when i write
i am reaching out for you
(to you)
the belief (hope) that you are out there
that i have seen you
and you have seen
me
there is a longing here
and i have no words for it
and most days,
i can ignore it
but some days
there are no poems
there is only the fire
the longing left behind
the fingerprints of wind on my face
maybe one day
the longing
will move into someone else’s heart
put a ‘for sale’ sign in mine

of one thing
i am sure
and that is
that i am
unsure of
myself
and it’s funny
how i can’t
sleep but my
chest closes its
eyes and hums
with a heartbeat
that is unsure of
itself, too.
i try to morph
into a body
i don’t feel
belongs to me
just so i can
fit somewhere
fit in somewhere
and i tell so
many stories
about the
universe, it
forever feels
like i am trying
to remain lost.
i am unsure
of myself;
connecting the
moles on my
skin as if they
will spell out
something bigger
so i can feel
like i matter,
at least for
a little while.
i sleep beside
myself, stare at
a reflection
so unfamiliar
i couldn’t even
identify it in
a crowd of
strangers, but
i am trying.
and one day
i’m sure i’ll
be sure
of myself but
until then,
i’ll morph into
someone i can
be proud of
and hope that
the universe
sends me back
to myself.

My heart jumped into my throat
And my stomach lurched
My lungs dissolve into dust

Cryptically typing a hurried thought
That defied every response

I look in the mirror and no one stares back
I see him in things that I do
When they see me, when they discover
I promise, I hate me too.

i am in a haze today. it is cloudy and beautiful outside. it is also pressing down on my chest and i struggle for air. i wore your shirt to bed last night and it helped steady my oxygen supply. i wish you were here to say my name and speak to me in my native tongue to remind who i am and where i've come from. i'm forgetting everything, slowly. recreating yourself is only good when you haven't done it five thousand times over. i just want to be me now. but how do i become me if there is no you? pick me up from the library and walk me to class. hold my hand and tell me that you will stay with me no matter how grey the sky is or how cold my fingers feel.

If you are a suicide survivor
Inbox me your name
And I’ll add it to my tattoos of others

You guys mean the world to me
And I have my own name on my arm
Because I too, am a suicide survivor.

i don't know how to tell you i love you.
but i do; believe me, i do.
with all of my heart, and all of my soul.
here i present the essence of myself.
welcome, to every fiber of my being.

i know you'll never trust me,
but believe the words that
fall off my lips like the
tears that lingered on my cheeks
when my feelings were unreciprocated.

and believe me, because in the matter
of love and human emotion, a false
i love you is worse than scorned
romance, because at least love turned bad
was pure at one point.

and i try; or lord, i try.
but the world stages blocks in
the path that leads to the end.
and sometimes, it's harder to push past
without hurting yourself in the end.

and here i sit: this room in which
i have both everything and nothing, and
i don't know which one i have lost.