Remember when you told me you had never seen snow?
Somewhere so far away, so unknown to my own Northern tendencies
Obviously wouldn't know frigid temperatures like this.
While you dreamed of drowning yourself in rushing waves,
I fantasized about being buried under the blanket of a blizzard.

But, darling, I wanted you to know the beauty of snow,
For nothing else can glimmer so beautifully while it suffocates you.
So I wrote you a story about you and I in the snow.
I can't remember where I placed it so long ago.
It must have been taken when you were ripped from my arms.

Q: Why should I care for dance competitions or cupcakes or make-up or grades?**

A: Because otherwise, there is nothing to distract from the futility. Nothing to obscure the purposeless fatigue. No vines to ensnare your ankles. Nothing to bind you to the cold earth and spinning tides, becoming all too easy to unstrap your wings and run from the roof, no longer forced to fly.

Without the superficial, I would have already died.

every time i hear your voice all i can think about is that moment when my lips brushed against yours and you were suddenly alive in a way i had never seen before but maybe just maybe when we pull pack you'll take me in your arms and not leave you won't leave because you promised we can just stay wrapped up in the same sheets that used to suffocate you and while words spill from my lips you can paint them atop the music you've always loved so much but then i open my eyes and *you're not there

i can't tell you the number of times i've wanted to take back what i've said before the words had even left my mouth

I miss your writing
And at the latest hours of the night
I toss and I turn
Pleading for more words
Less anguish
O! this horrid waiting to know
What it is that weighs upon
Your beautiful soul
And I lay awake as the sun
Sits upon the horizon
Creeping up, killing the night sky
I think of not just your poems
But of you
Wondering how my friend
Could possibly be out in this
Altogether too large of a world
But when I say that I am missing
Your poetry
What I'm really saying is
I miss you

I was always fascinated by echoes,
Even long before I understood them.
To call out for help, and finally have someone respond,
Now that was a miracle in my naive eyes.

When I got older I traveled more.
I explored new places with hills and valleys.
The echos stayed constant, they always responded.
The echos brought me false comfort, and I thought they would keep me alive.

Now I have led myself into a cave.
The echoes are louder here, yes,
But they do not bring me comfort as the once did,
The echoes leave me as cavernous as the place I stood.

A droplet of water falls from the ceiling as a tear runs down my face.
Boulders fall as I collapse in on myself.
Because as I stood there listening for echoes,
I realized I would rather hear your voice instead.

do you dissociate too?

do you find yourself floating in space?
not on a gentle cloud or on the wings of a soaring eagle,
but on my own, supported by just air as i lose my head.

do you find yourself underwater?
not drowning but not breathing either.
the water rushes in my ears and the voices beside me are muffled
so i am left on my own with only my thoughts to accompany me.

do you find yourself gliding above ground?
i work through motions and play like a puppet on strings.
my feet never touch the ground while my head lolls on my shoulders.

my ears are plugged, my hands are clasped to still them.
the noise of the whole world is attacking me but i cannot decipher a word.
do you dissociate too?
please don't tell me i'm the only one.