want, need
heal, bleed
skim it over, pretend to understand
let go of my love, grab onto my hand
tell me you’ve listened to every despair
pull it out of my throat, cut it out of my hair
demand for a reason, cling to the silence
question every decision, imaginary correspondence
if i could only dream up a single way i could breach
myself without turning to destruction to teach
me the flow of the stream, the ways of the wind
a calm way to turn my legs back into fins.
if there is such thing, if fear is not truth,
then with ease i shall release
the string of my youth.

last week i got myself a day-planner,
willingly buying into the illusion that i could somehow
better manage my time if i could open a book
and have the present, past and future
laid out in front of me
“keep it simple”, my therapist says
i like to think
i’m trying.
i have a to-do list as long as my fears
and a to-do-not list as long as my hopes
and lately,
your name is not on either one of them.
it’s September and the leaves are changing and it’s that
time of year that gives me goosebumbs under my skin.
because i’m getting older and i’m realizing what that actually means.
because my life does not revolve around you anymore,
i’m not sure what it revolves around except
life itself,
saying yes instead of no,
feeling instead of not feeling,
trying more often than not trying.
it’s a process and perfection is still something
i struggle with believing does not exist.
why do i still search for things in people that
are impossible to find let alone possess?
i want to be as good as i can be
but even goodness can be confused with pretension
even love can be confused with hate.
i don’t know anything about anything but i do know
that i’m proud of myself
for the little things, like not being afraid
to wake up and seize the day anymore,
for choosing to live despite how terrified i am
and will probably always be,
of failure and the inevitable passing
of every precious moment.

maybe i’ll never be able to pin down why
this feels so different from all the others
but there isn’t such a sense of doom
as there was with the rest.
perhaps it’s me - my heart is no longer
the dilapidated instrument i used to consider
a metronome - back then it possessed no concrete purpose
except to keep time to imaginary songs that reminded me i exist.
having abandoned my expectations to be completed,
i know now that that which feels forever is in fact
perpetually transitory, and though this has always been
among my most profound of fears, leaving its
teeth marks in every place of every part i’ve ever been touched -
it is also one of the most exquisite - a placeholder among other things
one may deem irrational, like the fear of success or love or happiness.
in a world where fingerprints can leave scars
and kisses can leave question marks,
you don’t see me as a collection of calamities that
you are burdened to undo.
i am not born from your rib, i do not bleed to watch you burn.
you do know this, you do.
i do not know what it is about you but there is something
inside your heart that mirrors my own and you can
deem a myth a prayer or a truth because
some people find each other and know right away
that they belong together.
and even if you tire of my muchness (as you surely will),
i will not dim myself down - i will not be ashamed
of the wingspan of my love.
but the thing is, i know yours is just as wide
and perhaps that’s what it comes down to, really.
for the first time in my life i feel
like i am made of more
than just
wax.

i don’t know why or how or when
the exact moment was when i was too far gone
to pull myself out of the quicksand of love with you
but it must have been long, long ago,
before our lips ever met because right now
i’m trying to remember how to breathe properly and
last night i accidentally found myself at a small house party
surrounded by people i adore but had no
desire to make meaningless conversation with
but i did anyway, because that’s what you do
on the Friday night of the week your heart is broken
“do you mind if i smoke?” i asked, not listening or caring
what the answer was or if i had ruined my reputation or first impression
all i could think about was you and how
you hadn’t answered my text, again, for the millionth time
and how i just needed something to inhale,
right then right there right now
as a substitute for you and your
absence.
the eight of us sat on the three story balcony and i was
the only one removed from the conversation, consumed
by the fact that the sun was setting and the full moon was
beckoning me like a pale magnet
as if to say,
“i’m still here, love
i will stay.”
i thought about promises and how i don’t believe in them,
i thought about you and how long you hesitated
when i asked you if you love me,
i thought about me and how stupid i am for
doing this to myself again,
all the while sitting there pretending to laugh
at a story somebody was telling about something,
something, i can no longer remember.

what were you expecting,
for me to put on some grand production of hysteria
to display the hurt that you have caused me
for some meaningless pity party?
yes you have succeeded in breaking my heart,
congratulations.
did you think i wasn’t expecting this?
to love means to hurt, there is no way around it
i accepted this fate a long time ago
because i was made to love,
and will therefore hurt, i don’t expect anything otherwise.
i’m not a ******* fragile doll that is going to crumble
over some stupid boy who is too much of a coward
to grow and receive the love i have to give.
i am worth more than that.
why did you keep looking at me as though i was about to fall apart?
why did you keep asking me if i wanted to break, smash anything?
i have always been numb before feeling anything,
it’s the only way i know how to survive the intensity of my own emotions.
you don’t deserve to wipe the tears from my cheeks anyway.
my sadness is no longer your business, it probably never was.
why did you hesitate so long when i asked you if you love me?
are you really going to let your fears prevent you from being loved?
you’re lucky, too lucky
and in the end, you probably don’t deserve me
but i don’t care. i loved you then, i love you now, i will love you always
i’m too loyal, too strong
for my own good.
but i don’t regret any of it.
there is no point in regretting love anyway,
there never is.
so yes, you broke my heart, congratulations.
worse things have happened.
it doesn’t mean i’m going to tear myself apart over this.
i’m worth more than that.
if and when you come around wanting me back,
i’m going to make it pretty **** clear that i have no intention
to **** around and play with my heart because
those days are over.
if i am going to have you, i want all of you.
because that’s how i love, and how i expect to be loved in return.
anything less would be emotional suicide.
i’m okay with loneliness,
i’m okay without you.
if that is how it has to be, then so be it.
so stop asking me if i’m okay,
i was okay before you and i will be okay after you
i am not as breakable as i may seem,
so good luck with your quest to find yourself.
maybe you’ll never come to the simple realization
that “finding yourself” is a lifelong process,
not something that comes compact in a box labeled
“fulfillment/purpose: open for answers” written on it in
permanent marker.

