You had tracks on your arms
that led to stations
that didn't exist.

Just a list of lines
falling off and around
your wrists.

Open all hour wounds
on forearm forecourt,
that your parents won’t find out about.

Happy faces never hide
humble beginnings
in a house like that.

You.
You weren't the first thing
on my mind
when I woke up this morning.
My eyes fluttered open,
and for the first time,
in a long time,
my thoughts didn't
automatically float to you,
as if on cue.
I fear you're fading from my memory,
one soft kiss at a time.

The truth is, I am breaking but I’m not broken just yet.
I know there will always be leafs falling from trees, I’ll never climb
& seasons changing somewhere I’ll never stand
but today I wrote a haiku on the back of my work schedule
and it felt cheesy but I smiled
& there’s something to be said for moments like that;
the ones you share with no one,
memories you create with yourself
that make you wanna go outside and stare into the sky,
just because you can.
And yeah, I haven’t felt a fresh pair of lips against my forehead in quite some time,
and I still ache to be told those comforting lies
but there’s something peaceful about the way
I refuse to allow my will to learn and to write and to know
to become a casualty of any war I wage against myself.
And so, maybe, I’ve fallen out of love with teenagers singing in coffee houses
because I just don’t feel like I fit in with them anymore
and maybe I’ve lost a certain charm that used to exist behind my teeth
and roll off my tongue with the spit and the wine
but I will never fall out of love with the way coffee tastes on Sunday morning
and I still kiss my scars, even when I create them.
I guess, January just always felt like a decision, for me.
It makes the continuation of my existence feel optional.
Well, this is my life. I don’t want it all of the time,
but I’m gonna stick around because I can see
the sun peeking through these dark blinds
and I know there's still light behind these tired eyes