So you're asking me what I wrote poems about?

About questions asked, but never answered
about remembering, or being someone new
about love, about treasure
about life, about you

Pain is the fine line between reality and depression.
It is the temptation to pick up the blade and cut again.
It welcomes the buzz that alcohol brings;
Pain is the lighter that helps me light my vice.

Pain is the sadness that hides behind a fake smile.
It is the hollowness that dulls the eyes.
It sprinkles bitterness in my laugh;
Pain is the scars that defile the body.

Pain is the cold winter wind that blows at night.
It is the darkness that chokes me when I'm alone.
It poisons my dreams and taints my sleep;
Pain is the weight that encumbers the beginning of each new day.

Pain is the need to call you on the phone but knowing you won't answer.
It is the "seen" icon followed by no reply.
It ties my stomach in a knot when I think of you;
Pain is feeling ignored and fading away.

World, concealing and revealing
Elegant appearance
Forgetfulness of matter
At the revealing, heavenly
Dark clouds fail there
Majestic and radiant
World opens up
Spreads out wings of imagination
Worlds interact
A new world arises
My world resists to be the same
Earth resists incorporation
An embrace is welcomed
A new world opens up.

i like everything about you just the way you are as you are when i met you. point blank.

i don’t have any preconception of who you feel you once were but aren’t now, that you wish you still were. that person doesn’t exist in my mind. the past doesn’t settle into my conscious. it’s just faint musings of something that doesn’t seem real or tangible to reality.

the person you currently loathe, i adore. the person you pine after, i feel nothing for other than what i feel about you now, because i don’t see him and you as separate or different selves the way you do. you are you. no matter what you perceive yourself as being, you are yourself perfectly.

and yet at the same time actually, i see you as very separate internally, with the work you’ve been doing, even if you don’t totally see that yet, because i know if him and i met when he existed in that state of mind we have both previously occupied in loneliness, neither of us would have been able to make sense of the other the way we can now. we both would have been too lost.

if that makes any sense. self vs internal self. treading water vs being swallowed alive. together vs loneliness. you vs a shell of who you are now.

it’s such a complicated balancing act but i wouldn’t have it any other way. when we backslide we are betraying no one but ourselves, even when it feels like we’re accomplishing and internalizing something greater than ourselves. we’re emptying our lives with our bodies, and it’s not fair to the selves we’re struggling to keep intact now for us to do that. we have things to live for. you have things to live for.

i like you now, not then. even if you see things flipped around. i don’t see any see-saw or scale that tips or drops to equal self-acceptance, nowadays with this disorder, i just see an hourglass. i know. i know it’s not that simple. but you’re the only one who sees value in what was. the people who love you now don’t see that, only how it has hurt and tortured you for far too long, and how much the person you are right now deserves to be free of it.