i wish for you to be all yours
before i can ever call you mine
but i'm afraid you've gotten so used
to belonging to someone else for so long
that you forget what belonging to yourself
even means.
you love me,
i can see it in your eyes,
i can hear it in your laugh,
i can feel it in your kiss.
but love foreshadows loss and i cannot pretend
that some days i feel more like a fool than a warrior
for going through with love, again
one more time, i can only hope
it is the last
for there is no one else i could ever wholeheartedly give myself to
in the way that i do you.

i wish for you to be all yours
before i can ever call you mine
but i am acutely aware that you lost yourself in someone else
for so long that you might never be able to get those
parts of yourself back, not to give to another lover,
but to keep for yourself, to be who you are,
who you aspire to be.
i want the best for you, even if that
doesn't include me.
yes, i am selfish
yes, i am sad
when you tell me your plans to sit down with her tomorrow
was i supposed to be glad?
she had you long before i did, and perhaps i'm afraid
that she will always have some sort of claim
on your heart.
i'm trying to be understanding of the fact
that this is part of you facing yourself,
necessary closure, somewhat of a fresh start.

i wish for you to be all yours
before i can ever call you mine
and sometimes anticipating being left
comforts me more than the concept
of passing time.

Sometimes love comes in like a storm without warning,
veiled as a vast ruin with good intentions
entering your heart as an army with no ammunition;
for nobody warned them about what kind of vandalism goes on
behind the wall of thorns that time
can conceive.

Sometimes love goes down easy like the banana medicine
you used to drink as a child,
slowly but surely, the way you would feel wellness well up
inside of you until all your self hatred
evaporated from your heart
with each sugary swallow.

Sometimes love is discreet and strange, reminding you
of days you crossed the street without looking and somehow
did not get hit by anything other than your own stupidity,
making it unable for you to decipher the difference
between the outline of fate and the shadow of coincidence.

Sometimes love appears out of nowhere on the most
ordinary of days during the most ordinary of circumstances,
meaning everything to you but nothing at all to the other person, similar
to the way you can lay beside someone staring
at the clouds on a clear day and see
an angel with a crown of flowers beaming down on you,
when to the other person it’s nothing but a ball of cotton, floating
gently away.

Sometimes love reawakens ancient longings,
desires you used to have and never knew you had;
memories you had forgotten and mornings that made you glad;
causing tears of discovery at how enough you now know that you are,
no matter what has happened, or how deep go your scars.

Sometimes love is enough and sometimes it’s not,
sometimes you’ll keep giving it to someone despite how clear it is
that they just want to be left alone to rot;
and although you can beg for them not to
dig their own grave and declare their defeat,
you know it’s as useless as throwing flowers at their feet
but you continue to love and you continue to pray,
for you more than anyone have seen what can emerge
from the beauty of decay.

Just because you don’t have the love and support from that one person who should, in a perfect world, always be loving and supporting you, does not mean you don’t deserve to be loved. Read this again. And again.

2. It’s both tragic and funny that whenever a good thing happens to you, a bad thing always comes up and tries to interrupt your joy. Just because you’ve always felt like a bad driver in a thunderstorm with no windshield wipers doesn’t mean the sky chooses to torment you. The sky is just being the sky. You have weathered these storms before, and you will weather them again. One day you will see how strong the tempest has made you.

3. You are unconditionally loved by more than one person. Not many people have that. Don’t be afraid to throw that love back out into the world with your helium balloon of a wild heart. And no more late night pity parties with that sappy “I don’t deserve love” refrain.

4. You cannot be mentally stable if your body is constantly trying to keep up with you. Feed it, wash it, clothe it, rest it. Just because you’re sad and scared does not mean your body deserves to suffer. I know taking care of yourself hasn’t really ever been your forte, so go lightly. Drink some water for a start.

5. Just because you’re struggling doesn’t mean going back to your old ways of coping are going to cure you of your struggle. The definition of a crazy person is someone who does something over and over again while expecting different results. You remember that person. You remember those results. How about not going down that road again, yeah?

6. You can doubt everyone’s love until the cows come home but in the end no amount of love from anyone else will ever feel like enough if it doesn’t come from yourself. It’s the oldest, most difficult thing you can ever do and we all need a little reminding every now and again.

7. Stop blaming yourself for still being afraid of being abandoned. There is no deadline on healing from old wounds, they have been embedded in you almost all your life. It wasn’t your fault then, and it’s not your fault now. If people leave, it’s their ******* loss. Your worth does not depend on who does or does not decide to stay.

8. You’ve always loved too fast too hard too much, but that’s just who you are. Love and suffering are synonymous. The sooner you accept this, the less likely you will be to inflict unnecessary suffering upon yourself because of it.

