A few paces away,
Through the pasty blue door,
I can hear it,
The tune,
A beat,
The music.
Funny how something I admire most
Is precisely what brought the downfall.
And as I listen, the suppression subsides,
The memories rise,
Your breath on my cheek.
Quell it.
Content when I lock and bury
The precious box of treasure.

Look through me
To whatever insignificance lies behind me.
See through my scarred up flesh
Like my organs disappear.
Come to me
With your drunken, lonely, usually hidden stupor.
Cry to me on the phone
Until sober reappears.

Wave to me
Like an acquaintance.
Hug me
Like a friend.
Confide in me,
But no one else.
Then into this chair
I blend.
Kiss me
Like you mean it.
Touch me
Like you care.
But don’t forget
To see through me
When I’m still
Standing there.

What is it you want from me?
What is it you plead?
‘Cause all I’ve ask is honest answers,
Yet still you do not heed.

Am I here or not?
Do I live and breathe?
Do you only use me at your will?

Who are we – What?
Make up your mind, boy,
Shortened patience, no time to ****.

A mother’s love
Is cleaning the scrape on her knee
When she’s fallen off her bike.

A mother’s love
Is watching Tarzan
Eight days in a row
Without complaining.

A mother’s love
Is taking her to dance class
Four days a week
Year after lengthy year.

A mother’s love
Is saying “I love you”
Every night before she falls asleep
For twenty years and counting.

A mother’s love
Is holding her in her arms
(As a grown eighteen-year-old)
While her broken heart bleeds down her face.

A mother’s love
Is saying “I don’t know, but I’m here for you”
When all she asks is “Why?”
Over and over endlessly.

A mother’s love
Is the song played on repeat
As they sing at the top of their lungs
During every long car ride.


And a daughter’s love
Is being able to see,
Able to accept,
And thankful for the fact
That she can honestly call her mom
One of her best and most supportive friends.

I am a delicate flower in the midst of fiery winter.
I am the gust of wind that brushes through the trees.
I am a cold burst of water that chills you to the bone.
I am the solid brick wall which beyond no one sees.

I am stuck up, I am humble.
I am weak, I am strong.
I am timid, I’m outgoing.
I’m veracious, I am wrong.

And though I can’t undo the shadows of a shallow heart,
And though I can’t reveal a window to the deepest sea,
And though I don’t know where we are or how the rain should fall,
The roses either bloom with life or wash away the tree.

If forgiveness isn’t in the cards,
The quiet stillness reigns.
I’ll always know the deep desires
Of this messed up game.

*I forfeit,
For I am better than this.

It doesn’t come on a horse-drawn carriage.
It doesn’t come as tall, dark, and handsome.
It doesn’t come with a prince’s crown.
It doesn’t come with magic fairy dust.

Forget the chick flicks.
Forget the old school fairy tales.
Forget the Nicholas Sparks novels.
Forget playing M.A.S.H. when you were six years old.

I’m not sure how it works
(Because, trust me, I wish I did).
But this culture has brainwashed our intelligent minds
To writhing pulps obsessed with “love.”
You do not love.
You love to love. And there is a great difference, my dears.
For when you truly love, you don’t feel it.
You do it.

And whoever told you that:
“Immature love says, ‘I love you because I need you.”
Mature love says 'I need you because I love you.’”
…
Well, they have foolishly blundered.
For you don’t “need” to be in love.
Mature love should say, “I love you because I love you,
And I have no explanation for why that is,
But I will always choose to do right by you.”

I don’t have the answer,
So I don’t ask the question.
But I’m not silly enough to believe what the world screams at me.

You think I don't know
what it's like to hate someone
but miss them with everything inside of you
and realize that you don't actually hate them at all?
You think I don't understand the concept
of a contradicted soul?
But, you see,
the difference between me and you
is that the person I miss is worth so much more
than I think he'll ever understand,
and, if I had to,
I'd spend the rest of my life convincing him so.
But that will never happen,
since I'm not really here.

