The damage a storm can do
isn't even close to how I felt after you

Loving you is like watching my own blood run down my arms and screaming 'it doesn't hurt'

I am sorry that you wished for spring and
ended up with summer. How I only feel
bones and not the warmth you desperately
want to show me. That at night you pray
for my peace but come morning I am only
a marionette that resembles the fading ember
of father's cigarettes. How I cannot bear to step
out of this house; the ghosts will devour
me if I do, both inside and out. The skin
upon my soul cracks and cracks; like the
pavement you fell in when you broke your
feet. The time you told me to feel less, to stop
blaming myself; I am sorry for that too, that
I have tried and I cannot. Perhaps one day I
will manage to breathe without choking on
all the silences I cannot word, perhaps one
day I will be able to sleep without death on
the precipice. I am sorry I am the moon and
not the sun for you, that my sister radiates
light and I only reflect it. I have half your mind
and the full sum of your smile, but if only my
voice would remain as calm as yours when you
deal with misery, maybe I would finally learn to
be okay.

(A.H.Z)

It's good to see that
nothing has changed.
If only I could talk to you
without feeling like
it could be a life or death
decision.

My loyalty seems to run too deep
Unfortunately for the wrong people.
But, my loyalty is so pure and innocent
That we could be fighting
Over the same problem for weeks
Or maybe months and honey,
I would still stay by your side.

The heart can think of no devotion
Greater than being shore to the ocean—
Holding the curve of one position,
Counting an endless repetition.

I cannot eat without a friend
and I haven't showered in days.
That is why I write, I guess.

I do not brush my teeth anymore but
when we were staying over
I brushed them two times a day.
That is how I write;
so human.

My tongue tastes stale and my scalp
feels like a bathroom rug.
I've never listened to music this much before.
I did not like sounds. Still don't.
I hope my ears would bleed so I could write about it.

Oh I only can write;
so human.

I do not read. Do not speak nor hear.
That is why I write.

There were days when I could not write.
There will be more.
More. More. I hope it's not today.

I only can write!

are
insignificant
pale and empty
they shake over
the smallest task
ink stained palms
black and white

Your hands
are steady
scarred but strong
and when they clasp mine
I feel capable
of anything