9. Sensitivity and compassion are two of your best qualities. Being ashamed of that is a complete waste of time.

10. Healing is difficult, but you have to keep trying. Stay for the love. Stay for the music. Stay for the summer days of iced tea and copper skin. Stay for the mornings you wake up in a pair of arms that make you feel like you’re home. Stay for coffee and popsicles. Stay for soft kisses and raindrops on your tongue. Stay for the sadness. Stay for the joy. Stay for yourself. Stay.

i scold myself for getting too attached;
i hate myself for loving too much;
i want to hurt myself when i get to the point
where i am scared of you leaving.
i will push you away before i need you
but i am afraid it is almost getting to
that point.
will you leave or
will i have enough courage to let
you stay?
what does it mean to love someone without
the fear of them leaving?
if i hurt myself, will it scare you away?
if i hurt myself and don’t tell you,
who and what would i even be
trying to protect?
when you say you’ll be right back,
i know what you mean to say is,
you’ll be back eventually.
whether that is hours or years,
there is no way to know for sure.
and that is why i look away and whisper
“okay.” because my need to be loved
and my fear of abandonment
are always at war
and looking you in the eye
is sometimes too painful
than me just saying “okay.” and letting you leave
with or without the illusion
of my permission.

the worst things will happen
and the best things will happen
both at the same time
as much as this will baffle and
completely confuse you,
it’s up to you to decide
between the devastating sadness
or the overwhelming happiness.
and on the days where you can’t choose,
it’s okay to ricochet
between both.

Don’t get drunk when you’re already soberly sad. The sadness will become so amplified that you will fall asleep to the feeling of yourself drowning in your own tears.

2. Sleep on the ground without a mattress for one night. You will wake up feeling sore and bruised, and thirsty for the comfort of your own bed. See this as a metaphor for how you feel on the inside. Recognize that the bruises will fade. Find a way to embrace the power of longing.

3. Let him hold you while you cry. Get your snot all over his shirt, sob into his shoulder, let him comfort you. You went without comfort for so long it’s about time you let go and let yourself be loved.

4. Write it out. No one will ever understand your pain down to the bone but you. Bleed out through the pen instead of the skin. There’s no such thing as a page that would rather remain blank.

5. As hard as it is to accept, sometimes the only thing you can do for someone who’s hurting is remind them that you love them.

I’m watching you
fall
down
down
down
into the rabbit hole
again. I reach out
my hand, suspended in fear
you reject it and say,
“I have to go for real this time.”
this time? There is no time.
you don’t see yourself.
you can't see yourself.
I want to follow you
into the hole of oblivion just so you don’t have to be alone in this.
but hating myself is a hamster wheel
I can’t afford to run on anymore
even still, i wish i could make you see
how unbelievably perfect you are
and have always been.
I hope one day you’ll swim up
to the shore to clear your lungs,
and when you do,
I will be there, waiting for you
and we can go back to neverland
and live in the lagoon of love
that brought us together
in the first place, that seems like it was
so very long ago.

I miss
Everyone I was
Everyone I wish I could save
Every place I’ve been
That I wish I could have stayed

I miss you.

my heart sank so far
down into my stomach
when I found out that
you’re trying to make
yourself disappear again.
I am so helpless and scared
for you, I know
there’s nothing I can say to make you
feel like you’re enough but
I can’t help but hang on to the hope
that you will find an ounce of strength
to love and take care
of yourself again.
I wish I could but
I can’t do it for you.
please, please
try. I love you so much,
it hurts.

with my head gently resting on your shoulder,
eyelids heavy with a golden slumber,
i drifted off to the land where nothing exists
but your voice,
reading me poems by Yeats. a single
tear you shed, it fell down your cheek and you
said
“yes.”
you pulled me closer to you, reminding me to breathe.
you held me in your arms like they were a sanctuary
i could live in without ever feeling like my wings
had to be clipped in order for me to be
free.
you mustn’t starve yourself of the things that give you life, my dear,
oh but I know, this life sometimes feels like too much to bear.
food, love, affection
you looked up at me in all your
perfect imperfection
as my heart became so full
i began to float away.
when i look at you, i see stars
and suns and giant moons
i hear fireworks transmuted to verses
of poems and songs i wish I had written,
i feel all the beauty and pain that is needed to be felt
in order to be human.
treasure you,
do i ever
the joy is loud!
when we are
together.

perhaps it’s the fear of being loved
or the fear of being left
that has been gnawing on my heart lately,
a cruel reminder of what it means
to be truly alone.
you’re here
and then you’re not.
i am afraid of being the thing of lesser importance.
i am afraid of the past repeating itself
but that in itself may be
a red flag.
for it is only I and I alone
that can prevent that from happening.
by choosing not to crumble at the slightest scent
of abandonment.
by savouring the sweetness of sleeping beside you,
until morning comes to kiss us with lips
scarred with inevitable parting.
perhaps it’s the fear of being loved
or the fear of being left
that has been gnawing on my limbs lately,
making it impossible to take a small step
on the days where the sun decides to resist the day.
i have no reasons to give you,
only a word coupled with a wide-eyed stare.
i feel too much and yet i feel nothing
at all.
sleep walking on a cloudless sky, trying to pin down
a distant bird, the root
of its incessant call.

sitting before the curtain of my heart,
i feel the ripples of what some might call fear
for what is about to unveil.
behind me sits an audience that can only  be described
as a sea of songs long since embedded in my brain,
waves of past lovers and lies and the
silhouette of a solitary sickness.
then suddenly, the lights go dim
and i am overcome by the previews
of the present moment.
caught between the sea behind me
and the curtain in front of me,
is all that i am
all that i love
and all that i have yet
to be.

