this is a letter to all of those
who stumbled upon my dull eyes
and poetic words

i apologize to those who participated in
whispered i love you's and dreams shared
for watching from afar as your cared for me
a half of a whole

you held my body, empty
my soul scooped out of myself
like an acorn squash during winter months
nothing left but the skin
and my soul out among the wildflowers
searching for the missing parts of me
searching for my home

i placed my body in your hands
letting you sip the wine that made up me
drizzling you in honey, in sweetness, and in light
for i knew you would protect me
scrawling poetry into the broken bits
the unfiltered bits
you would cause me to feel something on cold winter nights

i am sorry that when my soul stumbled home
bringing home the bits that were missing
that you were left alone
standing in the dark under streetlights
unsure of where you went wrong
broken promises and dreams in your hands
drowning in your own love
suffocating on your sunshine
cursing yourself for loving too hard

i am sorry for hurting you
but thank you for loving me
even when i left you lonely

i am writing and writing but nothing good is coming from these ink stained pages. the smell of lemon grass surrounds these brick walls and a feeling all too familiar fills my soul. flashes of bubbly laughter and eyes so alive. the sun shines through the window casting light onto the walls surrounding me, but despite all of the light all i see is darkness. despite only writing about the good, about the soft and warm things, about love and lust. despite thinking only of your hands tangled in my hair and your lips deeply pressed against my neck, the things that should set my skin on fire but instead leave me ice cold. unable to feel the warmth, trapped in the winters of yesterday, my favorite sweater no longer bringing comfort.
maybe i am lost
maybe i am alone

hot pavement on bare feet
scraped knees and bruised shins
sunburnt shoulders and a never fading smile

what i would give to be a child again
to not know of all the bad in the world
to know just the old lady next door
and my best friend who lived across the street

what i would give
to have my rose-colored glasses returned to me
my biggest fear, my best friend not wanting to play with me
or the monster hiding under the bed
spending days in the front yard
reading far too many books
writing way too many stories

what i would give
to not know what a broken heart felt like
to never have wished for my own death
to have never spent nights on the cold bathroom floor
to still think i was worth the world
to not for a moment, become the person i never wanted to be

what i would give
to take back my innocence
to take back that never fading smile
for my worst hurt to be
falling and scraping my knee

take me back
to hot pavement and bare feet
sun kissed hair and bruised knees

there is a part of her missing
and it's not hidden between the lines of her journal
or the baby hairs constantly tucked behind cold ears
a part hidden by too much sunlight
it's not secrets under fingernails
or worrisome thoughts engraved deeply into smile lines

a part of her is missing
but it cannot be found in books yet to be written
in artful lines and timid smiles
in the iris of her eyes
it's not mapped out by the freckles on her shoulders
or in the laughter spilling from her insides
it's not written in her tears
or in the dreams that haunt her

a part of her is missing
it cannot be found or unlocked by you
you cannot bring it out into the daylight
or hold it up to the moonlight
for she has to be the one to stumble upon
the part of her that she is missing

who knew five words could cause my heart to fall hard onto the tile floor beneath me

who knew five words could cause rivers to pour from my eyes, my swollen heart the only thing keeping me afloat

who knew five words could make me unable to leave my bedroom for weeks. a blue bird who had her wings clipped, a song bird locked in her cage

who knew five words could cause so much pain

it is so, so easy
to write about cold beds
and tear stained cheeks
yet, it is difficult
to write of memories,
                                       of thoughts,
                                                       ­      of happiness
the things that could illuminate city streets
so for now,
i will lay my head to rest
and come morning
i will write about the bright,
the stars that shine despite the night

i've went off on my own now
but you will always have a special place in my heart
my heart will still flutter at the sound of your name,  
for it will wake up the parts of me that have long been asleep
i've taken your photos off my bedroom walls now
and stopped listening to your favorite song on repeat
it's the little things that bring you back to mind
...
two people holding hands along the trail by your house
laughing like we used to
or
someone singing a little too loudly like all of the times i listened to you singing your favorites in the shower

everywhere i go someone or something reminds me of you and with every thought,
                            i shiver.

i imagine you think this is a love poem, but it's not
rather a poem of remembrance

i've went off to walk my own path now
but you will always have that place in my heart
a place that you pushed and shoved your way into,
a place tainted by your fingertips
fingerprints that are like the lipstick that stains your lips
long after you've removed it

i've gone my own way now,
but i will never rid myself of thoughts of you
no matter how hard i try