"Enjoy your own company"
Is easy advice
When it isn't the only option.

"Learn to love yourself"
Is a lot easier
When you aren't the only source.

We are social creatures
But maybe there's a reason
The most successful say they're lonely.
Maybe coming to believe
Evolution has finally grown beyond
The measly confines of needing others
Is our inevitable future.

Or maybe,
Now is just a season
To be in your own company
So the next will be so much more appreciated.

See the beauty of the flowers
Those left to the wild, to the whims of the world
Unassisted by earthly hands
How relentlessly beautiful they grow.

Hear the birds, singing proudly
Free and flying high
And remember that despite their struggles
They are taken care of, as you will be.

Are you not, at least,
As beautiful as a flower
Do you not
Have words as important as the birds
If not more so?
For you are one of Abraham's stars in the sky
You will be comforted.

Isn't it beautiful
How the most vivid colors and scenes
Can be created from
Only the black and white on a page?
Movement, harmonies, blends of hues
Described with only memories wished from a writer to you.

Why do I convince myself
I'm not alone anymore
When as soon as I believe it
I'm left behind?

It doesn't happen every day
And it's not particularly remarkable
But it's these kinds of days
That feel remarkably perfect.

The simplicity in the ordinary
Finding sparks of happiness in that in-between
Standing on edges, making something grand of what is seen:
At dusk and dawn,
There is light in both.

They say to not let things bottle up
But how do I release it with no one to listen?
Screaming into the void does nothing
When the words need somewhere to land.

Alone, it builds up
And it leaks from my heart
In comments and glances and that deep aching pain
You can't, or refuse, to see
You never ask about me.

Now that I look back, you never did.
Even when I asked about you.

So now I scream into the void
But the noise takes shape
As words on paper
And sometimes, someone listens
But even if no one does
I can pretend you'll see it.
And in my imagination
Maybe I can pretend
It helps me heal.

Oh do you know how it feels
To be the tree that falls in a wood
With no one to hear it?

Was it even there to begin with?

Sometimes, in the corner of my eye
There is that glimmer
Threads of the Fate's tapestry
They weave their glistening strands
With gnarled knuckles, worn hands
Between clouds and in the dappling light under leaves.

I see the crimson red of fall
So barely visible, the golden spider's web
Brightening into the stark white of snow
And on and on and on -

Between time,
Between lives,
Isn't there beauty in the mystery of our futures
Known to fate
And only yet to be spun?

Like the ticking of a time bomb
Waiting for the payoff
The gift, or the stone
Gold or indigo
Weighing the scales
In your head, in your heart
The decision is already made.
Risking hope, waiting days
In time, your debts will be paid.

There is art
In this catharsis

Making beauty
It's cathartic

Words and paints and splatters and strokes
Giving shape to the unknown

We hang our pieces in this vast gallery
With new halls waiting around every corner

Not to be admired, but simply to be
Here we all have our own space to believe

There is such beauty in a blank page
Waiting to be decorated,
Or marred

Black streaks dashed hurriedly
Dark and bold upon its face,

Putting shape to the emptiness
Light into the darkness,

The breaking of silence

Like running out into an open field of snow-
The vastness of the front lawn so huge
To little toddler feet
Plowing forward into the crystalline stillness
Shattering it, with sudden life
Joyful cries, wind, movement
Loud and wild life
Out of nothing, out of silence.
There is beauty, in the waiting
Of a blank page.

What is said in the unspoken?
In shared glances
In messages deleted
In letters left in the bedside tables and
Notes left in the backs of drawers

Pens with ink that haven't been bled
And pages empty, wishing they could say
The message you think but won't put down
Or say aloud

But I can hear in the spoken pauses
The extra breath between sentences
The stutter in your words

Can you read between the lines
See behind the camera lens
Hear the chord missing from the harmony?
Are these audible pauses
Or am I the fool, listening to silence
As it speaks volumes?

How lucky you must be
Without even realizing
To have enjoyed the fruits of my labor
As I fooled myself into thinking
You really cared for me.