once you embark on the journey
of healing
you can’t really go back.
i mean you can, but if you do,
you have twice the work to do
if you want to start healing again.
and it’s terrifying.
every day i’m faced with the choice to either
wallow in all the things that make me sad,
or count my blessings and revel in being happy and present
and every day is a
fight.
some days are like jumping through puddles in rain boots,
other days are like climbing the tallest mountain in bare feet,
but i have come to learn how to
appreciate the sad days
because they always teach me something i didn’t know
before, about how to be happy again.
there is still such a long way to go
and nobody can do it for you
so be brave,
be brave,
be brave.
you know how.
i promise you, you do.
you are worth all the stars in the sky, the moon and the sun combined.
you are a million candles in an echoey cathedral.
you are the three part harmony in every one of your favourite songs.
you are every kiss, every embrace, every scar
that smiles like a warrior when people notice that it has
healed.
you are not the things that have happened to you,
you are not your sadness or your loneliness or your thoughts.
so be brave,
be brave,
be brave.
you know how.
i promise you, you do.

one good thing will happen
to counteract the bad,
bringing me back down to earth,
dissolving each dream that i’ve had.
expect the worst, always hope for the best
set yourself up for a long way down
to fall until you can finally rest.
i can’t have everything, everyone knows nobody can
i feel like an ostrich
hiding his heavy head in the sand.
maybe disappointment and happiness
are in fact, closely linked.
maybe what i need is beyond what i want
or feel or say or think.

the best thing for my heart
is the worst thing for my mind
it just can’t wrap itself around the fact
that now is the best time
to stay away, to cast a tall shadow
on the silhouette of my hopes,
to let you have your space
to hurt and bleed and heal and do
whatever else you need to do
to feel like yourself again.
time and patience and distance
is the only cure for that.
me and my selfish desires play no part in this,
i know, you don’t have to tell me.
it’s the best thing for my heart
but the worst thing for my mind,
i’d be yours in a second if only
you’d see the ties that bind.

every time you look
at me my words light on fire,
i can't say a thing.

I broke a string on
my ukulele. It’s safe
to say, I relate.

despite how much i’ve learned and lost
again and again from love,
i will never be the girl who does the things she should
to protect her own heart.
the moment i know i love you,
i will hand it to you, in a box marked
“FRAGILE: Handle with care” but you won’t.
you never will.
i won’t pretend i don’t know this the entire time.
i will only dress in red just because i know
it is your favourite colour,
i will ask you what your middle name is because not knowing
little details about you will drive me insane.
i’m not the girl who moves on if her feelings are not
reciprocated.
because love for me is not an easy thing.
it is everything. it is the only thing.
when i love, i love hard.
i live and breathe love,
i dream love, i am love.
i will try to kiss you when we’re both drunk and delirious,
i will keep trying to kiss you even when you say
no, that it “isn’t the right time.”
i will shower you with profuse apologies for things
that are not even my fault to begin with.
i will touch your hand at every chance i get,
because i know one day soon i won’t be able
to touch you at all.
i will become calloused by your rejections,
despite your obvious forbidden returned affections.
i will consider myself a ******* because of how painful it is
to not give up.
with me, giving up is not an option.
giving up has always been the curse.
the curse i will forever wonder why i was not
blessed with.

i’m sorry i wrote about you.
i’m sorry i tried to immortalize you by placing your existence
in my heart and having it bleed out in black ink.
i’m sorry i fell in love with you.
i’m sorry i made you feel inspired and desirable, when you have
someone who probably loves you very much waiting for you
every night when you get home.
i’m sorry we can’t be together.
even though you haven’t made a decision yet, the silence between us
tells me all i need to know.
you’ll choose her.
you’ll always choose her.
i’m sorry i wrote about you.
even though i’m not, really
when i say that it’s more of an apology to myself
for letting your presence completely dismantle
any idea i’ve ever had about love.
don’t pick up the pieces. leave me scattered.
this is my mess to mend.
you’re on a never-ending racetrack
with no real intention of stopping for anything, let alone
a heartless hitchhiker like me, waiting for you
to put your life on the brakes.
i get it.
i’m a meaningless distraction,
a pleasant diversion,
a secret flower you keep hidden underneath all
the things you’re too afraid to say.
i will never be more than that.
i get that now.
well i’m sorry,
but my thumb is getting tired.
from now on, i think
i’ll walk home.

i have a feast full of love for you, darling
that is waiting for you on the table of my heart.
every time i see you,
you say that you are starving. you sit there
with wide eyes and shaky hands, devouring
nothing.
i have a feast full of love for you, darling
that is waiting for you on the table of my heart
but I am afraid it is slowly turning
into poison for the parakeets.
because that’s what happens when you love someone you
can’t have, you want to give them everything
but since you cannot, it just sits there,
slowly rotting, gently decomposing with heartbreak
covered in flies. this hurts
more than i was expecting, i was not planning for this
to happen again.
i am beyond furious at myself for cultivating a love
that is going everywhere but inside of you,
down the drain
in the trash, in the bellies of a flock of geese flying in
the opposite direction of where they belong.
even though you said you will,
deep down i know that you might never make up your mind.
which means i have to make up mine regardless of
if or when you actually decide to.
there is a fine line between hope and heartbreak
there is a fine line between love and longing.
this is the part where i choose not to be stuck.
this is the part where i clean up the table, do the dishes
open up the cage of parakeets singing love songs inside
the gazebo of my heart,
and set them free.
whenever you think of loss,
i hope you always think of me.

if you choose her I
will understand. My heart is
breaking regardless.