There is a stillness
in the absence of the television’s
jarring advertisements,
lethal dramas,
and fast paced sitcoms
just gnawing away at what little time we have here.
The last hour has been a week
of the relaxation I pursue daily.
Stuck in a world where the constant
is a sprint on a treadmill,
meaningless because I’m moving nowhere,
as others move about a steady change of scenery,
I am beginning to feel hopeless.
Will I get to climb my mountain?
Will I get to trip and skin my knees on the rugged earth?
Will I get to lay on a cliff,
enamored with a view I never thought was meant for me?
Will I feel pain?
Will I feel triumph?
Will I simply get to feel?

These years are getting old.
This faith is turning cold,
fickleness growing bold.

You see my thoughts as I do.
And before I get a chance to shout them to the world,
there you are, beating my declaration,
claiming your own.

Your eyes see right through me,
to the brick lain so heavily in cement.
Your breath is a tornado.
Your gaze is its storm.

Just as I’m beginning to think I have some grip on this world,
that I can make a difference,
that my life is a significant, precious jewel
so rare that even the richest of men wouldn’t waste me…
I see you again.
And I see a man so in tune with his talents,
yet so lost in them.
And everything else.

Stop reading my mind.
Stop understanding me.
Stop knowing me.

Because you don’t know me.
I convince myself of this over and over
until the words in my brain are moving so fast
that even I get dizzy
and must rest my weary eyes
‘til the morning sun evaporates every leftover
drop of dew that may have tainted my soil.

Until the clouds come again, my friend,
I have conquered my soul.

Are you really living
If you're just surviving?
Is it really worth it?

There is nothing I would love more
Than to say that I'm done with this charade,
I'm done with this wall.
Tear it down.

Every day brings the urge,
But no day brings the courage
For fear you do not feel the same.

So I stay here searching...

Everything has changed.
Nothing has changed.

Today
I tried to run from my thoughts –
Literally –
As I have done many times before,
And never have I been able to succeed,
For I’ve learned we cannot outrun what lies within us.
This merely leaves us gasping for air –
Physically and emotionally.
Yet, that still does not stop us from trying.
Silly little souls are we
To choose the numb instead of the sentiment,
But sometimes…
It’s just better that way…
Until we are brave enough to change it.

Someday
I’ll be brave enough to change it.

In that moment she realized they are nothing.
In that moment she realized he doesn't love her, and he doesn't want to.
In that moment she realized she roams outside his walls.
In that moment she realized she's built her own.

Sometimes, we build walls because we don't want to let people in.
The risk of pain is too much to handle.
Sometimes, we build walls because we want to see
Who will work to break them down.
And sometimes, we build walls because we want to prove to ourselves
Who we desire to break them down.
And when that person fails to do so,
We find ourselves surrounded by loneliness and despair,
Pasting a plastic smile on our face,
And we have no choice but to drown ourselves in pain,
Because finding our way back would mean we have to feel anything but numb.

And in that moment, she realized she's still naive enough to continue holding on.

In all my years here,
I will not remember what's on page five of my notes
for that one class I took last semester
or the one before,
but rather the lessons I've learned along the way.
This,
I would say,
is what I have learned in college.
This,
I would say,
matters:

Live your life.
Don't let others live it for you.
Act your age.
Mind your own business.
Be there for the people who care.
Be there for the people who don't.
Be independent.
Get over yourself.
Love.
Let yourself be loved.
Be honest.
Hold on.
Let go.
Change things.
Accept things.
Break things.
Fix things.
Win.
Lose.
Cry.
Laugh.
Mess up.
Step up.
Be better.
And whatever you do, don't let someone else take the best of you away,
And if you do,
forgive them,
but mostly,
forgive yourself.

I laugh
when my truth
is twisted
to lunacy,
because
what else
is left
to do?

The mirror displays only the imperfections,
The aspects, the qualities I long to change.
The struggle never left me.
I used to think I conquered,
But deep down… I knew.
And it now haunts me the same way it did years ago.
A tear falls to the floor.
The sounds of disapproving mutters echo down the hallway.
This distorted image won’t change
Regardless of what truth tells me.
Nothing you do will alter the fact,
Because I think nothing of it,
Treat it as normalcy.
This is my reality,
My life,
My struggle,
My insecurity.
A battle with the mirror,
The countless flaws it reveals,
A never-ending war,
And neither of us wins,
But neither of us forfeits.
Why do I let this happen?
I must be perfect.
I will not settle for anything less.
But my worst enemy is not the mirror.
It is myself.