How lucky I thought I was
To be appreciated
As I was ignored
To be respected
As you talked behind my back
To be trusted
As you hid from me
Until the curtain finally fell
And I realized you didn't know me at all.

How many times will I fool myself
Into thinking someone cares
When they never ask.

How many times must I be judged
Without being allowed to plead my case
Until I see the jury is rigged.

How many friends must I make
How many lives will I build
On a foundation I pour
Alone.
Only to realize after the house collapsed
That I was the only one who lived there.

Sometimes I look back upon the wreckage
The boards are warping already from the salt seeping in,
The unrelenting heat of the sun
Those that are still above the surface, anyway.

There are some pieces of color -
A scrap of fabric, rope, plastic, remnants of a life
Which has been so wholly dismantled
I don't know how many times over
By the storms that came back, again and again
To make sure it hadn't missed a thing.

I am surprised I am here
Though I don't recognize where 'here' is
I continue to float, and watch, and wait
Until there is something new on the horizon

We will survive.
Shipwreck after shipwreck
Of anger, of pain, of grief, unrelenting
Unbearable
Until the waves part,
And breaths lengthen,
And you realize the sirens' call has quieted

You are safe enough, and all at once,
You can begin to swim again,
And reach out into the sea.

If you knew me well,
You would already know:
Every word has been written
In each moment with you alone.

When we learned about redshift, years ago
A classroom full of bored teenagers waiting to graduate
I found comfort in the idea that
Nothing mattered
Every decision in my future laid so small in the palms of the universe.

A lifetime seems so bare
Featherweight
Against the stark backdrop of stars constantly shifting
As the world we know expands
Without stopping
Unending
Beyond our perception.

Some thought it morbid. Others, a source of fear -
In an ever-expanding sea, who would notice if they drowned?
In such a vast forest, who would hear the tree fall?

Instead, I thought:
I alone can make the tree grow, and whether it falls or not,
No one and nothing will interfere, no one need remember,
But me.

Relax. The Universe is expanding.

I miss who I used to think I was
When I loved myself
In ignorant bliss
Of my flaws, and the mistakes I had yet to make.

As I've grown older, I've come to know myself better
And I can't say if I've liked the change.
But I'm stuck here with me, for better or for worse
So we will bear the growing pains

From old me, to new me
Pretending to shift while staying the same
Fooling myself with the same name
Unable to decipher these blaming games

Who or what is responsible for how I turned out
I don't know
But I know I'm not who I thought I'd be, at twenty-three
At least I still have hope that time will make up the difference.

I go through life with pebbles in my pockets
Walking alone through the storms with my raincoat on
Sand sinks between my toes on beaches,
A cool breeze flows against my cheek under forest trees
And my jacket hangs down with the weight of rocks
In those big wide pockets at my sides.

I pull them out, hold them in my palm
Pick out a piece of seaglass to admire in the sunlight
Set aside one perfectly smooth;
I'll send it skipping on the next lake I find.

Some are beautiful,
Some come with cold dirt that reminds me exactly where it once laid,
Some are scuffed from days, years, of scrapes and hits
And I no longer remember why I picked them up at all.

But as I walk,
Across regions and eons and ranges
I keep some and toss some
Though I'm always adding more.

The memories come with me,
And day after day,
I do my best
To leave the heaviest stones in the miles behind
I try keep my pockets light.

I think I am too analytical for love.
Which is contrary, startlingly so, considering
How deeply I have loved before.

I think it may be a fluke, the times I've thought I've loved
They say thinking you have something is sometimes
The same as having it: to be true,
It hurts the same once it's gone.

But maybe I am a fool,
Fooling myself in these fools errands

Searching for something I cannot allow myself to have
I am too analytical, I focus on the small things
To make excuses, and find reasons for dismissal
Simultaneously fighting for reasons
To love, and to let go
Because I'm not sure where the path goes
And the uncertainty is terrifying.

