I'm not good with my words,
or my abundance of feelings.
But I do know when I feel something,
and I've never felt anything like what I feel with you,
when I'm hiding from the world inside your arms.

Disappointment hits my like a brick,
I don't know how to do this.
Being alone is not something I'm good at,
something I've never been good at.

Thoughts crowd my mind like bodies crowd the chaos that is Times Square.
I want nothing more than to fall back into the comfort that I once knew,
that comfort that no longer exists.

Where are you now?
And I'm so sorry.
I cannot think of anything besides borrowed lyrics to describe how I feel.
I cannot think of words to think the betrayal that I feel,
this year has been rather tumultuous,
and I thought you'd be there to catch me when I fell.

I'm falling.

Where did you go?

for the way that I feel.
How my insides feel hollow,
and how my eyes look empty.
I don't know when we went from comfortable to nonexistent.
We both live in the past,
hide in memories from summers long ago,
when we cared the same amount,
wanted each other terribly,
when we were both happy.
Before sadness consumed me,
before this hollow feeling became something other than a visitor.
I need a word for how I ache to hear you say my name,
for how I feel when I say yours,
how I need to resist myself from telling stories about you.
There's no word for the way I feel,
maybe a combination of words could try to do it justice.
I need a word for how I feel,
I need you to say the words to tell me how you feel.
I'm lost.

It rained in the city today,
and for the first time I didn't rush to tell you how badly I wished I were with you.
How badly I wished to be curled up next to you,
watching a movie,
laughing at your stupid jokes,
talking about the memories and the people from home.

I wonder if that means something.
I find it funny that I used to count each month as something special,
now we just round up to the closest year (two).

I wonder why you can't hear me when I talk to you,
why you can't do simple things like text me back,
or call me on the phone.

I could drown myself with memories from last year,
the phone calls,
the harsh words,
the times when I was the one who was too busy to talk.
But I try not to.

I don't know when things changed,
when you got too busy for me,
and when I decided to care too much
and then not at all.

It rained in the city today.
And I didn't think of you,
not even a little bit,
not at all.

the dark makes it seem even colder.
Tomorrow it will never go above freezing,
and I know that all I will be able to think about
is the warmth I find in your arms.
My heart will beat steadily and slowly,
waiting to feel yours beating alongside it,
I guess it doesn't know it won't happen anytime soon,
that the cold day will pass without any sort of embrace.

That's like telling the sky that it's blue.
It's a well known fact that doesn't need to be said aloud.
I came to terms with it long ago,
you should do the same.

Yet here we are,
I don't know if you're saying it because you're only just realizing it,
or if you're saying it to hurt me,
to disarm me,
to make me more vulnerable than I already am.

You're the one who chose to love the crazy girl.
I never chose to be crazy,
it is just something that happened-
I'm pretty sure it's genetic-
it's the way I am.

Love me for my crazy ways,
or not at all.
You know I'll be waiting for your answer,
I'm crazy,
after all.

is a feather.
It falls,
so gracefully,
dancing
in the air
until
it hits the floor,
soundlessly.

I've written you countless poems,
I'm sure you've never taken the time to read them.
I speak what I feel,
I never keep anything inside.
So why are you having so much trouble reading me?

I'm an open book.

Even in this ever bustling metropolis it is easy to feel alone.
I never thought I would ache to be home,
to drive along the oceanside with the heat blasting in my car.
I always thought I was better than that.
But right now the ocean is calling me,
or perhaps it is the moon,
its waxing and waning signaling me to return home.

I've written you many times:
poems
letters
messages.
I get none in return,
just empty promises.
How much longer do I have to hold on to the smallest things?
Love can only do so much.
I know,
I live in the past far too often.
I have a habit of holding grudges,
but what can I say,
it's genetic?
I can't let go of things that were said and done,
on your end- not mine.
I need something to make me forget.
I need a great love,
declaration of feelings.
Will that ever happen?

The monotony of life makes me crave interaction-
a conversation, a hug, even a smile will suffice.
Cold shoulders can only be defended against for so long before you start to shiver.
A small ache for a warm conversation soon turns to a sharp pain.
Nighttime goes by,
moments when you reminisce of times there was someone to hold you,
it all seems so long ago.
Reminders of love visiting again are great,
but it seems so far away.
How lonely can one person get in a matter of days?

