Fractured pavement leaves chipped grooves
Splintered fingers and dwindling expectations
Beads of sweat slither down a revealing spine
Bones and movements that have grown all too familiar

This soul wishes to detach and disappear
To smoke away the memories and gaze at the simple blackness in the flames that take them away
Lungs that combust with dreadful explosions
As the fuel from your aura ignites with flammable words

And so I write
*To watch you burn

I saw the aurora lights in your eyes
Fresh streams and salty tides
I tasted strawberry fields in your lips
The sweet tongue of coconut as it splits
I swayed the tepid summer grass along your spine,
Gliding leaf petals in your hair, as we sat in the strong branches of this Ponderosa Pine

The place where I now go alone to ponder of you
Today, my vision only grows blurry, as it crowds with a deep population of blue,
The heaviness on my heart of a lighter branch almost spoils this beautiful view,
However, I can trust that this tree will never run from me,
It will stay rooted as promised; it will remain much longer than you

this depression
grips me like the rope thats soon to **** me
it's visible in my blank ****** expression
nothing is going to cure me
no one with a title, forget your medical profession
I believe its passed down genetically, chronological succession
but I don’t have my elders' strength, I’m choosing secession
leaving this place
but don’t call it regression,
because I own sole possession
of the knowledge that this life never gets better,
now do you understand? reading comprehension?
I became a master at hiding these feelings, skillful repression
and no I was never happy, there's my confession
how's that for a first impression?
in a world filled with prejudicial oppression and money hungry obsession
we’re G-d's material possession
unfortunately all the others will look on, intentional indiscretion
so yes, blame yourself, and discuss all the things you could've changed at my funeral *procession

the bottom of a bottle fails to satisfy my thirst for happiness

I have used all the energy left in my gaunt body to escape this bed

Now I travel down steps that creak with noises of our past love as we wore them out by always racing each other up them to get here

Now I trudge down these stairs, alone, into the kitchen as I let the white french doors swing open to let the spring breeze join me

The wind recoils off of my pale face as I hold the cheesy tourist coffee mug that still bares your lipstick on its brim

I return back to the table where I find the morning newspaper with a date on it that reveals I haven't left the house in quite some time

And I flip to the crossword puzzle that apparently you solved many weeks ago, but the clues are hidden as I now recall the day your pen exploded in boisterous blue ink and we laughed together as we scrubbed each other's hands

Sink water splashed all over and ruined your flowing white gown, but that was no issue as we danced like it was raining and my hand creeped along your collarbone onto your shoulder, until you slapped it away because it was time for work

After brief lapses of intoxicating joy, the color in the walls and outside the windows oozes down Earth's canvas to uncover the true flavor or black and gray that surround me

It's in this return to reality that I utilize my lasts bits of sanity and avoid the sleeping pills to enter back into my slumber

I make my way back up the hollowed-out steps that are void of love, and collapse back into this bed as I drown in it's disturbingly comfortable sheets and pillows

In a few hours I'll arise again to trudge down to the kitchen and see if you're there, smiling, singing, solving strenuous puzzles with your immeasurable skill

And on the precipice of madness, the brink of lunacy, I'll whisper your name so I can stop tip-toeing along the boarder of suicide

For in these repeating nightmares, my balance has grown weary, and for moments my only desire is to join you beneath society, and into the great beyond

*Goodnight

Dearest,
I realized that the most happiness we can experience in this world will not be found solely in another person, but within the places we allow ourselves to go.

If you ever get the chance to fly after the sun sets, take it.
Take it and look up as far as you can, before your nose touches the cold glass window.
The cities and suburbs below will try to compete,
But the sky always comes out on top.

I swear I've never seen so many stars.

algae infested,
they are both as shallow and
as deep as I am.

calm post-winter green
peppers the suburban scene
but I do not rest

It reminds me of:
the green eyes that once smiled,
So I called it love.

And the cold blue eyes
that left me jealous and weak.
he robbed me of spring.

The amount of people that I’ve scoped
through my own lenses, mirrored with optimism
weighed against the reality of who people are
beneath their cotton t-shirts is immeasurable.
I want everyone in my picture frame,
and I’ll twist the moral ladder to get there,
because I’ve been taught, ever since I was a little girl
in ballet shoes with my hair coiled neatly at my neck,
that there is far more beneath the glitter. That the light
can be blinding and it takes more than a promising silhouette
to bring people back into the good. I’ve slept with molted men
who’ve slithered into my bed on a nice compliment
and an “original” idea, and I’ve kissed their sore parts
hoping that the sweetness would pour from the cracks
in my lips and be absorbed by their scales. I’ve taken
triple chances on people who said I’ll do better,
and that they’d be better if only I could blush their cheeks
with my own electricity. I’ve harvested the sliver of memories
from each relationship I’ve kindled and melted them
into a ***, letting people sip the potion for themselves
and find a special, solemn rebirth in the wake of my aftermath.
I don’t know how
to have a conversation without saying thank you, or really,
you’re being too kind, when really I’m the one who’s flicked kindness
from my fingers like leftover water. I’m the one
who’s branded her own version of band-aids, who's healed
those who I could fit in a tiny shoebox back to their own
self-proclaimed hugeness. I’ve beaten myself down to ***** clay,
and that’s why you

have found it so easy to mold me. It’s why I lay your socks out in the morning,
why I drive my mind back and forth in my sleep, why I’ve always been able to rock
your pretty little heart back to me. You captured the remaining ember
left drowning in the wax and made a model of who I used to be
before I let everyone else wear me down.