I speak to you
Through poems I didn't write,
Silence that screams the outcome
Of our lack of action,
And love like a language
You will never understand.

good morning, my angel
my living lullaby
i glide across the fairest skin, you are the fairest one
of all. Good morning, my mother
my broken candle
you gave me the wax that has melted on many tablecloths
i feel I have lost you now, as I had lost you then.
Good morning, my first love
my little bridge
your mittens were warm when I needed heat
when I was so cold the tears froze onto my cheeks.
you ran me a bath a being
of divinity
we held each other in your father’s tub and laughed
at the bubbling abundance, burgeoning in overflow.
I wake to the puddle of your memory
That has grown since we last met, since I have wept
For the love I have not kept in place. Good
morning hindered lover, who worships me in forbidden light
a thousand songs have yet transpired born
from a single thought of you.
Inhibited inspiration,
camouflage constellation, I kiss you now
though I will always be
Years away from where you lie.
Good morning dear father, a forester
Braver than the lone wolf and his
solitary howl. The lesson of the arthritic toe shows you
True appreciation for the pain of existence.
You are the most loyal flame, my gratitude is overwhelming
Each time I embrace the past and the mistakes, unconscious
From the broken record
And its echo off the wall.
Good mourning to the loss of a lover, an ephemeral flame.
Good mourning to the death of a friendship, to the longing for a ****.
Good mourning to the future in its casket,
That awaits a new life for me
In song.

Someone I once loved
Ran his finger across my chest and traced
The outline of my moles and said
"They look like an anchor! When you connect the dots, they are the shape
Of an anchor! You are an anchor. It all makes sense now.
You are going to be okay."

At the time it was like some big epiphany for him,
Like he was telling me something about myself
That I never knew when really, I always knew
It was just
Something I didn't want
To admit. It is something
I have been running away from for a long time now, thinking
I could be an anchor for someone else
Because then THEY could be my problem, my project,
My ocean
So then that way I could leave myself, fallen by the wayside
To wither away, slowly, subtly,
Secretly disappearing.

I am attracted to people who are made of glass,
People who shatter easily, who shatter willingly,
Who are reckless and brilliant, beautiful and dangerous
People who I unconsciously think
I can save.

I can only save myself.
I can only be my own anchor.

I am nowhere near strong enough
To be with someone again
I am so terribly fragile, I break my own heart
So easily. Too willingly.
All I want is to keep realizing things like this,
To admit my mistakes and learn from them, not
Repeat them.
To hold on to the people who keep me on the ground,
The people who actually love me, who don't put me on
Some pedestal where I am liable
To float away.

Because if I'm not careful and let myself
Float away again,
I
may
never
come
back.

i watched blankets of people
rip themselves off of you
one by one by one
you were no longer beautiful to them,
the wrong things became important to you
and so
they left and you
turned cold.

i still find you beautiful
but i have divorced my heart from you
there's not much to say when i see you,
not enough space to feel when i'm around you,
not enough affection to resuscitate
all of the moments you let me drown.

i don't want to hate you anymore, but
i don't want to love you either. both of them are
painful, so i get caught in between.

i wish i could wish you a happy mother's day
and feed into your belief
that you are a good mother, the belief you use to cover up
your deep seated self hatred
but i can't.

i will always find you beautiful
but i won't be around anymore
to tell you that.

i need you to spoon feed me
not with compliments
not with adoration
but with strength and belief in your own self
because that kind of ****
is contagious.

i need you to spoon feed me
not with alcohol
not with food
but with a hey how are you? no how are you really?
because I have lost the ability to tell you, to really tell you
you have trained me to make the unnatural
natural
and that kind of thing is just wrong.

i need you to spoon feed me
not with guilt
not with pity
but with something I can't quite put my finger on,
i need something from you that you've never given
something all mothers must give their child
in order for the child to feel
loved
secure
worthy
confident
comfortable

i need you to spoon feed me
not with effort
not with pain
but with self-forgiveness and unflinching honesty
i need you to love me with no conditions attached
i need you to teach me how to walk without failure
in this cold and terrifying world

i need you to understand me
i need you to comfort me
i need you to
i need you
i need
i

Intuition -

not a thought,
but a feeling.
It's the wild woman inside of me,
that keeps me strong despite
the storm.

It's a strange and sometimes subtle
truth.

It's louder
than ever before.

There is nothing more painful than hearing
The sound of your drunken tears over the phone
You said you were okay
But I didn't believe you and you knew
I didn't believe you
You asked me if I would still bring you cigarettes if you went back to detox
I said, yes of course.
It always comes down to this. I don't have to tell you what it comes down to
Because you already know.
I'll never fall again, you said.
For who? I asked.
For anyone, you answered.
I love you so much, you said.
I love you too, I said.
I'm going to go have a bath.
Okay. Goodnight.
I always wonder when it will be the last time we'll say goodbye.

About a month ago I was waiting inside the lobby of a bank until the bus came. I was just standing there, innocently blaring Regina Spektor in my headphones to drown out my mind as I usually am, when this tall, *****-blonde, pretty handsome boy walked in.

“Hi.” He said, standing directly in front of me, looking straight into my eyes.

“Um… Hi.” I replied, and pulled out my headphones because I didn’t want to seem rude.

“You have really nice eyes. You’re really cute. How old are you?”

“….Twenty One. Why?” I couldn’t help but let out a loud laugh.

“Because you look so young! Can I see your ID?” He asked.

I laughed and laughed and laughed and didn’t know what to do other than laugh.

“You’re joking, right?” I said.

“No, let me see it. Please.”

I should have told him to ******* right then and there but instead I kept laughing and fumbled for my wallet, took out my ID and handed it to him.

“See. I’m not lying.” I said.

“Oh. That’s weird. You look so young. Like at most sixteen.”

“Okay.” I looked out the window and stared at the traffic. The bus should be here any minute. Get here. Get here. Get here. Somebody save me.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” he asked, standing closer to me.

