I was in town a couple weeks back,
And I ended up striking a conversation
With the lady on the wall.

"You going to meet up with someone, miss?"

"Oh, yes. I am."

She smiled at me,
While she tilted her head as if she were examining me like something familiar she has already seen, and says,
"Remember that he is not love, he is a man. You are a woman, and you are not love to him. Between you two, there is love. There is a difference. Remember this, sweetheart."

I want to lay out my words in a way that is new to you,
So that you may exhale as if you've inhaled my words and held it in.

Throughout my life,
I was scared of being still.
I needed to move,
Or stay in motion, because once
I was still...
Feelings would catch up to me.

I needed to be faster than sadness,
Prepared for temporary happiness
To fade,
So I never got hurt.

That's what I do.

My heart or my mind would never really be where anyone else was,
But I am here.
I am here.
And I am still.

Please,

Turn my body
Into a garden
When I die.

Maybe flowers
Will grow out
Of the same eyes
That used to cry.

I just woke up in my house,
on my couch,
in your jacket.
I called everyone who called me last night,

and no one answered.

I lay here praying no one died.
Or killed themselves.

"You look like you got ran over by a truck."
Thank you.
I'm getting run over by something.
It kind of feels the same.
But it's not a truck.

I want everything
and I want nothing.

If I killed myself tonight,
Would you mind?
Would you even blink your eyes
If you found me dead on the ground?
Would you be disturbed by the way
The blood would be pouring from my open veins?
Would you call me selfish
And hysterically yell my name?
Would you cry the way a mother would,
Or would you cry like my lover should?

So I ask myself sometimes
As I'm lying in the dark,
Would you do any of this things
If I was to take my own life.