sometimes
i feel angry
simply plainly
contempt for
assumptive people
greed
jealousy
a lack of empathy
i, too,
struggle
but this is
fist against the pillow
swallowing brick-shaped tears
eyes burning
i forgot to
blink
contorted face
a lemon of
a realization
i am trapped
wholly really
unless i choose
to remove myself
from
the equation
i can't
i can't do that
i have so many
more lives to lead
words to cherish
esteems to encompass
and so
i cry
because remaining
willfully ensnared
aches
nonstop

When you first look her in the eyes and admire the way they shine in the moonlight,
look deeper than the iris and drown in her pupil
as it is dark and it is deep, and it is similar to that of the Marianas trench itself.
When you get deep inside her brain, you will see the monsters that man cannot at first glance.
It gets so somber that your heart will get heavy and your palms will sweat,
you will repeatedly want to turn and you will want to run away,
but don’t.
Because these thoughts are not demons after you,
they are attacking her relentlessly and while she does not need a hero,
a helping hand won’t hurt.
She is not helpless, but she is also not safe
and she is afraid, and she is hiding from them.
So when she flinches away from your touch,
be gentle.
Like the breeze she feels when she opens her window on a late August night to feel something other than the stillness of her room
and to remind herself she is not just imagining her existence.
Remember that she has been through her share of nightmares like you, and while some may not be as bad, they are incredibly real to her.
Remember that she needs someone to love just as much as you.
Do not think this is a demand you love her when she has no one else,
just open your mind and your heart because that skinny girl with tired eyes is one of the most beautiful you’ll ever meet
and you will remember her for years to come.
Please, be gentle for she is fragile.
She is cracked, but has been dropped and broken so many times, the pain is not as bad,
the hurt is not such a surprise.
Do not let her be surprised if you stay when she expects you to go, because she will,
she will assume, she will get weak and she will picture you leaving when she needs you most
or she will try to push you away,
but remember her smile and remember her face because every actress is told they have so much to love but that does not mean they are all in bliss.
You’re the polish on her scuffed up shoes,
you’re the sun peeking through her blinds on a cool summer morning,
you’re the reminder that it will all be okay,
So long as you don’t run.
When you meet a girl
with shaky hands and a faint heart,
remember that she can get stronger again.
You are not her crutches, but you are support.
Do not think her life depends on you, because it doesn't.
Never put that on yourself.
You are not a superhero, but you can be her helping hand
If you remember
that it’s alright to stay.

I’m scared, too.

Or if the morning doesn't come
by the time you find home
I'll paint white doves by your feet
to take care of your bones,

so that if you can't open your eyes
by the time I come around
I'll lay in your grave, meet the gray ocean and
let you be

and then
maybe
you'll get to know peace,

and the wind will tell me it's okay for you to leave.

there is a place called violet beginnings
beneath the shoulders blades
i breathed upon -- weavings of honey, lavender,
and soil -- gripping my expectations of life like reins;
watery half globes form from my thought of absence
and the feeling of my legs sprinting
through dandelion sweeps
and wind caresses. there is a way
to abandon these memories, to strip yourself
of any lost feeling, a coined exchange
for the desire to find something easier to stomach.
there is a way to render yourself motionless; i
am looking for the ignition.

teetering on the edge
of empathy and indifference
i attempt to cradle
my concept of humankind, giving it
sips of water and bites of fruit -- i
want to believe
we are all
more capable than we seem;
our output needs to surpass our ambition
to "do good", for practice
will surely steer
a gilded
and inevitable (im)perfection.

breathing in the cooled and speckled air, evaporating into the trees above my head - maybe my reality is really my heaven; maybe i'm thousands of light years from myself; maybe i'm here all at once.