They're asking me what I want to do,
How do I answer when I'm just now becoming who I am?
They don't seem to think I'd have much to lose, and I agree.
Simply my time to soul search and ability to pick and chose.

See, now is really not the time to ask.
I was in a coat yesterday and a dress today,
my heart's found a new target and my mind is constantly filled with last night's news.
Let's worry about school last.

I overhear their miscellaneous chatter.
No one's attempting to care more, learn more, search more.
Each one mindlessly coming up with conclusions and assumptions that hold no matter.

To this foreigner this does not seem fair,
but fair is such a foreign concept to me.
Of course the West wants to intervene and tell me how to live.
Add pressure to carbon dioxide and you'll end up with just a me; but the version of me you need me to be to fit in.

I’m scared of admitting that if I hadn’t come to see you, your life would have carried on without any more care for me, and my life would still be falling apart.

I’m scared of admitting that if I hadn’t come to see you, you would have been willing to forget us rather than coming to the conclusion that I’m worth it enough for you to try for.

Most of all, I’m scared you’ll never arrive to that conclusion, and that I will continue to cry myself to sleep in the years to come wishing things were different between us.

Wishing I could find someone else, that I was capable of loving anyone other than you, simply for the moment that they call me and I don’t have to go searching for their love.

You used to offer to walk me home knowing you'd have to walk back in the dark, alone.

I used to try and make our goodbye kiss last so it would keep you company.

Now you ask me about my day, I ask about yours, you say you have to go, and I lie and pretend like I do too.

Some may call this a relationship that transitioned or grew, but in truth it simply just feels like you're slowly falling out of love with me.

'Your hand in Mine'* by Explosions in the Sky began playing in my ears as I dipped my sore feet into the cold Chicago lake.

I inhaled all the pain I carried that day and slowly exhaled.
My eyes began to slip closed as a plane reached where water met land and began flying over the skyline.

I could feel your arms wrapping around me as I continued to try and breath. Breathing was never something I had struggled with before.

I was warm despite the goosebumps on my arms from the cold front coming in.

I didn't want to feel your invisible presence anymore, but fear of a permanent loss kept me from jumping in and finally ridding myself from thoughts of you.

When I opened my eyes the sun had begun setting and the plane was long gone.

You've wanted her for so long.
I can hear it in your voice and
see the longing in your eyes.
Give it a day,
perhaps a laugh will keep you from going home.
Give it a week,
maybe you'll start loving this noise.
Look up,
I promise it's not all just a facade.
Home is here, home is there, home is being alone.
She had already been made for you,
perhaps this time around it will be your choice.
If you look up,
you'll be clouded by her basic disguise.
Your present,
my happiness,
it's not all set in stone.

The outer walls are covered with white chipped paint and vines.
At the top there are bits of broken glass sitting as a threat.
The main black iron gate has rusted.

The hill after entering the squeaky gate feels never ending.
To the right of the hill are is a white church made up of infinite cracks,
destroyed in 2001.

In front of the church are two statues;
the ****** Mary missing half her face,
and baby Jesus missing both his arms.

Finally reaching the top of the hill,
you're met with a guard that has grease covering his mouth and dripping down his shirt.

You step through the last gate,
and you notice the giant red slide.
The red paint on the slide is chipped,
And there are children running through and around it,
each one with dark hair, caramel skin, and a burn on their wrist.

Where are their parents?
The children laugh, and run off.

There lay white sheets wrinkled from top to bottom.
The top half of them are dark, where the light doesn't hit them.
The same light that would stream through the African curtains.
There lay white sheets wrinkled from top to bottom where our love began.
Sitting on them forehead to forehead whispering sweet nothings.
White sheets wrinkled from top to bottom covered bodies for many a cold nights.
On those same nights that eyes would watch snow fall through the one tiny window that the African curtains covered.
White sheets wrinkled from top to bottom were screamed into on  restless nights.
The same one's that were thrown off when the seasons changed and only heat filled the room.
White sheets wrinkled from top to bottom were folded and placed in the only dresser in the  room, avoiding confrontation.
White sheets wrinkled from top to bottom hung from the tiny white closet, drying after being soaked in a water fight.
White sheets wrinkled from top to bottom were laid on every night, for so many nights.
On these white sheets wrinkled from top to bottom is where we laid on that last night, where we held hands.
White sheets wrinkled from top to bottom is where our love died.

Is pain losing you?
No.
Pain is having you then having to walk away from what I know.
We not only shared every breath,
shared our days,
discovered our songs,
but we simply were.
I wanted to run into your hesitant arms,
beg you to stay mine, to stay with me.
But we couldn't,
and still can't,
but will we ever find our way back to each other?

It's 4am and she notices that the streets are empty.
Her night is over.
She picks up her purse and starts stumbling home.

Her five inch heels are making it difficult to walk on the cobble stone road.
Her feet hurt from standing all night that not even the pills in her system can numb the pain.

She pulls out her flask and takes a gulp.
She continues to stumble home, forgetting a baby is waiting for her, begging to be fed.