Did I miss something here?
Did I misunderstand?
Was the sound of my presence too high pitched for your ears?
Did I squeeze too hard when embracing your face?
Was the glimmer in my eye too bright for your retina?
Did my hands form blades as they ran down your back?
Was my love a slap across your perfectly structured cheek?
Did my legs turn to sand paper as they intertwined with yours?
Did they slowly gnaw away at your caged in comfort zone?
Was there poison on my lips?
Was it a slow, steady venom?
Did it drip to my chin?
Did you taste it in my kiss?
Did it sting when I accepted everything you are?

Hand me that dagger.
Let me pierce your pulsing heart.
It’d make a lot more sense.
You could easily write me off
with all of the rest.

Burn me.

For three or four minutes
I feel again.

For three or four minutes
The anger subsides.

For three or four minutes
I believe once more.

For three or four minutes
A melody
Or lyric
Brings comfort.

For three or for minutes
Everything is okay.

For three or four minutes
I am understood.

For three or four minutes,
I am not alone.

This is music.
This is power.
All I am
In three or four minutes.

I'm sick of hearing,
"You deserve better."
Because clearly that doesn't matter to me.

I'm sick of hearing,
"Everything happens for a reason."
Because, no, things just happen,
And order is made from it.

I'm sick of hearing,
"I have someone for you."
What makes you think I want someone?

I'm sick of hearing,
"You'll find the right person."
Because what makes you think I'm looking?

I'm sick of hearing,
"I want to be close."
Because so do I,
But we don't change that.

I'm sick of hearing,
"(Insert lie here)."
Because the lies are always invisible
Like me.

I'm sick of hearing,
"You don't need me."
Because you're right, I don't.
But I still want you here.

And I'm still so sick of
"You deserve better."
Because some people are always worth the pain.

Just because you stop planning to do something
Doesn’t mean every part of you stops wanting it.
As I lie here and let my skin sink into the cold concrete,
I think of how this is where I wished to end.
And I turn over to my knees and begin to pray
For anything,
Everything,
That if there is a god out there,
Will he please hear me?
Because I don’t know if I believe anymore.
And all I want is some kind of sign,
But I don’t ask for one,
Because I know the definition of faith.
In actuality, all I wanted was the truth.
But, you see, though the truth is absolute,
It is also obsolete.
It is avoided at all cost.
And, though you can’t lie it away,
You all attempt to.

I almost killed myself.
I almost ******* killed myself, even though I didn’t want to die.
I just wanted the pain to stop.
And you…
You laid there in my bed and pulled me close,
Held my hand and told me you care,
Told me you were scared to death that I was gone,
Kissed my forehead and then my lips.
You asked for my trust, and I gave it to you.
But you just continued carving the mask you began so long ago.
I was minutes away from swallowing two bottles of pills
Because of the lies swirling around me,
Beating my battered heart into the filthy ground…
And you still lied.

I never thought I’d see the day I believe that
He is more of a man than you.
But here we are in a world where he is the only person I trust.
Tell me, how ****** up is that?
He may have torn parts of my life to meaningless shreds a long time ago,
But at least he admits his wrongs.
You, on the other hand?
You aren’t even man enough to stay faithful,
Much less come clean to me.
Sometimes I wonder if you lie so much that you start to believe yourself.
Words mean nothing to me anymore.
So, I don’t want your “I’m-sorrys” or “I-care-about-yous.”
Because you don’t mean it,
And if you do, then all I want is for you to prove it to me.

You see, I’m not the girl I used to be.
I ripped the naïve heart I gave to you from my chest
And stabbed it with every ounce of realism I could find,
Betraying any kind of faith or trust I had in this world.
My new heart beats to the rhythm of skepticism and independence,
Though, somehow, you still make it skip a beat,
And I know it could open up to you,
If we'd just let it.
I’ve finally shaken the devil from my shoulder
So that baby steps push me upward.
But here I am, still feeling, still wanting the truth to spill from your lips.
So, if you ever decide to stop being scared,
Maybe I will too.
I’ve just come to only believe in actions.