“Um… Nothing.” **** why did I say that why didn’t I just lie **** why won’t he just leave me alone this is so weird ugh why is he getting closer to me.

“Come for coffee with me.”

“HAHAHA! Why?” I laugh.

“Because. Just do it. Say you’ll do it.”

“Um… okay… Are you high or drunk or something?” I ask him.

“Nope. Just really tired. It’s been a long day.”

“Okay well this is just really weird. Like, you’re so confident and so sure of yourself. It’s weird. Not many people just walk up to someone and do this to a stranger.”

“Well I was just passing by and noticed your eyes and had to come talk to you.” He said.

Finally the bus came, we both got on, and he kept asking me questions.

I was trying to ignore how uncomfortable he was making me feel, how insane he was acting, how he was handsome but most definitely not even close to a gentleman, in fact he was the farthest thing from gentle I have ever encountered. He made me feel like an object, like an empty shell stranded on the shore that was waiting for someone, anyone to pick it up and call it beautiful. This was not okay.

But all I could do was laugh, because that’s what I do when I don’t know what to do.

“I know what kind of music you listen to just by looking at you.” He said.

“Oh, really? Guess.” I said and rolled my eyes. No he most certainly does not. Who EXACTLY does this guy think he is?

“Fleet Foxes, Joanna Newsom… You look like a hippy. A small, young, hipster.” He said.

“Well you’re wrong. Joanna Newsom is okay, but no.” I laughed some more and listed about 30 artists he’s only dreamed of listening to.

“Oh. That’s a lot of music. I’ve never heard of them.” He said.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

He inched closer and closer to me until both of our shoulders were suddenly touching.

“Do you want to know who my favourite band is?” He asked.

“Who?” I said, not wanting to know at all but I was getting off the bus soon and didn’t want to end our conversation leaving the impression that I was a *****.

He leaned in close, and whispered into my ear -

“The Strokes.”

I immediately pulled away from him and laughed,

“Why did you have to whisper that?!?!”

“Because I like your mouth.” He said, smiling.

By this time, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, to be flattered or insulted, to slap him or kiss him. Basically I was torn between giving him what he wanted: someone to **** and chuck, or giving myself what I wanted: to get the **** away from him.

“This is my stop.” I said.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” He asked.

“Uh… Nothing.” I said.

“Wrong! You’re going for coffee with me!” He said.

I laughed and got off the bus.

                                                               ­           ———-

About a month later, (which would be probably a week ago, presently speaking), I ran into him on the bus AGAIN and we made eye contact but I chose to ignore him. He did not choose to ignore me, although I wish he did. He came up to the front of the bus, sat beside me and said,

“What’s your name again?”

“….Lyra.” I said.

“Hi, yeah, I thought it would be awkward if I didn’t come say hi.”

“Hi.” I said, and continued looking out the window.

“Hi.” He said.

There was a long pause of silence that satisfied me because I had turned into a porcupine the moment he sat beside me and I was hoping he could feel the sting of my quills lodging themselves into his face.

“I can go… If you want….” He said.

“Well then why don’t you?” I asked.

“You just seem interesting, I don’t know.”

“Well you don’t know me and I don’t know what you want from me but I have nothing to say or give you. So yeah, you should go.” I said.

He gave me an insulted look and went back to the back of the bus where he belonged.

We got off at the same stop which ******, but I didn’t look at or speak to him at all, even as we walked side by side to cross the street.  

I felt relieved, elated, guilty, surprised, empowered, safe, in control.

I felt like a ***** and I liked it.

And I learned a lot from that one small encounter. I learned that being a ***** takes me out of my comfort zone, because I care so much about what other people think of me, I am always trying to come across as “the cute little blonde girl who laughs a lot and is very sweet”. Because that’s easier than being “the self assured woman who doesn’t take anyones **** and sometimes comes across as a ***** who doesn’t give a **** because she only returns the respect she is shown.”

I learned that it doesn’t always have to be one or the other, it is also okay to be both of those girls simultaneously.

I learned that I like attention, but I also like respect. And he made me feel extremely disrespected. I learned that some boys only want a girl for their own personal pleasure. I learned that some boys will literally do and say anything to get pleasure. I learned that it’s okay to stand up for yourself, it’s okay to turn into a porcupine when you feel uncomfortable to get the other person to leave you alone, it is okay to USE YOUR QUILLS.

I thought of all the girls I know, including myself, who have let men use them to get what they want, just to feel beautiful for a fleeting moment. I thought of all the girls I know, including myself, who have been in or stayed in a toxic, abusive relationship just to avoid being lonely. I thought of how sad it is that so many of us hate ourselves that much to let ourselves be used just so we can feel something other than pain for one ******* minute. I thought of how easy it is for so many of us to abandon ourselves like that and how no matter how many times we tell ourselves it’s okay, IT IS NOT OKAY.

I felt sad, but I felt hopeful too.

Because we don’t need someone to tell us we’re cute or beautiful or interesting or **** or funny or talented or special to feel like a ******* human who is all of those things already. We are and always have been, all of those things, regardless of who we are kissing or ******* or loving or talking to at any given moment. It’s nice to be reminded sometimes, but it’s not nice to depend on someone to make us feel like that. We do not need to settle for anything less than someone who ******* respects us and treats us how we ******* ought to be treated.

Most of all, I felt proud of myself.