In the whirlwind that is the city,
is it strange that I ache for you to be with me?
I'm surrounded by people,
but I wish to be with those who know me best.

Tired eyes tell me to rest,
my brain tells me to resist.
Which do I listen to?

Do I venture back out,
into the life of the city?
Or do I settle down for the night,
and pick up a book?

I don't know what to call it.
I've never had a shortage of feelings.
Anger runs rapid in my brain, continues on until it hits a wall,
and gives up.
Sadness lurks behind every corner,
waiting to make an appearance in my day,
waiting to see what it can do to me.
Happiness attempts to be prevalent,
it shines its pretty face,
tries to fight of the others.
It's a whirlwind of feelings in my mind.
I'm sorry,
I can't help it,
I don't know what to say anymore.
There is no excuse,
but I was never taught how to fight off all the feelings.

What is love?
Why are we so quick to define?
Love takes time.
Like a plant,
it needs sunlight and water,
needs to be cared for a nurtured.
I've been saying it's love for a long time,
when is it strong enough to be defined?

It was a test,
I wasn't sure if we would pass.
Roles reversed,
I thought I would be the bad guy,
call it quits after all we've made it through.
That's not the case.
I just want you here with me,
I want you by my side,
on these busy streets,
of the city that never sleeps,
I want you with me in New York.

What happens when you leave?
I've learned the contours of your body so well,
I know them better than my own.
What happens when I leave?
I've learned your volatile emotions better than my own,
what happens if I can no longer handle them?
To leave would be leaving this place I call home,
travel to a foreign country,
get lost for a while.
What happens then?
I have felt lost for so long,
but somehow I found my way to you.
Your embrace is my home,
my sanctuary.
What happens when it ends?

I am submerged,
drowning.
Trying to find the surface,
but it's coated in ice.
I reach my hands up trying to find air - all I feel is ice,
it's relentless,
I will never be free.
Something is always trapping me.

There's a darkness in you,
it bubbles and boils under your skin.
I see it sometimes,
in words spoken in the heat of the moment,
when you set the smoke detector off while cooking us dinner.
It scares and intrigues me,
like an electrical socket to a toddler,
I tell myself it will hurt if get too close,
but I cannot help myself.
I want to see every part of you,
even the angry ones.

I seemed to have lost the map that directed me to you long ago,
I take turns down random streets to try to find you.
I see memories of us laughing as I drive around this town,
trying to find my way into your good graces,
back into your heart.
I don't know what happened or when it did but something changed,
I opened the windows as I flew down the street and the map sailed out the window.
I didn't realize until it was too late.

I am afraid.
Of what I don't know,
of the feelings I haven't felt,
and of the people that I've never met.

I am afraid.
There is evil everywhere.
Kindness is rare.
Even under my rooftop,
mercy is never shown.

I am afraid.
To hurt those who have hurt me.
To protect myself when necessary.
When do you deem an act as self defense?

I am afraid.
I have never lost anyone,
only emotionally, never physically.
Death touches everyone eventually.

I am unafraid.
I seek change as I venture into the unknown.
I plan only the basics of my future,
go into everything open minded,
hope that the right path is led to me.

I am still searching.
I am afraid.
Of finding nothing
and wandering aimlessly.

I don't know where it ends.
I can't picture myself without you,
but I don't know how I can keep you in the picture.
I can't imagine ever calling it quits,
saying the past year was wasted,
saying we never want to see each other again.
I can't imagine life without your house around the corner from mine,
but I know that it will happen soon.
I can't imagine life without you to hold,
but I know forever isn't real,
the end is closer than we think.

I'm surrounded by a world of pretentious posers.
They hide behind the title 'hipster'
They don't hide behind brand names,
they hind behind thrift store clothing,
they call themselves authentic.
How can you be authentic when you take the ideas of others,
change a few words,
and call it your own?
I am surrounded by a world of posers,
wondering if I should submit and head to the nearest thrift store.
I am trying to figure out who I am,
find myself in everything I see,
figuring out what I like and what I don't.
I don't know where I am.
I read the poetry of Plath and feel like we share similar thoughts.
I am not Plath, I cannot be Sylvia,
I won't end my life with my head in an oven.
I am not depressed,
at least I don't think I'd call it depressed.
I don't know what I am,
I can't label it.
When I try I am afraid to,
I dont want fall under the category of pretentious poser,
but I am afraid that's where I am headed.

