every so often,
we lose the fight.
the night sky disappears
behind thick cloud,
and we lose the light.
and the rest of the world
seeps in like thick smoke,
and we can't ignore
the raging fire out there
anymore.

you ask me a thousand times,
please take my hand,
and even though
you're within reach,
I let it go.
I won't mean to, but I
let go.

I don't know how to tell you
but you're my glue.
I'm sorry I came to you in
sharp shards and broken pieces
and sometimes those pieces cut you,
but you're my glue.
you're the thing that holds all
those little bits of me together.
you keep me whole and
you keep me sane
and you'll never know
but you're my glue.

his fingertips graze my skin
and those few moments are enough
to touch every little
corner of my existence

I stitched my bones together,
repainted my skin.
and yet somehow
the monsters still creep in.

when I let go,
universes fall away.
I found myself in
this sort of abyss,
floating somewhere that
is and is not. I am
no longer broken bones,
severed spine. I am
transcendent, I am
luminescent, omniscent.
I am everything,
I am nothing,
I simply
am and this
weightlessness
is more than divine,
it is the universe coming
to its conclusion, it is
beautiful combustion
it is starting over.

I am clean.

it comes in waves of loss and longing -
the bitterest taste of realizing
I will always be this way. I write
letters of apology to the ones
I love, because I will always be
this way. letting go is a battle
of blood and arms, and god
sometimes it takes years. they
still don't see my scars when
I think about all that I've lost
and all I've had to let go, and
the graveyards of all those things
I was so desperate for but
never quite got to hold on to.
when I lay alone, in my quietest
moments, all I can seem to grab
onto are barbed wire thoughts
and I know it shouldn't be like this.
I am a whole girl, I worked so hard
to put myself together, but it still
feels sometimes like I put myself
back together with tape and
I feel those pieces of me starting
to drift apart again and I wonder
if I'll ever actually be whole, if
I'll ever see the version of myself
with the golden veins of glue
that hold me together - she was
broken, but she still fills. and I'm
sorry I can't help but fall apart.
these days it happens less and less,
but god I gave away so much of myself
and I got back so little that it's like
starting over and over and over again,
and I'm trying so hard. I am, please
believe me: I am trying to be whole
for all of you, because you've loved
me so kindly and thoughtfully and I
want to be whole for the sake of us
all. I don't want to be the ******* the
bathroom floor falling apart at three
in the morning. I hate her, I hate
that she still lives in me, I hate that
she still thinks of the boy that broke
us so uttery and completely that he
stains everything I continue to touch.
I hate that I have something here
in my hands so wonderful and new
and all I can think about is how
soon this, too, will ******* break. I don't
want to live this life looking around
every corner, waiting for my next
ruin. let me live, let me be whole,
let me that broken girl who still
shines in golden puzzle pieces
because *******,
she is whole.

fits and
starts
where I end
where you
begin
the lines
are intangible
my fingers
grasp
desperate
for something
to hold
on to
for fear
that we
will start
to slip
before
we even
begin to
solidify
because
because
because
this kind
of bliss
is foreign
to me
it is
new and
terrifying
and it
feels so
so impermanent

because these good things are almost always preface to my ruin and my heart slows in anticipation, in dread, because I'm waiting for that culmination.

because
nothing
good ever
stays.