And I feel like the Spice Girls or P!nk or Alanis Morisette would have been proud of me, too.

you spoke of romance as if it were a disease.
you treated poems like pick up lines.
you said there was no point in writing anything if the writer
did not have an audience.
you asked me who my audience was,
and as soon as i answered your question,
i stopped writing.
it's easy to stop writing about someone once they begin
expecting you to.
i still think part of me was wrong, but most of me was right.
there is a point to writing beyond having
someone who will read it.
it is a desperate demanding kind of feeling
that wishes to remain
anonymous.

you're like a warm sweater straight out of the dryer
you're like a Disney movie on a bad day
you're like the greatest dream of all time without
the disappointment of it not being real when i wake up
you're like the sound of applause after a terrifying performance
you're like a warm bath for an aching body
you're like looking at the sun and the moon in the same sky
you're like a million double takes
you're like the feeling of jumping through giant puddles in polka dot rain-boots
you're like the gold at the end of the rainbow
you're like a mermaid that glistens under water
you're like the first song i ever wrote
you're like puppy-kisses and newly hatched birds and scented candles and poetry
you're like holding a cup of hot chocolate while
wrapped in a blanket sitting by a hand made fire
you're the feeling of watching the first snowfall of the season
you're the feeling of getting 100% on a test without studying
you're like a quote by L.M. Montgomery
you're the feeling of watching a Mississippi thunderstorm
you're the feeling of watching the fireworks at Disney World for the first time
you're the feeling of aching abs after excessive laughter

you are my kindred spirit
may we never grow up.

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.

Being an artist is hard. Especially when you write songs about love and love unrequited and addiction and death and wanting to die and wishing you were loved by the people who put their addictions before you and pain and self harm and hope and disappointment and everything that has made me insane.

The only thing I can do to make myself feel less insane is to write about it.

But as soon as you create something, it’s like “Well what the **** do I do now?”

Normal people would get a grant, make a record, go on tour.

Well guess what? I’m not a ******* normal person.

I have to deal with voices in my head 24/7 telling me I’m a failure, I’m a waste of space, that nobody cares about what I sing or do or make, that I would be doing myself a favour if I just ******* died already.

I have to deal with memories from my ****** up childhood that haunt me every day because my parents were too busy being addicted to alcohol and drugs to actually parent me.

Well guess what? I know that was unfair and sad etc, etc. I don’t want your pity. I know what my mind tells me are straight up lies. Depression is a mental illness and it doesn’t just go away because you’re intelligent enough to know that what your mind is telling you is not true.

But it’s the hardest thing anyone will ever have to live with and it makes it ten times more difficult to muster up enough confidence & self esteem to pursue being a musician, or writer or artist of any kind. Because being alone can be dangerous. I often feel so misunderstood and misheard by other people that I choose to be alone to do both them and myself a favour.

But that’s also *******. Because when you create something, no matter if it’s good or bad, you are giving something to the world that has never existed before.

Do you know how ******* beautiful that is?

What people don’t realize about artists is that the majority of them already are extremely  insecure and feel like failures and ****-ups.

The last thing I need from someone is for them to say:

“Oh, you have over 100 songs, how come you haven’t put out a record yet?”

“Here comes the girl who’s been saying the same thing for the past two years - that she’s ‘working on it.’”

Well you know what? I AM working on it. I don’t have to ******* defend myself to other people when they criticize me by saying things like this. You don’t have to sit hear and listen to me sing. No one is making you stay. They have no idea what I’ve been through, how I’ve changed, how I’m trying to heal, how healing does not come naturally to me. I was never taught how to heal. I was never taught how to live. And what I’m learning is that it is never too late to start trying.

I realize I’m getting older and time is passing but for someone to make some snide remark by commenting on how I seem like a failure is unacceptable, especially when I feel like one already.

My songs are a gift. I know that. I have given them away for free, to many people who, now that I think back on it, never even deserved to have them. Whether they’re jealous or mad or sad or whatever themselves, they don’t ******* need to put their insecurities on me when I clearly have enough of my own to begin with. We’re all human, how about we have some ******* compassion for each other?

There are a lot of things I’m not proud of. I have made many mistakes. I have wanted to die many times, and struggle with finding a reason to keep living daily. But music has always been the thing that has kept me alive. Music is what flows through my veins, and whether or not I “make a record” in the timeframe that people expect me to has nothing to do with what really matters.

Music has no timeframe.

Music has no jealousy or anger or resentment or insecurities.

Music is what saves lives, and I’ve been lucky enough to have the gift of making it and giving it to people in hopes that I can help them in some way. That’s what artists are made to do, help, make life more bearable, to transcend the pain of a ****** up life into a song that you can listen to and say: “****, this song sums it up, man!”

It’s a gift.

It doesn’t belong to you. It doesn’t even belong to me.

So just eat some humble pie and get over yourself for one ******* minute because your criticism doesn’t change the ******* facts and I will be going at my own pace whether you like it or not, thank you very much.

timing is probably the most important thing
in the entire universe
when you really think about it -
it's like when a certain record comes out
and it defines that entire era
of your life
like the summer of 2001 when I was nine,
in the car with my dad on a hot summer day
and he stumbled upon "I'm Like A Bird" on one of the stations,
and we turned it up, rolled the windows down,
and we knew that that song would always be
ours.
and it's truly just so crucial to our existence,
the timing of things -
like when I met this beautiful person on the internet
who soon after became my best friend
and turned my whole life around. but the timing of it
was perfect and had i not met her right on that day of that month
of that year, i probably would not be remotely close
to who i am today.
and I already know that this summer is going to be associated
with Daft Punk's 'Random Access Memories', with "Get Lucky" blaring loud
on every stereo in the city,
it will remind me of Eisley's album, "Currents", and the song "On My Balcony"
by the band, Flunk.
Six months from now when I look back on the summer of 2013,
I will think of those songs and those records,
I will think of how hard I was trying to stay afloat and become
a better person, for nobody but myself,
and how good of a job I was doing with the action
of letting go of things that were toxic for me.
I will think of blonde hair and dancing in the rain, hot sweaty shifts
running around a crowded restaurant, being sad about how much time
I still have left until I get to see my favourite person again, and I will think of
boredom and sunburns and bad poems and love and hope and willingness
to overcome fear. And music. So much music.
This isn't really a poem but more of a very lengthy acknowledgment
regarding the importance of timing, especially perfect timing,
and how even bad timing is usually disguised as
perfect timing in the end.