i surprised myself by how quickly i
trusted you.
i handed you all my secrets with no thought of
the outcome.
and although perhaps it was the liquid courage that punctured
a hole in the heart of my fear of exposure that night,
the next day and the following days after
i was unusually filled with relief, no trace regret.
you are someone i am forever grateful to have met.
and when i cherish someone with my whole heart
i give myself no choice but to show them all of me
not as a test but as a rest, like a pause
in a sheet of music or a moment of silence in a room full
of people.
trust is an art form, it requires practice.
but sometimes you will meet someone you feel you have
met before, perhaps in another life or universe -
all you know is that
your souls are connected.
and so you feel the need to remind them of who you are,
with no eclipse of the ego to distort you.
i wonder if it scared you, if it made you feel things
you forgot you could feel.
when i told you that i am not very good at concealing my emotions,
i called it a curse and you disagreed.
in retrospect, i can see that that was your way
of appreciating my honesty.
blessings are almost always disguised as curses,
it just requires a true connection between two people like us
to strip the truth of its blackness, to lay down naked
side by side underneath the radiant glow of the night sky,
to speak of things we previously deemed
unspeakable,
to watch our fears explode like fireworks
inevitably parting ways in the wee hours of the
early morning,
twin souls endlessly,
tenderly entwined.

to discard a love that hasn’t yet occurred,
to pull away from a pair of lips you’ve yet to touch,
to let go of a hand that was never held,
to obliterate an iloveyou that was never said,
to look away from eyes that have yet to collide,
to reclaim a heart yet to be stolen,
these are things i think about
when i think of you.

I want you to open up your eyes
And look at the signs.
I want you to ask yourself who and what
Lights up your eyes and heart
And makes you feel everything and nothing but
Free.
I want you to suffer to the point
Where you are so sick of suffering
That there is no other option but
To relieve yourself from what’s holding
You back.
Until your only option is to be
Free.
I want to kiss your eyelids and tell
You that you have started a fire in me
That cannot, will not die.
I want to tell you that even if you don’t
Choose to be with me I will
Love you always.
Yes, I admit
I want you to leave her
But even more so,
I want you to be happy,
Even if that happiness is not
Something I can be a part of.
Whatever you decide.
I love you that much.
I love you that much.
I hope that scares you.
Because it should.

when an unrequited love suddenly steps into your life,
do not panic.
do not try and win him over.
do not create scenarios in your head of a pixel perfect dreamland
where you two can live happily ever after together.
do not waste your time looking at pictures of him and his girlfriend
on Facebook just to fuel your lack of confidence and confusion.
do not tell him you write poems about him.
realize that even if you do tell him, he will not ask to read them.
do not hang out with him and have ulterior motives.
do not stare at his arms, at his hands, do not look
at the strand of hair that falls ever so delicately over his chiseled face.
do not think about pushing it back.
do not make eye contact for too long, even if he’s the one
who started it.
realize that there is an entire language when it comes to two
people looking at each other straight in the eyes,
but it doesn’t always mean they are speaking the same one.
do not bring him up in conversations.
this is not a topic for small talk.
this is a topic for writing sappy poems and sad songs.
this is a love that no amount of discussion or advice will
be able to comfort or protect you from.
when you go to his apartment to hang out and play music,
pretend not to notice his girlfriend’s things.
her bobby pins on the bathroom counter.
her underwear hanging out to dry.
her tampons underneath the sink.
photo-booth pictures of the two of them up on
the refrigerator. you don’t see it. you don’t.
do not wonder what he’s told her about you.
keep your questions about her limited.
when he compliments you on the dress you are wearing,
say “thank you” and walk away. do not let that be
the reason why you are suddenly smiling and speechless.
know that there is no cure for this.
know that this is an open wound that will probably never heal
unless you cut him out altogether.
do not confuse bravery with selfishness.
see the simplicity of loving without being loved in return,
feel the pain of how hard this is to accept.
do not use this as an excuse to be empty again.
and when you feel like screaming into a pillow and tearing out
strands of your hair in an unequivocal rage wondering
“What do I do with all of this love then??”
Create a thumbtack out of your frustration, poke a hole in your vein
and feed all of that love to yourself until you no longer
feel the need to think about him
anymore.
that, is bravery.

It was the way his last breath escaped both corners of his half-opened mouth 
as if to suggest a lapse in memory or an opinion that demanded to be expressed.
It was the way the light leaked in through the slivered blinds of the half open window, causing my brother to squint in his sleep, dreams of staring at the sun without ever going blind before awake, forgetting to blink.
It was the way my mother gave me a one armed hug, mumbling a vague “I love you too” while staring off into the distance, handing me a half smile before driving off into the sunset of my vulnerability.
It was the way the music entered the home of my ventricles without ringing the doorbell, hitting the head of my heart until it was all black and blue, succumbing to the beat of its abuser.
It was the way I opened the flesh, the tiny red petals colouring the bath water red, planting little seeds as if to say: “Here. I am here. I exist.”
It was the way my skin grew over itself weeks after every wound, a thin layer of white snow covering it like an unwanted winter, begging to be shovelled, poked, prodded, or stepped on again.
It was like death on his doorstep, a couple of violins failing to comfort each other beneath a tired symphony.
It was the best way a band aid is to be removed. A little at first, then all at once. One clean swift sting.
It was a lot like 
leaving.

laugh
because he’s just a silly boy who will
never leave her for you
laugh
because you’ve been taking yourself
too seriously lately
laugh
because your desire for romance
is just a wish to be wanted again
laugh
because you could have anyone else
and you know it
laugh
because he has no idea how much you write about him
laugh
because it’s funny that you only
ever fall for people who can’t love you back
laugh
because tomorrow is Friday or should I say today
laugh
because this is the best year of your
life
laugh
because you don’t need anyone
laugh
because you love yourself
laugh
because you are loved
laugh
because you are moving mountains
without anyone’s help.