As she finally arrives to her tin bent door, she sees him. Right on time, waiting for his payment.
She pulls out a couple hundred from her bra, and hands it to his tattoo covered, yellow teeth grinning, tobacco smelling lord.
"You're covered for this one."
She has another night.
She enters her one bedroom house, rips her clothes off, and falls asleep.
The baby is starving.

She wakes up to the baby screaming.
She dresses for the night, gives the baby drops of bourbon,
and heads out for the night.

4am arrives sooner than she expected, she's scared.
She starts stumbling home, again.
She falls, twisting her foot.
She tries to get up, but it's too late.

He's already approaching her.
He usually waits for her at the door.
He's grinning again with his yellow teeth and tobacco breath.
He pulls her hair and starts dragging her away from her house.
She cries. She begs.
She looks at the sky and prays it's over quickly.
She knows she's not making it home today.

Her baby's crying again.

He said "Let's be broken together".
Though those words comforted me for a time, it also showed me he didn't know better.

He could never truly understand the intensity of one's self loath such as mine.

He isn't broken, he's my perfection, my one exception.

Perhaps he's the acceptance I need to open doors that will allow me to self love?

He is not broken.

But he loves me nonetheless.

When I experience something beautiful, I think of you.

When the sun is setting and the shadows of kids playing on swings enter my camera, it reminds me of your life.

I wish I could make you laugh.

When I'm sitting in a coffee shop writing in this notebook and look at the rain drops fall onto the pavement, I think of your happiness.

I wish I could make you happy.

When the leaves fall from trees around me in orange and reds, I think of your dreams.

I wish I could help you chase them.

When snow is barricading us in and I stare into a burning fire, I think of your desires.

I wish I could fulfill them.

But mostly when I blink and take a breath, I think of my love for you--

I wish it was enough.

She belongs to him.
She always has, he just never realized.
She'd daydreamed about his smile,
and his heartfelt laughter.
His pull on her was that of like an ocean tide.

She hated him from day one.
She hated how he towered over her-
he could really hurt her.
She hated his ignorance,
only because he was so wrong about her.
His eyes scared her, though she'd never run.

She loved him from day one.
She loved how easily he entered her mind ever night.
She loved the mystery the he was.
His lips were haunting her,
daring her to kiss them and forget the sounds.

My mind is clouded with doubt, hate, and everything bad.
My heart is heavy, pumping, hoping each pump is my last.
My lungs are dying slowly, and with each breath I pray they stop.
My body is used and wasted,
it's everything I wish it wasn't.
Graceful,
Lustful,
Loving,
Caring,
My heart is nothing  worth wanting,
I'll be honest, I'm nothing worth having.

Well now, if little by little you stop loving me,
I shall stop loving you, little by little.

In May, I would have had you through frowns,
because you always allowed me to have the final say.

In June, I would have loved you through your screams,
because you would apologize with an angelic tune.

In July, I would have loved you through tears,
because you always held me when it came time to cry.

Then in August, I thought I could careless,
but it turned out that I was the weakest.

In September, I had hoped for change, apologies,
and for you to finally forget her.

October and November passed agonizingly slow,
but I came to accept what came next; the season of snow.

Well now, when you stop loving me,
hopefully I will have stopped loving you seasons ago.

It's the shyness, the quietness, the hide and seek game.
The carefulness, always taking precaution, knowing this wasn't the same.
It's the late night car rides, the moments on the balcony feeling like we were on clouds.
It's the way our hands had a mind of their own, having a gentle song with a following beautiful sound.
The hoping, the wishing, and finally the getting.
It's the secret, our alone.
The quick hidden kisses, and hip squeezing moments.
The no double thinking or doubting.
The wanting endlessly,
The way it did and didn't make sense.
It's the private questioning and listening.
The passion in the lips,
the lightness of the spirit.
The connection we'd never abuse.
It's the truth in words causing my heart to race.

*It's everything that's made me grow to forget you.

Happiness comes to those who most deserve, and with my dark secrets suffocating me daily, I most definitely don't deserve.

You say you're happy, but am I the sole reason?
Happiness I know nothing of, I've only ever known of secrets, lies, and drugs.

I'm foolish in thinking you can turn all this around,
but as mush as I wish and hope, your sweet words get lost in everyday sounds.

I try to enjoy the way you make me feel protected and cared for, but you deserve someone who can be fully yours, I swear I was capable of it once before.

My sleepless nights and terrors aren't to be shared, and I'm hoping they aren't forever.
With every promise you make, every tingle I feel, I think it's possible.
But I want more. I want to be sure.

I want to know of your dreams, your secrets, your fears.
To make you feel that I'm present, that I'm all ears.

Recent days have been different. I've felt strong and carefree to do and say as I wish,
and for once my feelings are starting to make sense.

I worried of you changing your mind, but now I know I wouldn't be able to change mine.

Your love is too much to ask for, and I promise to never ask that of you.
But for once I can't deny how I feel.
I'm scared more now than ever, because I know it's too soon.

I swear I used to know better, so I'm Sorry,
but I'm scared I may be in love with you.