But, as I continue to lay here on this stained masterpiece of a stairwell,
I’m oddly content and inexplicably peaceful.
Only two words come to mind that I have left to pen.
And from the bottom of my heart, I mean them quite dearly:

**** this.

Pour me one.
I need to unwind.
Let loose,
Let go,
Break out of my mind.

Pour me another.
I want to forget
Your taste,
Your touch,
Desire’s one threat.

Pour it again.
I’m nearly carefree.
No fears.
Just laughter,
And fall to my knees.

Hours pass.
My room is spinning.
The heart of glass
At last is grinning.

Without a worry,
Devoid of care,
I tear out the heart
Beating to bare.

It throbs in my hand,
The reflection I see,
The same forlorn fool
Staring at me.

Darkness descends,
Shadows of unrest,
An all-too-brief slumber,
A drum in my chest.

And right where we parted
We unite once more,
Concerns that I left
Now piercing my core.

The intoxication
Of a hard imbibition
Can cause me to lose every inhibition.

But deep down,
Not once,
Can it ever forget
That I’m already intoxicated –
Constantly,
Completely,
And consciously –
By the immense love
I still have for you.



Sober again.

You know that whole
Perks-of-Being-a-Wallflower,
“You-accept-the-love-you-think­-you-deserve”
nonsense?
I don’t believe in that ****.
Because maybe some people accept the people
that display their utmost flaws.
Maybe some people see beyond that.
Maybe some people accept love
from those who need it the most,
Those to whom it is the hardest to give,
Because they know that person is doing their best.
That, to me,
is real love.
And just because you accept someone
doesn’t mean you believe in less worth for yourself.

If there
is a word
for
complete terror,
utter confusion,
unmistakable infuriation,
and stereotypical sadness...
please teach it to me,
because I'd like to know
how I'm feeling.

An empty cell,
The only light emerging from the small, barred window in the corner.
Slowly, but surely, the spaces grow smaller.
A light flickers off.

Silently,
Persistently -
She screams.

Illusion - muted echoes ring down.
They hear but don't listen.

Silently,
Persistently -
It beats.

Misunderstood - quiet tremors of pain shiver down.
They hear but don't believe.

Silently,
Persistently -
She fades.

I put a photo of my grandparents up in my house today.
They were married almost sixty years before my grandmother passed away.
I didn’t appreciate their love until I lost my grandfather last December.
I guess as hopeless of a romantic as I am,
I haven’t been able to grasp the possibility that it’s ever in the cards for me,
at least that kind of love,
And my problem is that I will settle for nothing less.

I was afraid of you the moment I met you,
and the more I learned about you,
the more I knew you would have the ability to hurt me.
I can still feel the way the heat of your arms enveloped me
the night I realized I was letting you into my heart.
I quietly rolled away from you and sobbed the softest but sweetest tears
I have ever tasted.
As terrified as I was,
I didn’t think you would ever break me.

Perhaps break isn’t the correct term;
Let’s just say I’m perpetually bruised.
I don’t think you can really be broken by someone
who didn’t even give you a chance to love them.

I’ve been avoiding writing about you for three months.
You see,
I didn’t think my words could do you justice,
I didn’t think my brain could describe
the knots,
and the butterflies,
and the confusion,
and the heaviness,
and the complete fury
that sometimes overwhelms me.
And every time I finally feel like I’m starting to get a grip,
every time I finally have a second to breathe,
someone pushes the fastest setting on the treadmill beneath me,
until I tumble backwards into the wall where I started.

I have so many words I want to speak,
but I hear nothing every time I open my mouth to scream.
Class isn’t a fun quality to have sometimes.

You don’t even deserve my words right now,
And I gave you the ones that mattered anyway.
I guess you just weren’t paying attention.
So let me leave you with only this,
but please make sure you memorize
every curve
of every letter
that forms every word
that means more to me than I will ever let you know:

You
are
better
than
this.