my downfall will always lay
on me putting too much emphasis on having certain
people in my life. it is terrifying,
because as soon as you let someone be the place
your mind wanders to when it’s bored or sad or lost,
you are in vulnerable territory.
and if it’s not
reciprocated, you’re *******.
i’ll never forget the first time i cut myself on the edge
of his indifference, my friend kept asking me
“why does he matter so much to you?”
and even though that was years ago,
i still can’t come up with an answer.
that’s the problem with caring too much,
you end up feeling like a deformed piece of pottery
touched and moulded by someone who never intended
on taking up a new hobby.
i confess, i’m not as i seem,
i can manipulate the perception other people have of me
so as to avoid the possibility of ever getting hurt.
when did i associate being myself with being hurt?
i do not know.
all i know is that with you i don’t pretend,
and i am more than aware
that that could be potentially
annihilating.

self-love is a murky swamp amid a stranded fog;

my mother’s failures are as abundant as her rock collection,
which always made me wonder why we didn’t live someplace
closer to the sea.
like a baby bird with its mouth wide open,
i waited for guidance until the ache of my jaw became unbearable,
so i jumped out of
the nest on impulse
and hit the pavement, hard.
every ***** was donated to the bellies of the magpies,
every thought stolen by the worms.
some strands of hair evaporated into the sky,
while others were used as material for future nests.
any left over flesh was given to the wolves,
for they recognized my inexhaustible spirit.
my eyes, hungry for survival,
dug tiny holes for themselves, and went to sleep.
by the time spring came around they starting sprouting
forget-me knots that were picked and placed
in a small bouquet, purchased by a lady
that gave the bouquet to her daughter
on the day she learned how to mother herself,
with a note attached that said:
“please forgive me.”

pockets full of pointless poems
slipping out from under my tongue
i walk home with my arm around the moon,
cold feet finely balanced on the sun
thinking about
my eyes on your lips,
your hands on her hips,
a flash of potential,
a smile that fades,
my hand, lighting your cigarette
knowing full well
that’s as close to you
as i’ll ever get.

they warn you not to cling to that which you do not wish
to lose
but what if everything is like water in a desert,
or maybe a frozen pole i can’t help but lick,
it’s all so smiling,
unharmed and unaffected,
while i chase my tail
all swollen and restless.
why must the sun set every night?
is it laughing as it leaves?
i have been trying to decipher what the moon
has been trying to tell me all my life.
for a while i was sure she was whispering,
“you are meant to be loved.”
but then one night i heard her shout:
“you are meant to love, regardless of if you are loved in return.”
sometimes she starts sobbing so loudly i wonder how the stars
can put up with her, let alone begin to offer her comfort.
what does the sun think about all of this?
then sometimes i stare at a tree and make friends
with a few birds and ask them the same question.
all they ever have to say is found within the gaps
of silence, betwixt their chirps
and if my mind is quiet enough,
i can hear the beating of my heart, resonating
in those spaces.
when did i stop needing my mother so much?
why do i love so hard so much
so painful i might implode?
i still long for ex lovers,
i still cherish old friends.
but nostalgia has no place in this.
this is something entirely set and insisting on being
right here. right now.
perhaps it is time for another visit with the moon.
i will call out for her tonight, even if my heart skips a beat
at the sound of her sobs.

you will sit there and never love me,
i will sit there and always love you.
and neither of us will ever find the courage
to speak of it.

i can’t listen to the Strokes without thinking of my first love,
and how I only fell in love with them because
they were his favourite band, and i was in love with him.
i can’t listen to Mozart, Chopin, Satie, or classical music of any kind without thinking of my mother playing piano late at night
while I fell asleep to the sound of her fingers emanating warm melodies.
i can’t listen to Elliott Smith without thinking of being on the bus on the way to high school, and how much solace his music brought me
during those deeply lonely years of anguish and abandonment.
i can’t listen to the Beatles without thinking of my entire family,
jamming together in the garage, without thinking of love.
i can’t listen to the Weepies without thinking of my best friend,
driving around in her car on our way to anywhere, how those songs are symbols of our friendship in the form of sound.
i can’t listen to Regina Spektor without thinking of myself, throughout all stages of my life, without feeling alive, reminding me of who i am,
as an artist, as a lover, as a being.
i can’t listen to Tegan and Sara, *****, Rilo Kiley, Metric, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, or Broken Social Scene without thinking of my high school friends, all those concerts we went to, all the late nights.
That was the music that made me brave.
I can’t listen to Jazz music without thinking of my grandfather, and how many times I sang with him while he played the piano and smiled.

most of these people have come and gone
and i could go on
but if I’ve loved someone, there is a song that I will always associate
with them, and that time of my life.
music is the definition of every moment.
it’s one of the most comforting truths that there is.

i’ve listened to the new St. Vincent album about ten times today
and i just have to say
that those songs i sing that i wish i wrote
are extensions of myself because
they make me feel something and
if i couldn’t sing i probably wouldn’t play an instrument
simply because i use instruments
as an excuse to sing words i need to say
and when i sing them i mean them,
not when i say them,
when i sing them.
i’ve listened to the new St. Vincent album about eleven times today
and i just have to say
i love you, i mean it
i mean it, i sing it.

days are more about
reading, learning, listening
to the life that i have,
to the life i wish to live.
(instead of watching them float by,
as i used to do, drowning myself
in a mud-bath of self hatred day after inevitable day.)

nights are more about
hoping, breathing, praying
to some kind of creator that watches over me,
who i can talk to when my mind becomes an enemy.
(instead of being convinced that my mind is God, therefore i must be
all of the horrible things it said i was: too sensitive, too invested,
too worried, too big, too much.)