you have successfully invaded
every aspect of my life
you have polluted my heart
with love for you that will not fade
no matter how much i may wish it to
you have polluted my mind
with every possible destructive thought imaginable
you have polluted my workplace
waltzing in with your
sugar daddy
wearing your new three hundred dollar coat and caked on eyeliner
drenched in chanel no.5 offering nothing but a silent shout as if to say
i am nothing but a *****
you have polluted my life by asking me
to lie for you
giving me a perfect lesson
on the loss of self-respect

i am stripped bare now with nothing to give
but a false slew of giggles and hugs
responding to your
i love you with
an i love you
and always meaning it
but never, ever
saying it first.

to grow out my health
to grow out my self esteem
to grow out my sense of adventure
to grow out my happiness
to grow out my honesty
to grow out my bravery
to grow out my laughter
to grow out my openness
to grow out my vulnerability
to grow out my forgiveness
to grow out my potential
to grow out my inner mermaid
to grow out my trust
to grow out my creativity
to grow out my perseverance
to grow out my patience
to grow out my motivation
to grow out my willingness
to grow out my beliefs
to grow out my soul
to grow out my desire
to grow.

just the fact that you exist
keeps my heart afloat
and puts my mind at ease.

I’m sorry I shut you out and blamed you for my own undoing,

You see I have this cloud that hangs above my head and I had begun

To call it home.

My thoughts and feelings got lost somewhere in the condensation phase,

And I trapped them there, only allowing occasional acknowledgment of the pain

I was in, doing as much as I could so as not to show if or how I had been affected by it,

For I am my own prisoner of sorts.

I let you in my cell to feed me water and gruel, but when you asked to spend the night

I immediately pushed you out and handcuffed myself to

The illusion of accomplishment, for lo and behold, I was there supposedly

Protecting myself, abandoning you before you could abandon me.

Over time, my pride turned to boredom which turned to anger which turned

To loneliness, and I had to place the blame upon someone’s shoulders.

There were no mirrors in my cell, so I chose to blame you

For I had forgotten that I even existed.

Your kindness cut into the unripe parts of me, the parts that were not ready

To be handled so gently, where breathing is slow,

Where each time you blink is like having a windshield wiper wash away the rain

From a car so clarity can enter your veins and visceral rearview mirrors.

I unraveled while you were away, I cried over my million losses while I counted

Your continual successes, I was envious of you,

Gradually falling silent to the truth of everything that had once surrounded me.

I was afraid you no longer loved me, for I no longer wished to be loved

Nor did I feel deserving of it.

That wish was strong and I fell down a long and narrow well

Where you were not waiting for me when I finally reached the bottom.

I stayed there awhile, beneath my cloud, locked in my cell,

With the murky water and unforgiving gruel.

You called down to me from the top, your voice

Your voice

Your voice

Oh but how could I possibly forget?

That voice.

It never left,

It never lied.

I can’t promise you I won’t fall down here again,

For my heart is stubborn and I still haven’t learned

The art of removing that which has been engraved

On this selfish mind.

But for now,

I wish to stay.

i was wearing a black and white
striped dress
one said i looked like beetlejuice
some said I looked like a mime
some said I reminded them of a prisoner
others said I looked like a barcode

i was all of those things
and none of those things
all
at
once

this year*:

the one person i thought was my soulmate left my life without so much as one word

i fell out of love with the first girl i fell in love with

i was reunited with someone i hoped would be my new mother

i was repeatedly disappointed

i met the most amazing friend i only ever imagined having

i quit my job

i got a new job

i fell in love with a pathological liar

i went to my grandfather's funeral

i was lied to by the pathological liar (surprise!)

i was there for her when she went to detox

i was there for her when she relapsed

i had a rather epiphanic moment where i was brought to inexplicable sobs and repeated screams  on my knees saying "help me" in desperate hopes of being heard by some unknowable God

i quit the new job and got hired back at the old one

i lost trust in all humans, including myself

i moved in with my dad

i got to know the depths of fragility

i was manipulated and in turn, i manipulated

i had random panic attacks

i met Regina Spektor

i wrote poems

i wrote songs

i painted

i read books

i drank a lot of coffee

i smoked many cigarettes

i laughed less

i cried less

i felt less

i denied anti-depressants

i worked on letting go of unhealthy persons, including my mother

which lead to learning the repetitive lesson that overnight success does not exist

i booked a flight to Mississippi

i learned how to be alone without being lonely

i became even more infatuated with the moon

i wanted to die,

i'm still alive.

i made mistakes,

i learned from them.

this year has been a whirlwind, a teenage drama gone half right topped with a questionable ending

2013, here i come.

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.

He was lying on the futon, watching Battlestar Galactica. I was in my nightgown sitting in his windowsill, smoking a cigarette, bored, restless & lonely. I stared out the window, looked down at the ground.

“Do you think if I fell out of your window, I would die?” I asked him.

“I don’t know if you’d die, but you would get seriously hurt that’s for sure.” He mumbled.

I took a long drag from my cigarette and looked back out the window. The street was empty and dark. The only illumination came from a single streetlight about half a block from where I was sitting. I stared at that streetlight for a long time, feeling as alone as ever. After a minute or so, I began to feel his eyes penetrate my core. I looked at him. He was all limbs spread in every direction. The flame in his eyes told me more than I wanted to know.

“Do you ever feel like a moth?” I asked him.

“In what sense?”

“I dunno, like do you ever feel like you’re always attracted to something that is out to destroy you in the end? Like no matter where you end up, you find yourself hitting the same lightbulb over and over as if it could save you… When really it will be the death of you?”

He looked at me quizzically. Electricity filled in the gaps between us.

“Why are you thinking about that?”

He reminded me of myself - always answering a question with a question.

I looked back at the streetlight and I could see the silhouettes of insects all around it.

“Oh, I was just noticing the streetlight over there and all of the bugs surrounding it. Don’t you ever feel like that though?” I asked him again.