You
deserve
better
than
this.

­And
once
you
figure
that
out,

Don’t
you
dare
ever
forget
it.

Thirty letters unsent.
Phones endlessly undialed.
Thousands of words unspoken.
Eyes wandering,
Glances stolen.
One secret.
Continual questions.
Does she still care?
Does he?
Both still in love?
Both okay.
Both not.
Both guises.
Both sets of walls.
Both sets of fears,
Fears of the unknown,
Fears of failure,
Threats of the future,
Pressures of the past.
Too many expectations?
Both too frightened to say.
Both too stubborn to part their lips and merely speak.
Tenacious in the worst way possible.
Thirty letters unread.
And will they ever be?
Break the chain,
Remove the mask,
Shatter the wall;
The answer may lie on the other side of love.

In all my life,
In all my time,
I have never felt worse about myself.

I ruin lives
While doing nothing at all,
But missing,
and listening,
and praying,
and loving.
By being.

I'm a burden.

And it isn’t the smile
(Well, maybe a bit),
And it isn’t the eyes
(Okay, that’s a lie),
And it isn’t the vocation
(I guess, I don’t know),
And it isn’t the voice
(Though I do hear its music),
And it isn’t the touch
(But it does give me chills),
And it isn’t the scent
(Sweet as it is),
But it’s every flaw,
Every issue,
Every huge imperfection –
And the wonderfully careless soul it comes with –
That gets me,
And that’s how you know it’s not a
Utopian,
Blinded idea,
But the real, unending, idiot deal.

Note to self:

Get up.
Get the **** up
Off your sorry, beaten ***,
And stop being pathetic.

And know that trust is a lie.
No one tells the truth anymore.
No one knows anyone.
Best friends and lovers?
It's all an illusion.
Reality screams that
Trust is game.
Who can fool who?

And the one who is always there for you?
Always makes you feel like ****, right?
Just get the **** up.
And fix yourself.

You ******* up
Because your mind was clouded and hazy with care.
You somehow found logic in the illogical.
But you can't go back.
So get the **** up.

We all victimize ourselves
And pour the blame on others.
We all ignore the things that we do,
Both to ourselves and to those around us.
We don't even see ourselves because we're too busy
Finding flaws
In our friends,
In our enemies,
And then we can feel okay about who we've become.

Well, get the **** up,
And look into a mirror.
You did this to yourself.
Now fix it.
You're better than this.

Sincerely,
Yourself.



Get up, my friends,
And take a whiff of the big, fat "*******"
Freshly painted on my forehead.

We are
A nonentity,
An almost,
A could-have-been,

A wish,
A dream,
A hope,
A longing.

I live.
I die.
I conquer.
I stumble.

You play.
You speak.
You neglect.
You enjoy.

A breath.
A whisper.
A shout.
A secret.

A game
That will someday end in despair.
A desire
That it will not be too late.

A dare.
Go ahead,
Be a guy, my dear.
‘Cause I’m told no longer
Are you a man.

Open my eyes,
Cover my ears,
The berating buzz of the alarm sounds.
Catch hold of my breath
As my soul disappears,
Relentless and futile my heart pounds.

Attack me or choose me,
Love me, abuse me,
Lie, cheat, love –
“Sorry.”
Sorry.
Bruise me.
I just gave up on being strong.

Today is a copy of the humdrum preceding.
Tomorrow the stubborn replay still holds
This worthless,
Pointless
Life with no meaning.
Alone in the silence,
The secret untold.

I dare you all to shake me up,
To break me,
To shatter,
To stab me,
To blame.
The effort won’t breach this wall I’ve built,
The three new cravings,
The mask I now feign.

Fifth of *****,
Full bottle of pills,
Painkillers left would surely fulfill
A desire to feel,
A need to forget,
A wish to lose who I am,
Or will it?

A knife in the drawer.
A glistening blade
I long to drag across my beige, freckled skin,
Deep into my unfeeling flesh,
A thrilling pain,
Patience worn thin.

I finally gave up on being strong,
But I know myself all too well.
I care so much,
I hope so much,
I love so much,
So **** it to hell.

