they say to be in love
you must first love yourself
as for me I disagree
because I have met body upon body
that I've fallen in love with
just by looking in to their eyes
while somehow hating mine
waging war upon myself
all while finding refugee and comfort
in a body, in any body or anybody
who smiled in my direction
who held the door open
who said, 'i'm worried about you' or
'text me when you get home safely' or
'well you were asking for it'.

and isn't love beautiful?
the way it creeps up your spine
tickles the back of your neck
curls around and tightens so slowly
that you don't realize the suffocation
until you're already blue in the face?
using your first gasping breath to declare
how romantic it was to be so close to it

love can be found anywhere
like a dim light in the darkest room or
the  haunting face of danger in those nightmares
that have plagued you since you were sixteen
when you had your heart broken
for the first time and you cried
but then the second, the third
you learned to smile

mistaking the scar tissue for satisfaction
for justification of your hurt
'well at least i could say i tried'
and god knows you tried
to fill that aching, hollow chest of need
with words synonymous with love
in the dictionary of your excuses
re-arranged to make anything
fit the definition of everything
that 4 letter word should be
just so you can convince yourself
battle with your own beating chest
was never in vain.

-- they do not love you.

I still look for you
at the grocery store.
I still search the cars
at gas stations.
I still hope that we will
bump into each other
at the movies
or in a restaurant.  

I hope,
and I wish,
and I imagine.
I play it over
and over,
again and
again.

But every time
I make it back to my car,
I realize you are still
so far away,
and I will just have to
visit you
in my dreams.

m.e.

Each tear that I drop
In my misery, reminds me
of the lost of my Mother.
Making me feel even more
miserable than I could ever be...

What gives them the right to say
everything will be okay?
When in fact,
years and years have passed
with my emotions masked.
I struggle through each day
without the strength to say,
I hate the useless fights.
I cry myself to sleep each night.

I've mastered the art of silent tears.
Each night. Each month. Each year.
My family tries to understand my emotions,
claims they've been in this same motion
but, oh, how could they have been?

I watch from the outside,
continuously struggling to get inside.
I watch the family of four,
though only from the door.
And ask myself,
Where am I in this mix?
It's simple. I merely don't exist.

But it didn't start off this way. No.
When exactly did I go?
My soul is trampled on.
My heart seams simply gone.

I watch as my siblings change,
growing each and every day,
and here I am staying precisely the same.

They say I'm afraid to develop.
When in fact, I've simply given up.
They say each day is a token.
Then why does it just leave me broken?
When I try to explain,
they say don't complain.
But they just don't see,
It's not my surroundings that make me unhappy.
It's simply what's inside of me.
Which happens to be nothing.

So now I will ask,
When will this pass?
Another day. Another month. Another year.
How long must I continue with these silent tears?