“Well when you put it that way, I’ve always felt like that, yeah.”

“I have a book of poems that my friend Emma gave to me a while back - there’s a poem in there that reminds me of feeling like that. It’s called ‘the lesson of the moth’. I’d like to read it to you sometime.”

I took a drag from my cigarette and looked at him again. Beautiful, he was in that moment. Just lying there listening to me, I felt like I was being heard for the first time. Battlestar Galactica had then become just a fuzz of white noise. I stared at him in silence.

“What are you staring at?” I smiled.

“You.”

“Why?”

“You’re beautiful.”

I looked back at the streetlight and exhaled a long puff of smoke.

Minutes rolled by. I couldn’t bear to look at him again. I have a hard time being seen.

“Looking at you is like listening to a symphony.” He said at last.

I was caught more by the charm of how he was more absorbed by the moment of me and not the boring television series that blurred in the background, never mind the romance of what had just escaped from his mouth.

Because I knew I wasn’t the first girl he’s looked at like that, and I wouldn’t be the last.

But dammnit, he sure knew how to make my skin melt and my heart burn.

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

i don’t know why i’m here

it all happened so fast, i was in a daze

or perhaps a trance

my legs just kept propelling me in this direction despite

my common sense

though i’m not sure if i even have that

left

i’m sorry i stained your pillow case with mascara

i’m sorry i noticed the bottle of zopiclone sitting on your bedside

i’m sorry i wrecked your perfectly made bed

i’m sorry i’m so needy and stubborn

my legs led me here, i had no choice

i didn’t want this, i really didn’t

it’s just that sometimes i can feel my heart beating

in your chest, which would explain this unrelenting ache because

my body just can’t seem to part with it.

i’m sorry i came here expecting something from you

but i will re-make your  bed,

remove the mascara from your pillow,

and set the alarm when i leave,

leaving no trace of my self

behind, aside

from the invisible fingerprints on your piano keys.

sometimes i seriously doubt
if i will ever recover
from this loss,
this bruise
from losing you.

sometimes i wake up in the middle of the night
to sweat soaked sheets and mascara-drenched pillow cases,
curled up in full fetal-position
and i think about you
and how i'm lucky that i even accomplish falling sleep
at all.

i think that's just the difference between the body and the mind -
the body won't stop contorting itself to match your
dissected heart
just because you did or did not decide to say
goodbye to someone.

and this is why i woke up with a knots like stones
inside of my back,
practically paralyzed
it's like my body is trying to punish me
for going against its
ferocious nature. all it wants
is to be back inside you.

sometimes i seriously doubt
if i will ever recover
from this loss,
this bruise
from losing you.

broken has made a cold home out of me.

-People need you more than you think they do, especially during times of intense personal change. It’s important to watch the people that you love grow and change and move away and make mistakes, and to be there for them 100%. Don’t make it about yourself. Looking past your own selfish wants will do you a lot of good and you will be doing yourself a favour in the end.

-React: cry, scream, throw things, write things you don’t mean, say things you don’t mean and reach out when you need help. Give yourself a limited amount of time to feel pain and suffering. Say to yourself “I am ANGRY about this RIGHT NOW. I am going to give myself an hour, five hours, a whole day to feel this pain." Then let go of it. You can’t be happy again until you feel that pain, and let go of it wholeheartedly. You can’t appreciate happiness without contrast. Life is all about contrast. The day you let that pain define you is the day you are actively choosing not to grow.

-Don’t judge or label yourself for “overreacting." Iain Thomas once said: "The sun doesn’t apologize for being the sun. The rain doesn’t say sorry for falling. Feelings just are.” The sooner you accept this, the sooner you can accept yourself and your feelings just as they are. No strings attached.

-It’s important to abandon the idea that you have of your parents. They are not wiser, more intelligent, more experienced than you just because they created you. They are not heroes, they are humans. They are going to hurt you just as much as you can hurt yourself. Forgive them. Love them. This is what being a family is about.

-Stop expecting people to treat you the way you treat them. Just because you believe in being a good friend to someone doesn’t mean they are going to treat you the same way. Don’t stop being a good friend just because of this fact. Don’t shut off the “come in, we’re open!" sign of your heart just because you’ve been disappointed or hurt one too many times. Your goodness is rare. Just because your heart is too big doesn’t mean it is a flaw. It is unique and special. Cherish that.

-Your siblings need you to be there for them more than you think they do. Make sure you tell them you love them as much as you can, don’t just tell them, but SHOW them. Actions speak louder than words, and trust me, if you actually show them you love them, they will never ever forget the way you made them feel.

-Try not to worry about money too much. I know it’s hard when there are a lot of things you want to accomplish and experience in order to feel like you are living a full life, but money doesn’t have to be one of those things. Just because it is a necessity does not mean it should take away from your potential to be truly happy. Whatever you’re doing to make ends meet is enough. Try to find solace in that.

-A wise friend once told me to live every moment of my life as if I had chosen it. Working a long and tiring shift? You chose this. Be happy you chose it. Having a long and annoying conversation with a stranger? You chose this. Find joy in it. Counting down the days until your next vacation? You chose this timeframe. Find joy in each day before you go away to find joy somewhere else. Have you lost or feel like you are losing someone who is very important to you? Don’t worry. You chose this. Love is not lost just because the person you love is changing. Love is all around. You still have time.

-Give people a lot of chances. People don’t often realize that your presence is actually a huge gift in their lives. There is only one of you, and people will take advantage of you, use you, walk all over you, and be careless with your heart because they don’t realize how precious you are. Just because you're fragile doesn’t mean other people know it too. Forgive them for this. Everyone is doing their best with what they have and it really has nothing to do with you.

-Laugh as much as you can, especially on your worst days. The best feeling in the world is knowing you have not lost your ability to laugh on the days where you want nothing more than to not exist.