Now the first thing that I shall seek?
I’m giving up on being weak.

The third level of a staircase that rises to five.
Too weak to make it to the top,
Knife in one hand,
Empty pill-bottle in the other.

They find her
Colorless and cold
Upon the empty stairs
With weapons dropped and phone in hand,
Resting on a contact that was never called,
For her fingers were too frail.
Pallid skin chills their hearts.
A note begins “I love you all…”
“I’m sorry” carved into her thigh.
Crusty, red liquid spilled beneath her.
A face devoid of any emotion.

You’re too late.
A heart is steadily silent.
Lungs are stubbornly empty.
A body is willfully lifeless.

A daydream.
To sink the blade into angry, red flesh,
To burst every capillary and spill every vein,
To sever every artery and tear away the nerve
Straight to bone
Until the feeling is gone.

But this time
I'm ****** enough to use my sword for defense
And not for self-destruction.

Last night
I fell asleep to the pitter patter of graceful rain
Splashing against the roof over my open window.
As I lay there,
I silently bathed myself in numerous thoughts
Of how perfectly peaceful this feeling was.
My window,
Open to such a vast world.
And here I was, listening to its beauty.
Here I am, living its wonder.
But the absence of one thing lingered over my heart,
Something I miss,
Something that would have completed this moment,
Something that should have wrapped around me,
An empty space that should have been filled.

This morning
I woke up
And looked out of my open window,
Again at the beauty,
Again at the vastness,
Again at the wonder,
And I knew that none of it matters to me
Without the missing piece.

Cool, wet ringlets form in my hair,
Sweet aroma of precipitation.
Eyes wide open to a world widely shut,
All I can hear is its splashing
against the warm, solid grass
and the blacktop beneath my running feet.
Such a vast and beautiful place this is.
So, I halt to throw out my arms,
close my eyes,
and lay my head back
to just feel...
To feel the crash against my skin,
to feel the sun and rain collide
to feel the breath of the clouds surround me,
to feel fully alive.

I hear a slight buzzing through the walls
as the tips of my fingers click against the keyboard.
Now and then a door crashes open
to the sound of end-of-the-year chatter
just before footsteps fade into another shatter.
But all I do is silently lie here,
reminiscing about the four years I’ve spent
in the building that lies below.
This is where I grew up.

No,
I did not spend my childhood roaming these halls,
nor did I begin the tricks of my trade,
but this is where a naïve 17-year-old girl
was carved into a woman of strength.
This is where I made myself who I am,
and this is where I struggled the whole way,
having nothing to do with a single class period
spent here.

And now as the rain begins to pour above,
slowly leaking into the cracks of these concrete walls
similar to the scars I carry inside my chest,
I am proud that they are symbols of my past,
For a scar is a wound that has healed
but simply left a mark behind.

The marks from these puddles never seem to fade,
so we avoid them.
We do not write our deepest thoughts there,
because they just get washed away.
I think I avoid the scars
for fear of them reopening
and myself washing with it.

This is the place where I was given life.
This is where it was taken away.
And this is where I fought to retrieve it.

As much as I hate this place,
as many good memories are harbored here
that I don’t let myself think of,
as many painful memories I've had to forgive,
as many selfish memories I’ve had to overcome…
I still think I’ll miss it when I’m gone.

A burden so gruesome that we cannot speak of it.
The tiring lies of a mind yet desired.
Can we fathom our ways?
Can we masquerade about in pithy, writhing moments?
So often have I returned to this place,
Where my spoils and fillings have nothing left to give,
So I think.
And, for this, I know that every occurrence is a façade.
And, for this, I know that there is treasure left within.
To what do we owe this?
What begot so much distain?
What begot so much distance?
To whom can I trace this ******, frozen mire?
Myself.
It all lies within.
So, tonight we tear out our hearts and bury their remains
Into a ground that’s been flooded with so much confusion,
In hopes that our minds will follow.
…But will this blood still seep through my veins?
Will its persistent emotion inhabit every cell?
I have died tonight, with grace and compassion.
Yet, the image of a pulsing heart in my palms
will cause my soul to quiver.
I shiver at the thought.
Where do I go from here?