So I analyze, and pick apart
And keep it all to myself
Hoping and praying but with no end to the sentence because
I don't even know what I'm asking for.

For things to work out -
To continue? To end? To end in heartbreak, or in relief?
To last in treachery, through deceit, to lead
To peace? If I'm hopeful.

If anyone could break through my programming
Like waking a robot back to life, bringing sentience and emotion
Where it was once quiet and dark inside
I'd hope it's you.
Because there's a chance it could be, and
I've found no one else who could.
I don't even know what's there, anymore,
What could be brought to light?

Maybe you would only wake me to hurt me,
Or to use me
Maybe I should be willing to risk it to see the light at all

I am in a world I don't understand
And I am scared
But I'm willing to let you try.

I'm waiting for certainty
Surety, that moment of stillness
When everything stops,
You can't take your eyes off them
And you just know the world is right, again.

Isn't that what they say?
Something new should feel this way
Shouldn't feel this way
Uncertain, unsteady, questioning, flustered questions
Piquing my anxiety, my mind racing
Yet my unrelenting heart still skips a beat
Tormenting, unfaithful feelings
I wish I could be sure, before I want more
But something in my head is disconnected, and it stutters my steps
I'm stuttering in my words

I don't know how to explain myself
Speaking, critiquing
Saying my own words back at me
I wish I could feel the things I'm waiting for
So I could stop waiting, and instead
Just feel.

I remember how it felt
When all the pieces fit together
When I felt it couldn't be more perfect
And I could bear any weather,
And slowly, each piece was stripped away
Like a house on fire-
I watched it burn and collapse
Room by room
An inferno.
It left nothing behind
But myself, and my pride.
When it was dug out of the rubble
I glimpsed it buried from the sidewalk
The metal twisted, charred in places
But I tucked it in my pocket.
I'll keep walking down my street
(Though it isn't mine anymore)
Until I find a new town to be a part of-
Maybe a home once more.

I know I am capable of something great
If I can let myself believe it.

My biggest enemy is my own mind,
And without you, I can free it.

I am enough on my own
Without your validation.
I don't need your accolades
Or your labels,
I don't need someone to orbit

I am enough on my own
I'll put the work in by myself.
Long days and long nights,
With just my own company

And all of you can go to hell.

I felt offended when she asked me
Even though it was the same question I had been asking myself
Back and forth in my head, for months
Because wasn’t the answer so clear?

It was startling, how potent my reaction was
I answered with my whole chest
In a way I hadn’t been able to speak in the mirror
Sometimes only being tested will reveal the answer.

I have mended my soul
The splintering cracks
Painted them with gold
I fear will fade into brass.

I have sewn up my heart
The rough, jagged tears
With threads of silk gossamer
Becoming tattered with wear.

It should bring some solace
That it is part of the art
For these kinds of things
To keep breaking apart.

Readers, writers
Are a company who finds comfort
In the worlds we build for ourselves
And for others
Seeking solace when we have no comfort left
In the world around us.

I'm hesitant to hope
Caution tempered by the memory of hot stovetops
Still felt in my fingertips.

But I know
From the chances I've lost,
The opportunities I've let pass me by
That the only way to live a life
Is to let the windows open up
And lean out to smell the roses -

Don't live under the weight of,
"It's the hope that kills you."
Be freed to seek new answers, let life be open-ended
Ask yourself: "Do you believe in miracles?"

Even if you don't speak to me
I will still stand listening.
Even if you refuse to hear me
I will still sing.
Even as you close your eyes to every word I write
I will keep writing.
Just because you wish to erase the memory of me
I will keep my own space
If for no one else
But myself.

I am angry.

It takes a while for me to get there,
But that doesn't mean I won't.

It took some time for me to learn to read it
The subtext between the lines,
The looks, the fake smiles
But now I can see it.

I see you for who you are
And who you were,
And I can see now
Behind your smiles
The way you see me.