-Sometimes it’s important to give more to people than they give to you. You may feel cheap and used at the time, but when you look back on how much you gave to someone, whether it be love or time or conversation, you will realize that they needed it more than you thought they did. This will be a gift that you are unintentionally giving to yourself.

-Be brave. People are going to shut you down and contradict you when you open up to them. This has nothing to do with you. People unknowingly project their pain and jealousy onto others without even realizing it. Misery loves company. The day you stop keeping miserable people company is the day they will try to keep defining you as the meek and miserable person they want you to be, and they will resent you for it. This doesn’t mean you are a bad person. Sometimes it just means that you have to let those people go, even the ones you thought you wouldn't have to. Anyone who doesn’t want to see you happy is automatically someone not worth having in your life.

-Pain is not something to be feared. It’s hard to realize this when you’ve spent a long time trying to numb yourself, but as soon as you stop running away from whatever it is you were trying to numb out, you will see that it’s actually not as scary as you thought it was. Avoiding pain is often scarier than confronting it.

-Have a support system that is not family-based. This is especially hard if you come from an extremely sick/co-dependent family and are used to being unhealthily dependent on family members and are not able to distinguish their feelings from your own. You don’t need to share everything with your family just because they are your family. And often times, you will be doing more harm to them than you realize. Get a therapist. Tell them everything. Make the choice to be more careful with your words and actions around your family. You don’t need a thousand friends to feel supported. Even a twelve-step support group you go to once a week can help. Do anything but stay in the same never-ending cycle of codependent family interactions.

-Try to be as honest as you can, especially with yourself. Even when it hurts.

-Keep a journal. Wake up and write everything you wish you could say out loud down in there. No one has to read it. It doesn’t have to be good. Just get it out. You will feel a huge weight lift from your shoulders, I promise.

-Cherish the people who have stuck around when you were at your worst. Cherish the people who never stopped believing in you when you had stopped believing in yourself. Thank them for not giving up on you. Thank them for teaching you how to not give up on yourself.

-Try not to worry so much. Treat every person and situation in your life the same way you would treat a newborn baby. You will not get from 0-100 in a single day. It is literally one day at a time, especially for those who are trying to get better from extreme trauma, addictions, or mental illness. Be patient with yourself. You are doing the best you can and I am proud of you for that.

-Wherever you are at right now is where you’re meant to be.

it started with me wanting you
to love me
which lead me to wanting you
to save me
which lead me to wanting you
to leave me
which lead me to wanting you
to touch me
which lead me to wanting you
to use me
which lead me to wanting you
to comfort me
which lead me to wanting you
to stop
loving, saving, leaving, touching, using, comforting
me
which lead me to wanting you
to never contact me again.

these desires repeated themselves
more times than i can count
and in the end,
i ran in circles knowing full well
you would never kick the habit
of chasing my tail.

we were silly magnets with each other.
there will always be a place for you in my heart
but some things just have to stop,
for good.

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.

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.

it really is a shame
that you're choosing a life of
secrets and drugs and alcohol and *** and partying
and black nail polish and black eyeliner and black leather jackets
and ego and emptiness and anxiety and insomnia
over
a life
of
three children who are learning how to need you
less and less as the days pass
one by one by one by one
it really is a shame that you're choosing that life over
one
of
potential and talent and adventure and music and laughter
and a daughter who is wondering
why she still has so much love left in her heart for you and
where to put it when you're
vanishing into nothingness,
blackness,
right before her eyes,
it scares her.

where do i put all this love when the person who it's meant for
is going
going
gone?

but i'm still here, and i guess
you are not but
i am still here
i am what i started with
and i am what i end with

it really is a shame, though
that you are letting all this precious love go to
waste.

you return to the house
 of ghosts
that have taken up
 residence in haunting

you wander into the backyard

you stand on each of the graves

of all of the people you have been

that you have laid down to rest

so long ago

you take a step closer

to the newly blossomed lilac tree

that you planted

on a day you were trying

hard not to be a ghost

the scent of beauty surrounds

everything
 and suddenly
death
 is not death

but an underwater birth

where drowning is blooming

and breathing is drowning

you pluck a lilac

you bring it home

you put it in a vase

and you smell it
until you can’t 
anymore.

divorce
is like sitting in a waiting room for 3 years
with tape placed over your eyes and mouth
so all you can do
is listen to
the war wondering
what will happen who will win and when
you can start to feel something again.

i inherited an entire library
full of books that offer explanations
as to why you are incapable of loving me.

the romance section was laughable,
giving me bullet point commentaries
as to why i am doomed to never
be loved or feel loved again,
reasons why i settle for beautiful boys who
enjoy my company because i'm quirky, cute, time killer material,
not anchored, solid, strong, soulmate material.
but that's just it, i guess, no one can deny it-
(everyone knows when they are in the presence of precariousness.)

the mystery section offered me nothing but
a full buffet  of questions i already had,
questions that always seemed to give clues to future answers,
delicious questions that tasted sweet at first
then turned suddenly sour,
questions that made me understand the meaning
of a deceptive cadence.
(these books made me wish i didn't leave fingerprints
on everything i touch.)

the fiction section made me feel like a child again,
these were the books that reminded me why hope
is and has always been my favourite bedtime snack.
(these were the books that reminded me that just
because i couldn't make you love me did not mean
that i couldn't make believe you love me.)
since i've stepped out of my fins every step has made me wish
for the courage to throw myself into the sea,
to dissolve in an instant,
to be a daughter of the air forevermore.
(perhaps Hans Christian Anderson was the only person in the world
who knew just how much it hurts to be a human being.)

the self help section gave the illusion of answers,
the way a fortune teller with a foreign accent
doused in flattery and jewelry might seem.
i have spent hours of my existence with these books,
laying on my stomach, furrowed brow, fingers turning white
from clutching the ballpoint pen for dear life thinking
maybe if i just keep
underliningunderliningunderlining
things will start to make sense again.
(because, don't you know? the more you underline
the parts of your life that are relevant on paper,
the closer you are to having figured out your life so perfectly
you eventually will walk by these books wondering
which unfortunate person you should donate them to.)

i inherited an entire library
full of books that offer explanations
as to why you are incapable of loving me.
i think maybe there are some things
that we are never meant
to know.

