Is it okay to feel afraid?
Because i
*am ******* terrified

Sitting across from you I see forever in your eyes

Dear Drift Compatible,

You are my best friend. We do not talk every day, but we do not have to. You are kind, and good, and loving. You are my best friend, and sometimes more like a mom, and I love you for that.

When I was broken up with on your porch and ever so suddenly homeless once more, you let me keep some of my stuff with you while I was in the hospital.

You offered me a place with you wherever you are if I ever need it, and that is the kindest, most beautiful thing someone has ever done for me. If I could compare you to a summer's day, I probably wouldn't. They're humid and gross and sticky, things we hate. Winter wouldn't work either, too cold and your heart is too kind and warm.

Maybe early Fall. We'll look back into it.

Thank you for being the Spock to my Kirk ('cause you make sense and I'm an emotional mess but we're both pretty smart), the Riza Hawkeye to my Roy Mustang without the weird ****** tension, and  the Fireheart to Graystripe because everyone knows you're the logical Fireheart and I'm the poor-decision making Graystripe. You are the Levy to my Lucy ('Cause Fairytail had to be mentioned).

Forever your adopted child,
Who needs glass when we have anime and cats?

For my 2016 writing project, I’ve decided to write a single line of poetry every day for an entire year. Below, is June’s poem. Enjoy!


A crack runs through the windshield.

This is how life goes.

Perhaps, a metaphor for something bigger.



We move down the road;

Drinking in the scenery like quiet passengers.

Our view is obstructed though.



A crack runs through the windshield.

A tear cuts across me too.

Perhaps, neither shall be repaired.



Travel provides life lessons.

These vistas seen at 70 MPH matter.

Who is sitting next to you matters more.



A crack runs through the windshield.

No break found in the rearview;

Future and past boldly symbolic.



I grab his hand.

In the safety of this car, there is no one to judge.

Our love is left alone.



A crack runs through the windshield.

I don’t belong to this fate.

This wasn’t meant to be my life.



The highway won’t claim me.

It will set me free.

Unbound, hovering over yellow stripes.



A crack runs through the windshield.

We are defined by the optical illusion.

Things could be worse.



We are finally free.

He will forever be mine.

Cracks can be repaired.

I'm going insane
I'm going mad
But I would be lying if I said
My life hasn't always been this bad

I formed anomalies in my head
When I alone
Tucked myself into my bed
And thought about how different life would be

If
He
Hadn't
Have
Left
Me

Out in the cold, out to fold into a ball of never ending contradictions,

Like when I tell the people I call my friends to remember their worth.

Because I often forget that 54 pills or the seams broken at my wrist could take myself away from here,

And sometimes it feels like that's the the only choice I'm allowed to make.

And sometimes, the only thing that's stopping me is the fragile thread of belief.

So what happens when I lose that, too?