I don’t care if you did arrive
In a gray palace of clouds
Or if your bartender
Is lightning and your house band
Only accepts thunder claps
As applause
I’m not one of those
Cliché poets
Chanting your name
To play one more song
Believe me, I’ll be happy
When you’re gone

I have a problem.
It's you.

you can’t tell me i’m not forgotten until you’ve been the kid that parents never talk to.
you can’t tell me i’m not unloved until you’ve been the grandchild that grandparents never travel for.
you can’t tell me i’m not ugly until you’ve been the girl always scrutinized for her weight, hair, skin, and everything in between.

you can’t because you are remembered
you are loved
you are beautiful
      breathtaking
      gorgeous
      lovely
impeccably striking in every way, shape, and form.

you can’t say you’re forgotten
you can’t say you’re unloved
you can’t say you’re ugly
you can’t
i can

I want to be
Okay
But it's just
So
Hard.

I tried writing you a letter the first of May but my heart shot my hand with a silver bullet.

I tried dancing in your dreams but the sunrise stole you away.

I poisoned your cup with my tears but in your smile they dissolved.

I tried walking into your presence but my head crippled this body.

I tried.
To stop.
Trying.

Now how do I nurse these wounds?