I am alone
Snow drifts to the dead earth
Floating in gentle waves of cold malice
It sweeps across the perished
Seeming to devour us,
Me, my Haven, and the death surrounding us
The wind whispers across my frozen land
Gently caressing my Haven
No longer bringing feeble death to all
As there is no longer the living
This Haven is mine
It protects, shields
But provides no safety
Only I am left, trapped
I am forever here
Forbidden of leaving
I am left here with the perished
The victims of my Haven
Left with nothing
No emotion or other thing
No other being but me
Only emptiness
As they silently fall
My tears freeze
They will forever stay there
Just the as the ripples surrounding me
The frozen earth that was once my home
And has now become my haven
Forever surrounding me
Keeping me for eternity,
Keeping me from myself
Keeping me from pain and happiness alike
This, is my Haven

So, my dear
I have some things I'd like to tell you.
I hope you choke on every word of this poem.

Where to begin?
When I was dying on the inside,
You took advantage of me
Decoded my feelings,
Bullied me all the way to second base
And beyond

How can you be so naïve
That you can convince yourself
That this was my fault?
I guess you've got everyone else fooled, too.

Nobody knows the truth.
Mom thinks I'm jumpy because I'm energetic.
Dad thinks I don't sleep well at night
Because I sleep too late in the morning.
They don't know it is because I feel *****
Because of you.

But who would believe me?
I already lied for you,
Saying you took advantage of me,
But telling them I still said yes willingly
The first time you asked.

If I told and you knew,
You would deny it avidly, saying
"It's not like I ***** you or anything."
And
"It's not like I forced you."

You're right.
I've done my homework.
It's called indecent assault
And coercion.

But I still can't bring myself to call it that,
Or to tell anyone.

So honey, you're pretty **** lucky
That it took me four months to understand
That what you did to me is wrong.

The smell of bacon wafts through the house,

The sun rises in the east, far beyond reach.

The stairs voice their familiar creak,
as I stumble down them, sleepily.

A warm mug of coffee waits for me in the kitchen,

along with a long book to last me the day.

It’s raining outside, really pouring.

I light a fire in the living room,
and curl up,
like a cat on the carpet.

The fire floods me with warmth, and light
,
and I feel a simple sort of happiness.

I gently open the book,
the smell of ancient paper filling me with a sorrowful delight.

Soon, my family will awake,

and fill the house with the hustle and bustle of everyday life.

But for now, I am entranced in another life,

written many years ago.

Hours later, the first one to come down stairs,
is my brother,
wrapped in a fleece blanket,
 sleep filling his eyes.

We go out in the rain,

running for what seems like miles.

Out of breath, and soaked to the bone,

we are standing on a cliff looking down at The Ruins.

The sun shines bright through the clouds,

hovering, beautifully, above an unending ocean.

The rain slows to a drizzle,
we begin to feel the cold sinking in.

No words pass between us,

but we each know what the other is thinking.

He knows he will never feel whole.

I know I will always worry for him.

We know that our worlds will never be perfect.

But in this moment, we at least have hope,

that our worlds will be bearable,

and that is as close to perfect as our lives will ever be.