It’s still alive in me,
It’s still alive in me…

Why?
Because I don’t want to.
That’s not good enough.
Stop.
Oh, come on.* (with an innocent smirk.)
I don’t want…

Grab,
Push,
Pull,
Force.

Practically no decision.

Fake,
False,
Phony,
Forged.

An evil touch,
Sickened chills,
Scar after shredded scar.

*What’s your problem?
Why are you crying?
Stop being such a *****.

This world is so frantic
that in a blink of an eye
your sights have transformed.
A face blurs as you pass.
The storms come and go.
Names are lost in your mind
to the expressions they were once fleetingly attached to.
Every second is a mere breath we take for granted,
each step only taken with blinders to our destination.

Sometimes I think we all miss
the little things that ‘liven us.
We don’t stop to just take in our visions.
This I challenge you.
Stand, just to feel the wind between your fingertips.
Walk aimlessly while a light drizzle splashes your skin.
Look to the sky, close your eyes, and bathe in the sunlight.
Stop on a crowded street corner,
and be amazed at each individual life around you –
Everyone has a story to tell… or one to hide.
Understand that. –
Take a moment to breathe the air around you,
and be grateful for it.
Appreciate the scent of a flower in passing.
Watch the purples, pinks, yellows, and blues dance with one another
as the sun falls asleep on the horizon.
Don’t let your sight fall short of what your eyes are bringing to you.
There’s so much more to life than,
well,
your life.

There’s a strange satisfaction
in the tranquil pounding of feet on pavement
against the quiet whispers of the sunrise
over a morning’s dreary eyes,
when the world is about to rise,
and your unaccompanied flesh is its alarm,
like the soft ripple of a rock
skipping against the water.

I came here to stop feeling,
but instead I feel everything.
The hum of the wind beneath my eardrum
is a lullaby for my loneliness,
and the cotton candy sky is begging
for my mercy.

A few months ago,
this was the key to my fulfillment,
but somewhere along the way,
you went and changed the lock.
I tried to call a repairman,
but my throat froze
and my chest burst
the moment he stopped by.

I’m not sure what brought me here
or why,
but eventually
I’ll breathe again.
For today
I’ll simply close my eyes
and pray that the light that floods my corneas
when my lashes meet lid
brings brightness to this twilight mood,
and someday the repairman will allow me
to lift this weight from my chest.

Eyes closed, but I awaken
In the bed where my soul was stolen time after time
After a long night of tears and heartbreak
And turning to you.
Eyes closed, but the knowledge,
The sense that you’re lying right here, but a breath away,
Is the only comfort necessary,
A familiarity I feel I should have known before.
Eyes open to you looking back at me.
Pull me closer, my protection, my friend,
Tear stains on your shoulder.
Tonight I take back my heart for someone new.*

Eyes closed ‘cause it was a dream a year in the making
In the bed where I lay alone for the last six months,
Searching for myself in this tragic, numb world
Outside of what I’ve always known and supposedly wanted.
Eyes closed wanting to relive the moment a bit longer –
Just a little bit longer, please, I beg –
I don’t want to go back to who I was,
But I don’t want to leave where I’ve been.
Eyes open, I awaken from my vivid memory
Of the night I started to fall for you,
Where strength and weakness collided to make fireworks
In the best possible way.

No matter how much I try to control it,
No matter how happy I’m able to make myself,
You run through my veins –
You always run through
Every
Vein.

They are not you –
The ones who show interest,
The ones I grow fond of,
The allegedly perfectly wonderful ones.
They don’t make my heart drop,
They don’t feel my pain,
They don’t have the eyes that take me away,
They don’t raise their eyebrows
Or **** their head side like an adorable puppy
When they say hi.
They don’t feel depressed, or angry, or stubborn,
They don’t hesitate to tell me what they feel,
They don’t harbor stubbornness or prefer to be lone.
They’re here, and nice, and perfectly great.

