Something funny I’ve noticed is that when people are honestly just sad about something they tend to use hyperbole and end up saying things like, “I’m so depressed!”

…and what’s strange is that when people are honestly very depressed they also tend to use hyperbole and end up saying things like, “I’m sad.”

Inside this fractured head of mine
I find no solace, only time
But time makes waste and waste makes rhyme
So hastily I'll say, "I'm fine"

Inside this broken head I hold
No secrets, words adorned in gold
The wind blows through, so brash and bold,
This desolate world etched in cold

Inside this splitting skull, you see
There are no demons, only me
The epitaph reads, "set me free"
I wait for you, here, patiently

I snuck into your room last night
You always leave the doors unlocked and those lights aren’t fooling anyone
The floorboards creaked with cloudy memories and I feared I’d wake you
But your mind was buried so deeply in darkness the sky could not stir you

I laid with you in silence last night
Your bones whimpered and rattled like the bitter cold wind against the windows
The ice must have certainly entered through those tiny cracks in the glass, in your shell
Crystals fell softly from the ceiling and landed upon your cheeks

I took myself away from you last night
Peeled back your eyelids gently and wiped out the cloudiness I’d left there
Soft cotton picked up the old traces left on your skin, your fingertips; under your nails
Your mouth I traced with honey and perfumes; I placed young crickets under your pillow

I left you last night
Though you walked me to the door and watched me drive away, you never once saw me
You must have been dreaming that I was merely visiting; a guest, unaware
Blind to the mirror you dressed yourself in, and adorned in the “all along”

You always were a light sleeper.

if every time i thought of you
i only shed one tear
i'd have myself an ocean
swimming, wishing you were here

if every time i thought of you
one tear was all i shed
i'd have myself an ocean
drowning, wishing i were dead

The hardest thing I've ever done
is try to convince myself you're not the one
while we continue to go on as friends
knowing we'll never have what we once did, again.

I’m stuck somewhere between your head and your heart
caught in the back of your throat
always on the back of your tongue
and I’ve marked my name and days here in my prison
in the soft tissue around me
I’m sure it will scar, at least a little
my feet are burned from your reflux
and I have lost the strength to climb, to fight
you will not swallow me or spit me out
you just keep me here pressed up against the wall
your voice moves through me, shakes me
I catch a glimpse of the back of your lips
and the memories of when you kept me there, gently, between them
overwhelm me; I long to be back there
back before you gobbled me up
and my grief upon your breath is a breath of strength for me
I’m sure it is my last

I’m stuck somewhere between your head and your heart
caught in the back of your throat
and there are two ways I can go
but I do not want to live in your head anymore
although you know I love the view from out your eyes
but it is far too lonely to live as just a thought
in the magnificent gallery that is your mind
and I am afraid that your heart will read ‘no vacancy’
or that I cannot afford the rent
or that I will grow weak inside the muscle
when it beats me down again
and I will no longer have the strength to climb back up
as I make the drop as the knife makes the plunge
down to your stomach
to be digested
alongside this morning’s coffee
and I fear the caffeine will stay in your system much longer than I will