I am angry
Because you lied to me.
Because you still pretend we're friends
Like you'd die for me
When you prefer my absence to my company
But didn't decide to let me know.

Instead
You found a fault you could exploit
A guilty, shameful moment, a moment I slipped
You could have forgiven
And instead you let every little thing that remained
Pour out onto me.

All of the lies got too much
The uncomfortable lack of love
So you said it was the last straw
And you will blame the desolation
On my mistakes.

But I see it now
Rereading the chapters of our history,
The moments I felt a minor mystery
Speedbumps I painted over, glittering
Because I thought that's all they were.

Now I see the signs on those old highway roads,
And that this was one exit ramp of many we've passed before
I'm glad we finally went our own ways
I'm glad I see it now, that it was you standing in the way.

It wasn't my fault.
It isn't my fault, the way that you felt, when you didn't tell me.

It wasn't my fault.
It isn't my fault, the way I was hurt by the guilt you pushed onto me.

******* for making me think it was.

Thank you for the times you built me up.

And ******* for ripping it all apart,
And for making me do it with my own hands.

Sand is running through my fingertips
Course on my skin, grating
As I watch it pass by, I feel it land heavy on my feet
Already buried under the weight of what I've missed.
And what I'm missing
As I'm trapped to my knees
In all my wishes and old dreams
They seem so naive
But you know what happens to the best-laid plans.

I wish I could turn it off
And be happy with being alone
No longer wish for connections
Stop wanting the things that hurt me.

I am happy alone
But I would be happier if I wasn't
And seeing the empty space beside me
Has made all the difference.

It distracts from the view
Though I wish it didn't
And even if I don't look, I can hear it, in the silence
I wish I could be happier alone.

The beauty of a sunset and sunrise
Is the wash of night that wipes everything clean.
The long hours between:
When you can't see your hand before your eyes
You can't see the mistakes left lying at your feet
And in the golden dawn
Even broken glass and aging decay looks beautiful.

The silhouette of mountain ranges glow softly in the distance
Across the vast expanse...
In the morning, you can start walking in any direction,
Until you decide you've gone far enough.

At your feet the ground is new, untouched
Undisturbed tracks of animals and others unseen
Living around you, before you
So you can try to walk again
To live again
Like them.

Maybe this time
With not so many mistakes left in your tracks.
And if not -
There is always the next morning.

From just below the surface
Reflections of dreams and nightmares
Lay on each side of the mirror.

I wipe the fog from the window
And look through
To see myself.

My bed is cold
Even as I burrow deeper into the sheets
Waiting for spring
With the flower buds buried on the windowsill.

I can't tell if I'm asleep or awake
As I drift
The numbness, the quiet
Is peaceful.

When the sun rises
I will stir
And unearth from the soil
Blooms which have been waiting, so patiently
To show the brilliance
Hiding below the surface.

I drive home
Past the same highway markers
I envisioned in my dreams, in the hours driving here
Waiting and waiting for the road north to turn west
Slowly narrowing
Until I'm on my street
In my driveway
I reach the door,

No one's home. The lights are off
I look outside, the tree in the front yard
Lies dead. Not dormant
I know it won't flower in the spring
No one has been caring for it

The dishwasher is full
The clutter on the table
A photo of it all would sound like footsteps coming down stairs
This isn't the way I pictured it.
None of my future is the way I dreamed, as a kid
Life left me on hold
And the music is giving me a headache
I can't wish away the silence.

I can only watch the past form around me
Like concrete burying my feet
Pouring, pouring, up around my knees -
I know it in my bones, I will be buried in this house
Or at least, some important part of me
Will never leave

As my body continues forward, trudging
The parts who were hurt, fatally wounded
Will stay here. I'll be buried in the yard
With no one to mark a grave
Flowers won't be left, and none will grow
I've been left in this wretched place,
I used to call home.

