I have this scent.

Run around in circles.

Come find me.

Seek me out.

Find me.

I await your hunger.

I await your thunder.

I await your dark eyes.

I await your despise.

I have this scent.

For you.

Come see me.

After my father died, you said
you wanted us to stay children.
We both knew that statement didn't apply
to me; I stopped being a child at 13.
I was more mature than my sister
so you didn't mind taking
your problems out on me.
If you were tired or upset
you would blame me for
anything and everything,
and I understood, because of
everything you'd lost.
But you were my mother.
I loved you and I needed you
and you stopped being a parent
the day he died.
I told myself it was harder on you;
you had lost your future, all your
dreams, hopes, plans; all I lost was
yesterday, for I would someday build
a future of my own.
But the truth is, mom, it isn't fair.
It's not fair that my sister can make
mistakes and I can't. It's not fair that
I have to cook; clean; do laundry,
while you complain about your life.
It isn't fair that I was bulimic
for years and you never noticed,
that you always cried out on my shoulders
and let me cry myself to sleep alone.
It is not fair to tell your daughter
that you want to die. I was only
fifteen and I had no father, and I
told myself it was okay but can
I honestly tell myself that now?
I stopped being a child at 13
and I forgave you for everything,
but now I am an adult and I am
lonely and exhausted and you
never seem to really see me,
and I am done
forgiving you;

I learned to forgive
myself
instead.

The sky is like him
I would say he is like the sky
but that would be wrong –
To me, he existed before the sky
And only later did I notice the universe above
Because it resembled the man who held the sun in his hand

Have you ever met someone who was just so
Infinite
That when you tried to see the end of him you thought – maybe
You might shatter into dust
Become part of his endlessness and disappear amongst the rest
Of the rest of his never-ending galaxies existing beyond your comprehension

I reached out to touch this man today
And found him just beyond my reach
So palpable, so there, it burned
I could nearly touch the sun in his fingertips
But he raised his hand, and as the sun rose out of my reach
It floated amongst the clouds

And my world turned dark
He exhaled a frigid wind and blew out my stars
This wind howled and angered the clouds
Who dropped an icy vengeance on the ground beneath my feet
A thousand booming explosions as each shard made contact
With the earth I once knew

That day I thought the sky would fall
But that thought was, of course, foolish – that which is up never comes down
                            The sun burned brighter when it returned, wrapped in
                                                                ­                                       rainbows and promises
But I knew better than to reach out, or to hope.
Just to see was enough – just to know, for the time being,
That he was there

Ever wonder what someone's sadness feels like?
Ever really see that there's a huge difference between theirs and your own?
What you understand as depression, may only be a blue day for another.
I suppose that's why we can't relate to all poetry,
Or truly understand much of it,
To its cold point.

How can we be predispositioned in good,
While surrounded by so much evil?
Call it human nature;
No such thing as corruption,
Instead it's all about purification.
Daily struggles, testing our patience and ability to remain on a steady path.
Each successful decision resulting in a step closer to personal sublimation.

So what if dreams are reality,
And reality is just the dream?
Who's to say life is what it seems,
And that dreams are only mental representations of our inner desires?
Life's a withdrawal and dreams are the drugs that stop it,
Yet equally prolong it.
Then you wake up again.