you only loved me
when the moon was high
         (and you were, too)
and the stars in your eyes
shone so bright
but not because of me

it was almost as though ten thousand moons
shone through your irises
but I still felt like I was fumbling my way
through an endless tunnel
desolate and alone
in complete darkness
        vulnerable
with no guidance
even though you claimed to be by my side

a hand to hold
a shoulder to cry on
                    the usual clichés
                    few are able to find

You always use the back button
on your phone,
never the home button.
You’re scared of exiting something completely.
You’re scared of leaving things behind.
You’re scared that home will take you far away.
But home was never meant to be something
to run away from.
It isn’t the park down the street
where you played as a kid,
or the hardwood floor you collapse onto
when hours past midnight become
too much to handle.
It’s not the splintered wood and bent nails
that keep the four walls around you standing.
Home doesn’t have an address.
Home never had an address.
Home was always right here with you.
It’s always right here with you.
So when things become too much
and you feel too weak to push forward,
you will learn to push the home button,
and you will find me.
I will be home for you.
I will always be home for you.

I slammed my leg in the car door yesterday
and it has left me with a decent sized ****
all pretty and painted purple and blue
and for some reason I cannot stop touching it
the pain gives me a rush, or something
reminds me that I can feel things and get hurt
without having to do it to myself
(I haven't cut myself in eighteen days)
-

The moon waxes,
the waves crash,
days end and nights fall.
And so the world goes on
turning,
       spinning,
and turning
Again.

Lovers lie peaceful,
tangled in sheets;
like the quick hearts' of birds
theirs' beatbeatbeat

And gardeners they tend
to their blossoming rows,
in hope that their fields
Reap more than they Sow

let their bounty fill hearts,
let those leaves foster love,
let those flowers bring peace
as on the wings of a dove.

And as a final touch,
keep safe the passing of the Days;
allow our mysterious Earth to
go on with its many ways.

And so the World goes on....

all that's left of you and I
is the worn out sweater that you left behind
and when I miss you
I throw it over my fragile bones
pretend its you

wrap it round and round and round my body
                          it's huge on me, you know
                          I haven't been eating so much since you've been gone
lonliness           (or maybe insanity)
has driven me to the point
of missing someone
I never even knew