I'm very good
At putting all my hopes and dreams
In someone else's hands
And watching them slip through
That persons fingers
Like sand
I'm clumsy and fragile
And I hate myself too much
To own up to my own desires

I'm very good
At making people fall in love with me
For the pure benefit of my ego
To make sure I have some kind of comfort left
At the end of the day
Because waking up and finding a reason to live
Is difficult, and most people I'm around
Don't understand that

Why the delay?
They ask
Hasn't it been like three years and you've done
Nothing?
Yes, I'm getting older
I'm getting braver though too
I'm easily impatient
They don't understand
I love too hard too fast  too soon
I give and give and give
And I lose, too.

I'm very good at hiding
The difficulty of days where it is
Physically impossible to get out of bed
And in the meantime,
Time is watching me from above
Adding up each failure and using
Other human beings to remind me
What I could potentially
Be throwing away
While I'm sitting here watching
A silent film about sand
Slipping through
Fingers running
Out of popcorn.

i think there is a glitch in my mind, perhaps it's a common glitch
in other humans minds too
but this glitch somehow seems to erase
every lesson I've ever learned about how to let go of someone
i should have let go of a long time ago, the one that teaches you how
to drop all
attachments and expectations
how to be content in living without always
needing.

i learn this lesson repeatedly, i love you, i'm there for you,
i get hurt by you because you do not respect or value
me at all
because you are selfish and do not know the power
of your words and actions or
lack thereof.

so i let go of you and feel weightless and free
not needing to make sure you still love me.

but then time passes and somewhere in this timeframe,
a few days, sometimes weeks
give or take
my brain resets itself, perhaps sometime in the middle
of a nightmare
and it's like waking up
with a head full of glue
that's when i start to miss you

and miss you and miss you and want you and need you
and silently cry at random times like at work or
on the bus
and i get so weak and needy and i seem to come to the conclusion that
i cannot stand on my own two feet if you aren't there to hold
me up
and it's all a lie, but it's a repetition and it doesn't seem to get old
and it's frustrating because i cave in every time, i go
running back to you
until you hurt me again and then
the lesson is re-learned

only to be forgotten again,
repeat.

all my life you have had such power over me,
and it isn't fair,
it is no way to live
it's suffering in its purest form
and i end up punishing myself for it

note to self:
you are not the air i breathe,
even if you gave me life
even if i gave you stretch marks.

what is wrong with me?
why can't i just learn from getting hurt and not repeat
the same mistake?
why can't i just live without you
for goodness sakes?

i want to be strong, i want to wake up and not always be
craving something, someone
i want to look in the mirror and not cringe at
what i see
i want to look at the sky and not have to wonder
if you still love me
i want to rise from the ash and not be ashamed
of how other people might despise me for it.
i want to live without the need for constant validation.

i want to love myself,
i want to be whole again.

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.

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 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.

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.

being a parent
is probably the most selfless act imaginable
there are a lot of ****** parents
who decide to check out early
mothers who play house
and stay home and cook and clean and make
lunches for their kids like a good little housewife
pretending to be happy
pretending their marriage is
functional
until all the pretending starts to be too much
and the bottom falls through

then divorce
then choosing
then triangulation
then "please don't tell your dad" because they choose
the lifestyle of a good liar
over one of a good parent

if i was an only child perhaps it wouldn't be
so hard
but there's still
karate lessons,
life lessons and growing pains
and when one parent takes on the job of
two parents and doesn't run away
from that struggle, from that truth
well that is the most selfless thing there is

i hear young people say
"i don't ever want children. I hate children."
and I laugh because sometimes
**** happens
and you have to make a choice
but there are a lot of ****** parents
who had ****** parents
and the legacy continues

but perhaps accidents like that
are a blessing in disguise
if you choose to put yourself aside for one minute
to be selfless enough
to change
for the sake of the being you chose to
bring into this frightening world.

sometimes i watch
eternal sunshine of the spotless mind
over and over again
on the days when missing you
hits me right in the face and makes me want
to call you, see you, hug you
to replenish the memories i have of you.
it makes me wonder if having you
erased from my mind would make this
whole thing easier, this new
chapter of my life.
the letting go, the detaching.
getting into the habit of walking by flowers
and not plucking their petals to see
if you still love me or not.
the realizing that it doesn't matter if you still
love me or not,
but being frustrated with the not knowing
anyway.
i don't want to erase you from my mind
out of hate or spite or resentment.
i want to erase you because the desire to go back
and do things over again is stronger
than the desire to accept things for how they turned out
and move on.
i don't know if it's missing you
or missing the person i was when i was with you
that is driving me crazy.
i think it's a little of both but mainly just the fact
that i want to tell you i'm sorry
without it seeming useless.
i feel you in my heart still and i guess i just want
you to know that.
but i also want to forget that because it hurts.
so i watch
eternal sunshine of the spotless mind
on repeat
to forget about it all,
if only for a little while.
why is everything always so intangible and bittersweet?

i wish i could invite you
to my friends show tonight
i wish i could introduce you to everyone who has ever made me feel
worthwhile
and have you say,
"I'm so happy you have found people who love you the way I never could,
sweetheart."
and then watch the smile dissolve
from your face.

