I sometimes stare
at the people in my lives
how much pain and frustration
did they have to survive
I've met too many people
who deserved the
world on a silver platter
what good is a place
that can't distinguish
the good from the bad
why should I offer
myself to a world
that is so unforgiving
I understand life
is both a balance of
happy and sad
but the scales tilt
so easily
it's hard not to feel
buried under the
overwhelming sense of guilt
I cannot fix my friends or family
let alone myself
where do I rest all
my worries
if everyones already
brimmed to the tip
with too many emotions
that could push
any of us over the edge

you were always beautiful
from the time you linked together
the stars into new constellations
and the moment you broke
yourself apart just to mimic them
some would’ve called it insane,
others art
the time you inhaled angel dust
in the car parking lot
and kissed the first boy
who came close to you
and had some kind of warmth
I remember seeing you in
the school restrooms swallowing
pills you said helped
all your problems
you never confided in me
I tried not to take it to heart
I felt like no one could ever
understand the lovely way
you used to fall apart
some days you disappeared
and never replied to me
other nights I would wake up
to you calling me
I would find you on the street
like a letter that never
made it it to it’s destination
a mysterious manifestation of
a stranger’s thoughts
your beauty never came
with understanding
I was always left in
the dark

and here i am again
at the intersection
of pedestrian language
& old wives tales
swallowing gum
like 7 year memories
opening umbrellas inside
cause i can't seem get away
from all of this rain
i ******* with my left hand
cause i was told
back in highschool that
"it feels like someone else is doing it"
it gets me wondering
about the difference between
losing you and finding out
that some one else found you
or my sleep
or lack thereof
its starting to tear me apart
i keep having this dream
where you are in
an unfamiliar body of water
trying to wash my poetry
off of your hands
or the one where
something happens in my chest
every time you sit
on someone else's bed
i'm tired of feeling like something you've misplaced
but don't have the heart
to look for anymore
tired of you saying my name
like you're trying to bury it
i'm tired of wondering
if you can tell the difference
between the absence
of my voice & silence
the other day
i almost started sobbing
at work when a woman
asked me about
our equipment
i was explaining how
things come apart
and almost mentioned your name
it made me think
of how you used to say
things like "what would you do
if i showed up on your doorstep
one day?" now, i haunt
the windows in my house
i don't leave for weeks at a time
i sit on the porch like the dog
you didn't shoot behind the shed
the one that refuses to die
until you come home again
i told somebody once, that
you didn't even know
what my voicemail sounded like
i wonder if they thought
it was because you
are so important that i never
let it ring that many times
before picking up
or if you dont know
what it sounds like
because you've never called
you can't be the ****** weapon
and the search party
i'm tired of all the seats
to the ferris wheel in my chest
being empty
tired of your voice
being the one i look for
in abandoned places
that one sound i beg
to bounce back
down vacant hallways
i just seem to stand there
in all of that quiet
like someone looking for a mistake
on an eviction notice
so i guess the hardest part
isn't letting go
it's forgetting
you ever had a grip
in the first place
and since you've been gone
i wonder if when
you pushed yourself away from me
you used your left hand
so it felt like someone else did it