleep of the undead but not quite living.

fighting the drowsiness with the only source of strength left,

golden sun slipping through the cracks.

surfacing from the depths of insanity,

their laughter tumbling from your lungs,

able to breath again.

Maybe she wanted to die with white flowers,
clutched in her hands as the world stopped..
Lost in the field of broken glass,
she had his world in her grasp.
tossing and turning,
so she sparkled with deadly glass spikes,
coated in a syrupy red.
the flowers still pristine white
and her mind lost among the lights.
his tears chased her far away,
to the end of the earth where she stayed.
Teetering between
death and life.
he wanted to end her strife.
so he gave her the flowers
to take her away
to a place where she could be safe.
but she fell off the edge
into the sea of glass,
with those white flowers clasped in her tight grasp.

Walking into that building, I shouldn’t be feeling this way.

It contains the things that push my demons to screaming.

I shrink into my shell when I should be thriving,
but the people that are supposed to lift me up, just put me down.

All the tests and the stress that is caused,
are not worth the scratches on my arms.

and I can’t wait to leave this place that I’m in
because if I don’t focus on that,
I won’t make it to the end.  

And the peers that are supposed to be my friends,
can’t see past the fake smiles that crack my face in two,
as they joke about death,
when it’s not ever funny
because it’s always on my mind from my demons getting through.

And my insanity has the wheel,
as I careen through my life,
inadequate as a butter knife to diamonds.

and I can’t stand it here anymore,
I think it’s time I shut the door,
leave no trace behind
to disappear into the night.

High off the feeling of always being alone,
and I can’t wait to escape this throne-oriented arctic zone.

There are millions like me.

who can’t think about that place without shivers running down their spines,
and you need to save them from the confines of their minds.

because their demons will **** them,
if they aren’t silenced.

and you can’t just leave them to fight society.

because they are the ones that live in a fantasy,
sleeping with silent tear stained faces.

don’t let them dissolve like empty embraces.

Walking into that building, we shouldn’t ever feel that way.