I know in my heart
I have already crossed the Rubicon
And my course is set, with no way to return
The river only flows downhill
And I am on it, for better or for worse
Come hell or high water

Even if it drags me to the depths, smothers me
My body will be taken to the mouth of the river
To the doorstep of the sea

Every morning I am made to sign
To decide again, to recommit
Allowing myself to fall
I see the ports and docks along the shore, but know
My heart is already in the sea
There is no decision
But to follow.

Why does hope
Sometimes feel like barbs in my heart?
Is that the doubt creeping in
Or the poison of my dreams
Slowly, finally
Starting the process of my own death?

I wish I could do it over again
But at least let me live vicariously through you
Stopping you from making my mistakes
Celebrating your joys
Being proud of your successes
I can love you from afar
How I wish I was loved
Watch you fly
With my clipped wings.

Maybe I'll join you when I heal
But for now, I can only see the sky
Through your eyes.

It's where I work
Where I play
Where I go to bed, where I wake up
Those extra five, ten pounds
I can't seem to shake, to find the strap to release
To drop it from my shoulders

I can carry it here, I can wait to get home
Where I can let the strain show in my face
When I get a chance, a moment, to be alone
But I wonder
When home is no longer a place to hide
If I'll embrace comfort over sacrifice
So I can put down the weight
And focus on my own life

What are you willing to sacrifice?
What do you want to prioritize?
It will take and take and take
And you must decide
Is this greater good worth the weight you carry?

How will it feel to reach the top of the hill
How many times will you fall, and climb back up
Before the summit was a sacrifice
Of too much?

But if you enjoy the downhill
Convince yourself into contentment
Would it be a lie? And would you wish
You had given just one day more
Because maybe, it would have been enough?

Screaming
I let the noise take shape
Forming something out of nothing
In a mindless run, a sprint
A stream of consciousness, of thoughts, of dreams, of pain
Endless and rushing
Until I am spent and empty

Like a reservoir when the dam has been opened
I pour everything I've had left
Until I have space to breathe
And silence to think
So I wait as it fills again, slowly
And the dam will open again.

Talked over and
Ignored,
One word answers
With days in between

Asked for favors
Taken advantage of
My generosity
A flaw, it seems

Again and again,
A quick apology
I'm quick to forgive
But the fuse is burning

Breaking down my walls
But eroding my patience
I dismiss and defend
Because it's the role I play

Over and over,
I say it's okay.

It's okay because
I didn't need you anyway.

I dream of a neighbor waving when I pull in the driveway
We talk **** and sip wine or whiskey late into the evening
We do this every day, and every day we both need it
But their face keeps on changing, in my review
In the morning

I look in my phone for a number that's not there
The one I always call when I'm tearing out my hair
But every time I find the slip of paper, it disappears
The numbers keep deleting from my phone if I don't stare

I can't help but think it's because of the mistakes I made
Maybe that's because it's what they said to my face
Old ones I never knew until they got dragged out of the dark
The dust blown off so you could stack them on the new shelves that you built

I look in the backseat, 600 miles from town
Searching for the faces who at one time I had found
But the seats are empty, only my packed bag
And I still remember when this car was loud
Used to feel like a family even if you weren't around

But as time goes on
I'm told to think of gratitude
For where I'm at now,
For the memories I can diffuse
Maybe make them last, like a hard candy you refuse to chew
Keep the flavors in my mouth
From when I used to know you

And the road looks the same, though the wind screams twice as loud
As before, when I was alone, driving through these empty towns
But I thought when I came back here, I'd bring a village packed in my car
We'd take turns driving, instead I'm sleeping on the shoulder

So when I wake, and when I sleep
I turn the radio up loud
To drown out my silent phone and the unspoken words in my mouth
I wonder at the scenery
The beauty means a lot to me
I know you would've liked to see it too.

Words can always carry a message
To me, from me,
Even once the messenger is gone.
Stories and legends will always persist,
Not to judge but to inspire
Not to compare struggle, but instead to lift higher
Those few and many stuck in despair
On the shoulders of those who came before.

Because if they did it,
I can do it too.
And one day,
I'll be a story
For the next unredeemed who sits in this chair
Discouraged, alone, and tired
And tomorrow, like me,
They'll no longer be sitting there.