jobs are more about
getting up, dressed, and out of the house
to go somewhere for four hours to interact with people,
make someone smile, and even some cash.
(instead of seeing it as a wasteful pastime or a distraction from
myself in order to continue a life of destruction while in disguise.)

friends are more about
less talking, more listening and profound fulfilment for
the few i have and being content with not needing more,
being honest and loyal, accepting that sometimes
people cannot always be physically inseparable but that
does not mean their hearts are not.
(instead of calling myself a failure for not having ten people on
speed dial, not being “popular”, not being a “schmoozer” or “liked enough”, every
******* ego boost story we’ve all told ourselves at one point or another.)

parents are more about
patience, forgiveness and acceptance
for even though i did not have a happy upbringing,
parental stability, or a healthy environment, they did
what they could with what they had and i no longer
wish to be on my deathbed just to prove a selfish point.
(forgiving the very person who gave me life for all the years
of abandonment and neglect is the hardest thing i will ever do,
and am still in the process of. it is a miracle to say though,
that things are significantly better than i ever imagined them to be.)

life is more about
living:
sleeping, eating, moving, watching, learning, sitting, singing, speaking,
listening, crying, smiling, creating, walking, asking, wondering, hoping, playing, detaching.
being at peace with the mundane and calling it growth.
sometimes i’m so filled with life my body feels like a helium balloon that is barely able to stay on the ground. other times i’m so tired i stay in bed
for an entire day doing nothing but worry i am a failure. i am learning to be okay with catching glimpses of who i am, but not always being fully certain. (instead of looking to others to validate my ego, or sense of self i had manipulated so that i could be perceived a certain way.)
**instead of believing the illusions, i choose to challenge them.

I feel most safe when I feel most loved
And I was lucky to feel both
consistently for two months.
Being away from home didn’t mean
I was away from love,
but that distance
gave me the opportunity to really realize
the truth about most things.
You see, it’s an instinct to be lonely,
to feel like I don’t matter.
I don’t have many friends anymore
and those I do have I’ve held onto
because they are the reflections of myself I long to see.
And what I’ve learned is that time doesn’t heal every wound. Not when
wounds are places you’d rather forget and people you are sick of being.
No, it isn’t time alone.
It’s patience and acceptance, a mix of
hope and laughter and awareness.
It’s a lot of energy spent on undoing each intricate lie you’ve ever told yourself.
It’s forgiveness and strength and an outpour of love for everyone you’ve ever known.
It’s detachment and perspective and hindsight.
It’s about knowing that you still have a long way to go.
Time is just there, along for ride.

I feel safe when I feel most loved.
I feel loved when I feel most safe.
Maybe I am both of these things.
Maybe you are, too.

oh and how fleeting this little life can be
i try to hold onto each moment before it becomes a memory
how do we survive each goodbye without unzipping our skin,
stepping out of it and screaming:
COME ON. GET IN.
how do we say i love you without making it sound like
an apology
for every tiny exhale that sounds like a discrepancy
between you and yourself and that voice in your head
you know three is a crowd you know you’re not
better off dead
now somehow it’s February and I am waking up to the rain
whose song is a house that lives in and out of my veins
there have been people i have loved while some adored from afar
i don’t see them anymore but they know who they are
i received a letter from my mother today in the mail
she’s trying to become yet terrified to fail
i tell her she’s allowed to have a thousand breakdowns a day
i tell her she’s a miracle simply because she decided to stay
i’ll never know how we manage to survive each other’s love
it’s too small to hold onto and too big to conceive of
and yet there will be heartbreak, great loss and despair
i am going to keep listening to the sound of what’s there
as for time, well he knows he is a great thief
i made love to him on the nights i was devoured by grief
and sometimes i wish i could go back to my old self and say
that she didn’t have to shatter, that things would be okay
it can never be for sure that all things have a purpose
i try to believe in a God without getting nervous
the universe is holding us in the palm of her hand
just know that you are loved,
you don’t have to understand.

you can find me in old picture frames, hidden
in a box at the bottom of your basement.
you can find me in telephone booths, scouring
my pockets to find the meaning of change.
you can find me in the font of signed birthday cards, stylized
and nonsensical.
you can find me in your ashtray, waiting
to be reborn.
you can find me at the bottom of your coffee cup, a sludge
of accumulated words that fell out of your mouth
each time you go in for another sip.
you can find me in the pages of your youth, smiling
at the illusion of time.
you can find me in the lyrics to each song
that come on in your car as you drive, alone at night
that make you think of how we were.
you can find me underneath the carpet, a stain
that refuses to come out no matter how hard you scrub.
you can find me at the beginning of your dream, camouflaged
with scenes of sirens, snakes and skeletons singing lullabies
that make you forget what you dreamt of when you finally awaken.
you can find me through the eyelet on your door, as i float
above your head the moment you consider opening it.
you can find me in every embrace, every kiss, every promise
you choose to let fade from your needle-pointed memory.
you can find me in your shoe, a rock
that makes each audacious step feel uncomfortable.
you can find me in the ditch, roadkill
that quickly passes you by as you mumble a
“what was that?” to no one in particular.
you can find me beneath the apologies you didn't mean
and the iloveyous you forgot to say.
you can find me amidst the scattered shards of glass
that scour the linoleum floor from the glass of water
that you dropped in a bout of thirst at midnight.
you can find me underneath your pillow case, whispering
reminders like sweet love songs for the self.
the pieces i have left are ripe and over-cooked,
i can only resign myself to the fact
that you may never choose
to look.

