On dark nights I lie in bed in hopes of a sleep
that will appease the uncertainties of my brain,
but somehow it rarely approaches.

Just close my eyes to what my world has become
and place me somewhere I recognize again.
Bury my feet in the sand, and let me dig
each crevice of my toes into the grainy earth,
sifting and scraping away the dead pieces.
I pray that when I open my eyes, I’ll once again
be surrounded by those I call my friends,
but I imagine that when lashes meet lid,
there’s no one in the distance.
A beach’s waves sing me a lullaby
each time they greet the shore,
and I’m comforted by the realization
that this is where I always felt f   r   e   e.

Slowly I lower myself to the ground
and find a comfortable home against the shoreline.
My fingers find their way through the grains,
and as if they have a mind of their own,
their voice bellowing in the subtle path they form.
Before I know it, I am reading the words
“I love you”
in the sand.

An eager wave washes the letters away
and a piece of myself with it.
Relentlessly, they trace the earth again,
and the sanding of my skin cells stings sweetly,
and before the sensation grows painful,
“I am loved”
appears below.

Yet once again, as the sun begins setting,
the ocean grazes the shore in a soft embrace,
this time leaving traces of my work
but stabbing me nonetheless.
One more time I actively and purposefully
etch a last sentence into the granules,
because I believe with (almost) every part of my soul
that it must be a legitimate reality,
that I don’t wonder if I lie to myself
or if it’s just a rare moment when my old pal
Depression
comes creeping back to spread fabrications,
and I shove my finger so deep into the earth
I swear it will be covered in blood when I’m done,
but I have to believe in every syllable of the phrase
I wear over, around, and within my heart,
because if don’t,
I lose myself completely.

“I am happy.”

I.
Am.
Happy.

The salt may wash these words away,
but I’ll be ****** if they take me with it.

Just open my eyes to what my world has become.
Awake, I still find myself dreaming.

We met.
You comforted.
We loved.
We breathed.
We broke.
I lived.

There were days
when the ice in her pupils
would burn their victim
to a mess of frostbitten limbs
among flurries of captivity
and twirling, black masks
of hatred and woe.
There were days
when her throat seemed forever blocked
by the boulder heart that arose
to choke the breath that she wished,
when she woke each morning,
would shallow itself
until frozen in time.
There were days
when the humdrum drone
of life surrounding her,
dialogues of laughter
and dances of camaraderie,
only tipped her sideways
until emptiness set itself
deep within the chaos she harbored beneath
camouflaged skin
that was cold to touch.

Take us on a journey
through the rocky rivers that will lead us
to the mind that awakened one day,
melting those eyes
into tributaries of courage.
The aroma of rain is on the horizon.
Let it wash us away into the ocean
that splashes against the beach
where her feet tread sand,
where a breeze greets
the palm trees in the distance
and finds its way through each strand of her hair
while her eyes close in remembrance of the moment.
Freedom is just past the vantage point.
Watch as she delicately forms fists in preparation
for its fight,
and hope unburies its sanctuary inside her lungs.
The bitter taste on her twisted tongue
will soon be swallowed
in sovereignty.

There’s a world
outside my window
whose breath is made of ice.

There’s a universe
in my chest
that could turn this place to summer
from the fire that’s created
when your skin collides with mine.