let's stay up, you and i,
and prattle about the
endless days between us,
about the days we'll have more.
should you wish me well through morning
and hold me with those flames of yours,
for now we'll waltz under moonlight
singing our melancholy song.
but come autumn, see, there
will be no more endless days
and no more staying up
and no more prattling
about the moon, cars, spaceships—
certainly no more time
and no more waiting
and no more waltzing with the stars.
there will be no more hesitating,
and those endless days may
watch us in envy, love, watch us
and weep with those bitter scars.
let's leave the uneasiness behind, love
give me a color to
tell me how i’m feeling.
i’m feeling blue, you?
it’s the blue of a moon
on a white july night
with the ink of the sky
trailing out in zip lines.
give me a color and hey,
why do the streets look
best at four in the morning?
i’d like to climb all the trees
and sing the snow wires
if only i could sing, and
if only i could almost see
because these shades
look like splotches to me.
sometimes we don't know what we're feeling, and that's okay
I've been dreaming lately.
Painting watercolor images on the canvas in my mind
Watching romantic movies on my eyelids
Singing in my sleep.
I dream that I confess everything to you
The way that I feel, what I truly think
And I even place my heart in your hands.
I wake up whispering "I love you".
Sometimes your forehead is resting on mine as I say it
Other times you're walking away...
The scenario continues to change,
But the result is always the same...
I continue to love you.
having depression is a bit like
leading yourself on a leash,
only the leash is really a noose
and the one leading it can’t see.
it’s like suffocating slowly
between your own trembling hands
and a bit like drowning under water
as you whimper and wobble and stand.
it’s like wrapping wounds with cyanide,
and breathing ammonia and mercury;
it’s like dowsing in caustic acid
as you perform your own heart surgery.
depression is like laughing and
stitching tiny sutures into your skin,
but for every step you take, something—
something, **** it—
something tears again.
once again trying to find the right words
see there? yes, there—
behind the mirror—
no, a bit to the left,
well, go up a bit;
it's under the cloak
and you'll see it if you
peel up the corner some.
it's tiny and crumpled,
about the size of a fist
and maybe just as round,
and weighs a fraction
perhaps shy of three tons.
and it's not really heavy
but for the emotions weighing
and sagging and pulling
it all the way down.
it's why it sinks in my pocket,
see, because it's so heavy.
it's why i'm so scared
to give it to you because
for all i know, it'll slip
from your fingers and smash
into the smallest of pieces.
but i'll still give it to you. i happen to be very skilled with elmer's glue.
feels like it's gonna stop raining soon.
the sky will go back to normal:
cornflower blue and birch white,
cloudy bird's-down gray,
that same off-white color that hits me so hard.
i can feel it in my bones but deeper, closer—
a bit inside my chest and sideways,
something resembling my heart
but without the rainy bits.
it feels like flowers in the summer
with the petals stone dry, pressed
and flattened between pages;
feels like the rain has gone away,
run away to where the winds take it.
feels like it'll be another drought
with you gone away, dear,
and i'll hate these clear blue skies.
i actually happen to really hate the sun. anyone else feeling some summer melancholy?