But they are not you,
And they’ll never be you,
And why, please tell me,
After such a long time
Do I still feel this? –
And why, please tell me,
After such a long time
Do I want what I know must be a lost cause?
And why, please tell me,
After such a long time
Has nothing diminished or faltered or left?

…Why, please tell me, after such a long time?
…Why, please tell me, after such a long time?

Love loosely -
Fight with fire -
Trust treacherously.

It's not hard to disappear
When you're already invisible.

Are my eyes closed,
or is the atmosphere black?
After the hundredth collapse,
I’m back on my feet,
no crutch to lean to
or hand to hold.
The sensation of each heel strike,
each toe press the floor,
could delay to a hole,
for all I know.
Unsure and unsafe,
Undone and unreal,
I don’t see the strength
they see in me.
So, sometimes I wonder,
Should I stop moving forward?
Is this aimless?
Direction? -
I have none of that.
Still I keep going
in hope that eventually
my fingers will find
the light switch.

There’s a post-it on my mirror that reads,
“You are enough.”
I still remember the day I placed it there,
long after the initial dust settled
from the gunfire I started beneath my own skin
like the itch of an insect trying to gnaw its way in,
and I blamed the bullets on the loader of the gun,
but someone had to pull the trigger.
So much time has passed now
that I forget it sticks there,
funny how a reminder can become
so commonplace,
how I can look in that mirror every day
and never once notice the three words
that used to empower me.

But today I did.

Life is just a balancing act
of continuous changes and steadfast invariability,
but my own scale has always favored
one side more than the other
and never the side I desire.
Sometimes I don’t recognize that reflection anymore
but in best way imaginable.
The fingers that pressed the note to glass
were weak, overly trusting, and dependent,
but the eyes that watch its message today
have witnessed its every honest actuality.
I am enough.

I.
am.
enough.

But maybe now
it’s become too true.

With all the disdain and deception of late,
I want to, again, place at my side
The comforting cold of the clear,  orange container.
And I’m scared of what may happen if I do –
But I’m scared of what may happen if I don’t.

This life has proven that every day
The world will attempt to convince me that
I’m no different than anyone else ,
That I’ll never amount to anything better
Than these plastic dimples by which I’m surrounded,
That I’m not enough –
Nor will I ever be.

But it’s then that I remember why I haven’t succumbed
During these last three months.
And it’s then that I remember I am irreplaceable.
So just give up, because I’m a diamond in the rough,
Buried beneath this scorn and smile,
And I dare you to dig deep to my soul,
I dare you to let me discover yours.

That’s it.
I’m done with metaphors.
I’m done with comparisons.
I’m done with poetic lyrics.
(Though, they will probably slip in anyway.)
But no more nonsense.
Just me,
Bare emotions.

I can go on all day about wanting to forget,
Wishing it all to go away,
Believing that I mean nothing,
Supposing that you don’t care,
Distracting myself,
And talking as if none of it matters.
The truth is I don’t buy into any of that garbage.
It’s only the material that forms the mask I put on every morning.
My sword and my shield.

I put down my guard and remove the mask
Only when I am alone.
This is when I am safe.
…But am I?
Is a hiding heart truly protected?
Exposed, I would tell you that
Loving you is the greatest, most rewarding thing
Life has ever brought me.
This is the truth,
This has always been the truth,
And this will continue as truth.

You are not the ones before you.
This love is not desperate,
This love is not juvenile,
This love is not hollow,
And this love is not love of the idea.
This love is pure,
Fine,
And not halting.
This love is –
Well… love –
As is should be.

I don’t need you to save me.
He already did that by bringing me to you.
You see, I lost myself long ago –
You know this –
And when I lost myself,
You found me,
But I never found myself.
At last I have.
At last there is independence in me
I have never known before,
Free from the bond of love the noun.
Realization of love the verb.

And I do.

No, I do not need you to resurrect me.
I'm stronger than you know.
I am not broken,
I am not needy,
I am not desperate. –
I am a better person for this,
And I now know my wish comes from the right roots within.
My desires have not changed.
My love has not faltered;
It has grown.

No, I do not need to be rescued.
I just want you next to me,
Here by me,
Close to me.
Literally and emotionally.