it's crazy how someone so angry and confused and depressed
can turn all of that around for themselves,
but in the process,
make everyone around them carry the weight they just shed
from that point on
i wish you'd given some of it to me
even if you gave me all of it,
i know i'd be able to handle it,
but you wouldn't let me see
i want to scream until my throat bleeds
i want to cry until i fall asleep,
but only for every time you had to alone
your oversized heart was my home

never before have i been woken up by my anxiety
never before have i known a sadness so deep
never before could i have imagined this feeling
or the fact that once it hits, it takes the rest of your life to melt away
why couldn't i tell you how special you were to me?
why couldn't i ******* pick up the phone on 4/20?
you're right, i'm nothing,
and you were something i could always count on,
but never took advantage of
someone everyone could depend on if they needed to
you were always there and that's why i couldn't see you
i grew used to your distance and your constant pain
just like i've grown used to my own,
but i didn't know you had grown fed up,
filled with anger and trauma
from those who should have loved you most
there are so many things that were sacred to me
that i can no longer enjoy
and you're at the top of that list

Every year now, I note the differences:
the changes in the stones,
the retreating car park and what
is new to the waves.
It is slight. You try to hide it by
presenting the same places and
lacing them with memories that
all correspond.
But you are changing.
You take new beatings, and I can't
help but wonder if we are alike.
The process of erosion has caught
us both, and year by year,
cliff by cliff, it's wearing us down.

It was always supposed to happen,
but what if you change too much?
What will happen when you change
irreparably, irreconcilably?
Even now you are only an
imaginary home, so defamiliarized
from the dream I demand.
I know you promised me nothing.
But I had a deal you didn't know about
and you've ceased to make me happy.
I can't help but be a little angry
with you for letting the
storm break you down.

But is it really you, or is it me
who has done the changing?
Is it not my eyes and my erosion?
Is it not the attrition and abrasion
and the long shore drift
that has welled up inside my own soul?
Is it you or I?
How can we know?

You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone forever.

Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. There are days when I can hear my bones straining under the weight of despair, this madness that erupts like an earthquake when I feel you lost. This heart dies a slow death, shedding each hope like leaves until there are none. It is a mortal danger, perhaps not to life in a strict sense but mortal still, for I know very well my soul would harden and never be the same if I lose you.

But think not for a minute this is despair's babble, even in my seldom moments of calm and lucidness and peace I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than ever mine or someone else's. I want to deserve you, for I have to love you E, I have to love you. It matters not this wound that burns like two, it matters not that I search for you and I do not find you, even as the nights go by and I do not have you.

If the dull substance of my flesh were thought,
Injurious distance should not stop my way;
For then despite of space I would be brought,
From limits far remote, where thou dost stay.
No matter then although my foot did stand
Upon the farthest earth removed from thee;
For nimble thought can jump both sea and land
As soon as think the place where he would be.
But, ah, thought kills me that I am not thought,
To leap large lengths of miles when thou art gone,
But that, so much of earth and water wrought,
I must attend time’s leisure with my moan,
    Receiving nought by elements so slow,
    But heavy tears, badges of either’s woe.