The words in my head
Sometimes aren't my own
Angels and devils, I hear them both
Mostly late at night or when I'm all alone
Holding onto something
Waves crashing in an ocean
Trees falling, no one around them
To hear the screams.

Sometimes all you have to live for
Is what you have to hope for.
And what you once held on to
Leaves you stranded in a moment

But you have to trust that life comes in seasons
And the love you once had
Just may, just might, someday
Come find you again.

I've come home / I hate it here
It looks the same / exactly as terrifying
I find it comforting / similar to a straight jacket
The stillness / it's suffocating

Hands reach for hugs / unwanted
Eyes search for meaning / we look away
Colors stream around us / they're dull, shades of gray

Why do I want to run away?

I am neither here nor there, in
Limbo, my next step postponed
Stranded halfway across the river
I lean down to taste the water
It is full of salt.

Forty nights and forty days
But there is no sign of rain
Or what comes after.

I wonder if I am meant to wait for the ferryman
Or if, when the tide releases me
I’ll walk to Hades myself
Led, trapped
This path the only left open before me.

I don’t know when I stopped
Seeking destruction
Or at least,
Stopped pursuing struggle
For the sake of overcoming
And instead
Sought destruction
Within myself.

Where did the spark go
That inner steel
That piece that searched for fire
In which to be forged?

I used to burn and chip away at my flaws
Working to expel all of my impurities
But I think I got carried away
And somehow too much of myself has gone.

When did I see joy
In what now gives only
Pain
When it overwhelms
I am primed to fly
Flight before fight
As my younger self would have done

Where did she go?
I must call her back
Maybe the clanging steel will ignite a fire
She can be persuaded to warm herself beside.

Why is it
That I give others the power to hurt me
So quickly
Before I'm sure they won't?

I watch myself do it,
Like when the horror movie turns towards the basement
And as they walk down the stairs
I scream for them to stop,
And yet that is simply the way the story goes.

To avoid it is to stop playing the movie altogether
And while I know what is coming
I know I need to simply let it play
To see the end at all.

A picture is worth a thousand words
But only if you can read between the lines
There is meaning in the shadows, but one you must choose to find
A picture disrespected by descriptors
As if it only holds what you can see
But if you could read between the lines
Maybe you could find me.

It is still surprising how painful it is
The ripping of roots, nested deep in fertile soil
Leaving great gaps under the surface
Pulling up clumps which refuse to let go

Is there a purpose to repeating this pain?
Why nest so deeply in a place,
Under the faint glow of a time clock
Its ticking pervading every dream
Knowing there will be an end?

Walking through my favorite city
Cobblestones, brick, pastry scents, coffee mugs clinking
I see the end of the street approaching
And I do not slow
I do not know if I can, even if I wanted to.

As I turn the corner
I leave it all behind,
This new street is quiet, and foreign, and dim.
But as I walk, I notice more
And my roots take hold again anyway.

Through every city, down every street
The journey holds its meaning in
What you see, what you hear,
The moments and memories
Are not meant to last,
But to be remembered.

Writing feels like painting with the widest brush
Making out shapes and forms on a vast canvas.
I like to sketch out stories like the scaffolding for a house
The framework for a window
The braces for a great tower
But to leave enough blank space for anyone to color it in.

Creations of their own fitting between the lines
Too specific and the details are overwhelming
But just vague enough to hint at beauty,
Light cresting over hilltops with golden glimmers of wheat
Vast waves forming in the dawn of a rising day
But the town, the colors, the city of people are made
In your image, dear reader,
Dear dreamer
You, writer.

If I could speak to my younger self
I'd be the friend I've never had
The one I thought I did, the facade I believed

So the pain of ripping that mural off the wall
Shattered painted shards of tile all around my feet
Fingernails digging into the mortar
Bleeding jagged edges

In my mind
I'd be able to comfort myself
The way I wished you had.