i noticed everything.
i noticed the way you texted me multiple times
after we first met, asking to hang out
one day earlier than the day of our date apologizing
for your impatience.
i noticed the way you called me beautiful and were quick
to recite a poem when i asked you to,
but you didn't know i only asked you to
to fill in the space where i did not know how
to speak.
seduction is boring when it's easy
or perhaps most boys are easy
but either way, i didn't want you to attack my mouth
as soon as i sat on your couch.
i didn't want you to walk me to the bus stop
and i didn't want to always be holding
your hand just because i was walking beside you.
i noticed everything.
i noticed the way you rambled on and on
about your wealthy parents who are still
happily married, about your younger sister
who you don't get along with, and about the
extraordinary places you had been to
throughout your life.
i noticed the way you didn't listen when i told you
that i write poetry every day
and i noticed the way you didn't ask me once
if you could read it.
i noticed the way you tried to pay for the bill
until i handed you 40$ because you weren't expecting
it to be that expensive, i noticed the way you kept saying
"i wish you could stay longer" every time i mentioned
that i had to go home soon.
i noticed the way you talked about yourself
and i noticed the way you looked at me
like i was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.
but i'm not and i never will be, and i was flattered
but i'm not yours and i don't want
to talk to you anymore and that probably makes me out
to be a ***** but i don't really care because
i'd rather be laying in the sun reading a book about Beethoven
than laying in your arms noticing the various ways in which
i feel like a bruise on a very ripe banana.

one of us is going
to die

which one will you
let it be?

no, darling. i do not hate you.
yes, darling. i am forgiving you. i am purging
myself of all resentment, hate, anger, conflict, and hurt
i am sweating it out, i am accepting how life is
as life is right now. ***** the idealistic idea of how i wish it were.
life is what it is and that is
enough.
you are enough.
the Mediterranean sea is in my eyes,
I am inviting you to come swim in them. I am asking you
to never dry off. You can breathe under the water
in my eyes. I promise I won't let you
die. Well, the good parts
at least, for death is a requirement for
healing. I can feel parts of me
dying with every passing day,
in a good way, in the way an undiscovered insect dies
so that their body can be used as fuel
for their young.
yes, darling I still love you.
no, darling you do not need to be perfect.
Come, dive into my eyes. can you feel the fresh sea water
embracing your skin? Are you smiling yet?
Take a deep breath and know
that you can breathe here forever,
a mermaid child that lives in the bluest eyes
of the purest heart. i promise i will let nothing
keep us apart.

that music brought me back
to when i was sixteen and still in love with him
the year the words “let it die” should have been tattooed
in black letters across my entire face,
and the remaining years after that
up until he left for good.
that setting brought me back
to that one summer when i was
trying very hard to limit my recklessness
to a small cough or a sedative,
until it seeped out
and the stains on my hands gave me away.
i wanted to look over and sing the lyrics
with you but you were lost in your head,
you were somewhere else.
i wanted my friend to put her arm around me
and say “i am so glad we are here together” but
my friend is somewhere else, as everyone seems to be
lately. i don’t know why
loneliness swallows us so wholeheartedly
when we are among a crowd of people,
inhaling their silence and laughter and meaningless
chatter. i wanted to float up into the magenta sky,
i wanted to feel my wings carry me up and over
the city skyline,
i wanted to disappear into the abyss
of music itself.

i simply cannot fathom
going out every single
saturday night
the world is cold and vicious enough as it is,
and we all know
that nighttime is different universe,
alcoholics covering up their scars with the slogans like
"i'm young and i'm allowed to have fun" or
"YOLO!"
bars full to the brim with
**** yous and what's your numbers and i'm-in-the-mood-to-start-a-fight-bro
don't  get me wrong, it is fun
to go out sometimes
but after a while it gets old
because the world is cold and vicious enough as it is
i much prefer sleeping or
curling up with a book and a blanket and a hot mug of tea
cuddling with solitude while listening
to Sufjan or Regina or Elliott or Joni
or watching a disney movie,
where i feel safe,
clinging to a place
where the world won't ruin me.

"You should never have set the thermostat to 'off'! Now my pipes are frozen & have no water!"

You should never have continued putting your alcoholism
Before all of your children
You should never have had to leave your job because you
Shoplifted and they let you off easy
You should have never taken away my house key because I
"Didn't deserve to have that privilege"
You should have been there for me when I told you
I wanted to die and that I needed you
You should never have asked me to lie to the one person I wholeheartedly trust
For the sake of protecting nothing & only further enabling your
Long-term delusional mind
You should have never given birth to me in the first place
If you planned on staying eighteen years old forever.

If accidentally leaving the house with freezing pipes and no water is the best way to say
*******
Without actually saying it,
Then so be it.

(Sorry I'm not sorry.)

i cradle courage

while i can. By the grace of

God, I can do this.

it was a painful transition,
the adjustment
of not having you in my life
anymore
thinking our story was over
not aware that it was
to be continued
I was prepared for twenty years or more
of silence
and now that you’re back
and trying again
I do admit
that I am still
expecting the worst
because I know all too well
how fast things can change
I’m expecting you
to leave again
I don’t know any other
way to feel safe.
I love you
and even though needing you
is purely unavoidable,
I don’t know if I will ever
stop trying
to avoid it.

the heat is turning us into
*** crazed
hazed out junkies
looking for our next fix
of some kind of switch
that will turn our power
back on just so we can sleep
in a working refrigerator
long enough to remember
what winter feels like
until we get so numb we
start biting our lips until they bleed
pleading with the grinning dentist
to inject us with reverse freezing
we’ve all got a mouthful of cavities
with all the words we can’t bear
to say
words we keep swishing around
in our mouths like mouthwash
as if it were the cure
when we all know
prevention is better than any cure
there ever was
remember when I told you that?
remember when you wrote a song about it?
it’s a song you tossed into
a wishing well as deep as my fading
desire you tossed it so quick
as if the illusion of a clean slate
would change you and your fate
I suppose it did, in a sense
you can change your life
whenever the ******* want to
and you wanted to
and you did I was just a kid
disguised as an embryo
**** **** *******
on the *** of denial
you said “babe, I know you just
wanna be on fire"
and I said yes and doused myself
in gasoline and said
"light a match" and ran
but you could never catch me
because I became
a map
just so I could prove
that all was not lost after all
you were just a teeny tiny sigh
in the cathedral-like brothel of introspection.