you have all the answers
inside of you
but you cannot cure yourself
alone.
you must open your candle palm,
twist the tip, look up at the sun and say,
“do you have a light?”
you must let go of your fear
of being abandoned
and in the warm glow of the cold moon,
ask yourself what you want.
you must find someone who understands you
so you can pull the remaining strands of courage
out of your head and say,
“here. this is my offering.”
do not stay alone.
you are not stranded.
open up, be a little less afraid,
show them your insides.
your bones are not satan’s prey.
find a moment in each day to appreciate
what you have done for yourself,
abandon your hope of ever being perfect.
you have all the answers
inside of you,
but you cannot cure yourself alone.
i was like Icarus once.
my wings are still growing back.
i was Persephone in my moments of disillusionment.
it is hard to come back from the underworld once you fall
into it, like a mousetrap.
traps teach you a lot about the incredible resilience
of the body.
bodies teach you a lot about the magnetic brilliance
of the soul.
i am a Phoenix rising from the ash every time i tell you,
“I love you.”
i am reborn every time i shut
my eyes and open them,
again.

how many times can i beg you
not to forget me
how many moments can i cradle
in the palm of my hand
how many situations can i find myself in
without wanting to get out of them
how many times can i think of you
and wonder if you’re thinking of me, too
how many memories can come back to haunt me
just for me to kiss every ghost
how many times can i make a decision
then turn on my heel and say;
“i’ve changed my mind”
how many people can i take for granted
until they’re not here to take for granted anymore
how many mistakes can i make
without choosing to learn from them
how many planes can i get on
without knowing if i will ever land
how many potential lovers can i come across
without ever actually wanting a lover at all
how many times can i tell you i’m sorry
without truly wanting your forgiveness
how many songs can i play
without feeling like they mean something
how many poems can i write
without even knowing what the **** i’m trying to say
how many fears can i face
without having a back-up plan
how many times can i hope
that you will miss me
how many times can i pray
that out of sight is not out of mind
how many times can i beg
you not to forget me
please don’t
please don’t
please don’t forget
me.
for i don’t know
if or when
i shall see you again.

I looked at the photographs

And felt 

The weight of all of the people
I could have 

Become.

i still feel self hated’s foliage
wedge its way into the garden i am currently trying
to cultivate for myself.
and on most days,
it’s still hard for me to look in the mirror.
but despite how much i still think of dying
it is no longer myself I want to ****. it is the parts
that were trying to **** me.
i can barely remember your lips and
i completely forget how your voice sounds.
and that’s the tragedy i suppose,
once you forget the sound of somebody’s voice
you know that’s really when detachment
is finally setting in and making a home
underneath each and every one of your scars.
i still think it’s sad,
the way it all ended. how you can keep on
loving someone even though they’re long gone
from your each and every day.
i still want to call you, ask how you are.
but i don’t because i’m not that person anymore.
you don’t matter as much to me as you once did.
and i think that’s beautiful because it’s honest.
remember how much we hurt each other?
good. i hope you never forget.
remember how much we loved each other?
good. i hope you always remember.
some things will always be worth remembering.

today i learned that your favourite
colour is red.
(i also happened to be wearing it.)
today i learned that everything i’ve ever wanted to happen
will eventually happen,
but not in the ways i imagined they would.
today i learned that i can love you from a distance,
that i can say it with my eyes and maybe you will
hear me.
(or maybe you won’t but
either way i’m going to keep looking at you.)
today i learned that you care about me because
you told me to put on my scarf so that i wouldn't get cold.
today i learned that love is a language all on its own,
full
of laughter and long embraces and jokes and
spur of the moment decisions and unrequited heartache
and other things
i cannot find words for.
today i learned that instead of being a fool for
not being able to control my heart i might in fact
just be human.
today i learned that every solid foundation was once
a battleground.
today i learned that i could one day maybe trust again but
i am still not ready yet.
today i learned that black friday
is now a thing in Canada.
today i don’t feel so afraid.
today my mother let me read her journal from 1988
(when she was the age that i am right now)
and i learned that i am more like her than i ever
thought i was,
i learned that that might be more of a blessing
than a curse.
today i learned how to use my mind as a camera, that it might
be okay to let so many precious moments remain
undeveloped.
today i learned that i cannot force you to be enamoured with me.
today i learned that i might just have to settle on the fact that my inability to express myself with words has no bearing on how nervous i get when i am around you.
today i learned that there is so much love everywhere.
today i learned that everyone is stunning.
today i learned that there is no such thing as having too big
of a heart.

oh, what a thrill
to want him so bad it makes you ill
a desire so strong it makes you weak
he who ties your ******* knot so that you cannot speak

he whose gaze penetrates your very core
he who makes you forget what your heart is for
you do not tell him, you do not lie
he makes you forget you ever wished to die

she is probably calling him now on the phone
asking him who has been writing these silly poems
he will lay down beside her when he gets home
she will forget the importance of being alone

oh, what a thrill
to want him so bad it makes you ill
a love so unrequited, i must endure
i am reminded why prevention is better than cure

trading:**
scissors for hair
false smiles for real tears
cruel words for honest confessions
draining corpses for supportive souls
loneliness for solitude
the hum of numbness for booming self doubt
pretending for admitting
hard shell for nakedness
anger for sadness
distractions for reactions
avoidance for opportunity
wide open wounds for well deserved closure
indifference for uncertainty
emptiness for openness
hell for health

i’m trading
ingrained habits for a new consistent way of life
i’m really scared.