I thought they said that distance makes a heart grow fonder?
But somehow miles seem much longer than they used to.
The space between has grown.

Unfamiliar to me are the surroundings you now call home.
I had thought your home would always be the one around the corner from mine.
I thought they said that distance makes a heart grow fonder?

You bury your discontent under a heap of lies;
Never enough time to call, stamps are too expensive; don’t expect letters anymore.
The space between has grown.

I’m reaching out into darkness.
It seems like you're across the country, not a few states away.
I thought they said that distance makes a heart grow fonder?

Honesty has become inimical, denial is now our close friend.
We didn’t seem to notice the change happen, once we did we tried to cover it up.
The space between has grown.

It seems that we have changed, grown up in very opposite ways.
We let two hundred twenty six miles define us, change us, it has successfully destroyed us.
The space between has grown.
I thought they said that distance makes a heart grow fonder?

I cannot save you,
cling to me to keep you afloat and you will find my skin is too slippery to latch on to and that you will certainly drown.
I try hard to keep my own sorrows at bay,
I cannot help defend you from yours.
I am sorry, I am too weak to protect both you and I,
my smile falters easily and if you look long enough you will see that my happiness is a facade.
I was unaware that you faced your own demons,
that you, too, were drowning in the same sea as I.
Perhaps if we joined forces we could keep the monsters away.
But instead, you are hundreds of miles away,
throwing swears at me when I say the wrong thing,
not letting me see your scars,
not letting me know your pain.
You caught me off-guard this time,
you didn't let me know when you were caught in the quicksand,
you only let me know once it swallowed you whole.

I want to tell you that it is going to be okay.
It's not
I can't lie to you
(I'm scared)
What does the future hold?
I have no idea
All I know is no matter how many miles are between us,
you will always be on my mind.
Whether you are right next to be or a hundred miles away,
you are on my mind.
It is a scary thing for the future to be so up in the air.
Everything is uncertain
Nothing is permanent.
Who do you trust these days?
No one but the dog.

Blame is heavy;
it seems you've forgotten that.
You put the blame on me without thinking that maybe I can't bear its weight.
It seems to not enter your mind that it could crush me.
We both know I'm not strong
(at least, I thought you knew that)
I am weak minded,
I used to be strong hearted.
You broke that long ago.
The love that I had for you,
the love for you that was in my genes,
has somehow disappeared.
I lay in bed at night,
aching for you to care,
hoping that maybe one day you will try to call me.
You don't.
It's been two weeks without a single word.
The last words you spoke were angry,
you shouted as you mercilessly put the blame on me.
It seems that you forgot to take it with you when you left.

Old photographs taunt me.
They show a time where everyone was happy,
a time that I have no memory of.
I look at photos and am forced to imagine what it must have felt like,
to have everyone under one roof,
happily.
To be a normal family.
Nothing like the mess we are today.
I have vague memories from before the separation.
I remember a certain argument,
where they were shouting so loud,
I had to lead my sister outside.
We sat under my colorful umbrella,
I read my American Girl Doll book about divorce.
I don't remember how they told us what was going to happen.
I don't even remember the day my dad moved out.
I'm not sure how, I wasn't even that young.
Maybe I erased it from my memory.
History is repeating itself.

I am alone.
I am afraid.
I am sorry.
I am a disappointment.
I never meant for it to be this way.
I just wanted a happy family.
I am unsure of what I did.
I sometimes wish I was never born.
I wish you could be happy.
I wish you didn't hate me.
I wish I didn't hate you.
I wish we could keep up the facade for a few more months.
I wish I had paid attention.
I wish I had a plan.
I wish I was smarter.
I wish I wasn't such a disappointment.
I am sorry you don't want me.
I am sorry you have to defend me.
I am sorry to be causing so many issues.
I am sorry.
I am afraid.
I am alone.