Your bottom lip is quivering,
As if the moment is weighing down upon it.
Hold it in, darling.

Your hands are intertwined with your tattered sleeves,
As if the more you fidget, the less you will feel.
Hold it in, darling.

Your eyes are taking on that glassy look,
The one always followed with silent tears.
Hold it in, darling.

Your voice is beginning to waver,
As your words run into each other, fumbling out of your mouth.
Hold it in, darling.

Your gaze is fixed upon an insignificant crack on the wall,
As if staring at it long enough will give everything less meaning.
Hold it in, darling.

She's telling you that there are people who care for you, that you aren't alone,
As if they could ever truly understand.
Hold it in, darling.

She's asking you how you feel, she want's you to talk about it,
As if saying how you feel would make it any better, it won't.
Hold it in, darling.

Somewhere between the onesided conversation, some sort of closure was reached,
As if you even opened up in the first place.
Hold it in, darling.

Now you're all alone in the cold, small office, getting ready to leave.
As if you had been present in the first place.
Hold it in, darling.

Don't ever let them see you cry,
Save your tears for the middle of the night,
And until then,
Hold it in, darling.

Every time I try to write about you,
I can't.
I want to say something,
Anything,
About you.
And I want it to be both beautiful
And sad.
I want it to ****** your image
Onto the paper,
I want to reflect your very demeanor,
Through my words.
I want to create a prose
So touching,
And harsh,
That all my other works
Wither up
And become stale.
I want to taste you,
Feel you,
Smell you,
Hear you,
See you,
In my writing.
And then,
After it's complete.
After I have exhausted all my capabilities,
After you are vulnerable,
And raw.
After my name is scrawled at the bottom left hand corner,
And yours, at the top, centered.
I want to take it in my hands,
Tear it into a million tiny pieces,
And throw it into the fire.
Watching it burn,
Slowly,
Yet only for a moment.
I want to make this feeling I have tangible,
Only so I can destroy it.
But it's still thriving, right out of my reach.
And every time I try to write about you,
I can't.

We've murdered "Goodbye"
With our ball point pens and summer vacations.
Now all that's left of it is a shell,
A crater created by etiquette and empty promises.
We've stuffed it full of double intentions,
Filled it with unspoken "I love you"s, and "I'm sorry"s.
Our fear of leaving has left its muddy handprint
On the innocence of closure.
We've dragged it by it's syllables,
Drawing out each letter until the sound becomes muffled and obscure,
The very epitome of all it stands for.
Goodbye should be whispered in the final moments of one's presence,
Not proclaimed in shopping malls and late night diners.
The more we try to save it,
The further it sinks into causality.
The deeper that we engrave it,
The more goodbye parts with reality.

"There are two kinds of things in life,
Those I hate
And those I don't care about."

She chewed the lid of her coffee cup.
Wrapped her fingers up in her sleeves.
Nervously.
Talking too fast,
As if afraid if she thought about what she said,
She would no longer to say it.

She talked about Africa.
It was one of the things she cared about
/hated.
"I don't understand how they live in such poverty, and we can just sit here drinking coffee."

Her companion asked her what she would do, if she was in their situation.

"**** myself."

She said softly.
Unaware she was whispering.

"Not that I want to **** myself now, I mean I don't care enough to do that. Besides I think I would be too afraid."

She replied, even though only silence had followed her first answer.
She turned her attention to the now tattered sleeve,
Of the cold coffee.
Looking at it as if it had all the answers in the world
Tucked between its cardboard grooves.

"I think I think too much, about not thinking"

Silence

"I mean, the more I think, the more depressed I become. But if I try to stop thinking, I become depressed that not thinking is the only way to happiness and..."

She stopped talking.
Aware that some things are better off in your head.
Probably afraid that her listener would disagree and force her to elaborate.
Afraid of what she would say.

The rest of the car ride was silent.
Full of casual small talk regarding the clouds, and how sales are always better after holidays.

She fidgeted with her sunglasses, the coffee cup still on her lap.
Her mouth remained partially open,
As if she was about to say something,
But couldn't bring herself to making any sound.

The car pulled to a stop at the mall.
She got out, hesitating for a moment,
As if to pull herself together.
She took a deep breath.
Unconscious of what she was doing.
Tossed the coffee cup to the ground.
Then walked off to join her friend.
Pretending to care.

You're broken down.
I understand.
For I was once like
You.

You've given up.
Been dealt your hand.
Nothing that lasts
Is true.

You've lost your way.
The North Star's faded.
Now city lights
Guide you.

You're all alone.
Inside you're head.
Feeling that death is
Overdue.

There's nothing much,
That I can say,
That wouldn't come off
Faded.

All I can do,
Is think if you.
And hope that your mind
Makes it.

Tonight's a night for going out.
For red lipstick, a shade too dark.
Don't be nervous my dear, they'll all love you,
As long as you remember all your lines,
And don't forget to smile.

Tonight's a night for going out.
For wearing that new black dress.
Don't be afraid, you'll fit right in,
As long as you remember not to eat,
And don't forget to smile.

Tonight's a night for going out.
For splashing your face with cold water.
So no one will notice you've been crying,
As long as you remember to hold your breath,
And don't forget to smile.

Tonight's a night for going out.
For unlit cigarettes and etiquette.
They'll understand you when you speak,
As long as you remember to keep quiet,
And don't forget to smile.

Tonight's a night for selling your soul
And don't forget to smile.

What is life but an accumulation of fleeting moments
That are too soon banished into the realm of yesterday.
The sunset isn't prejudice towards the night,
Instead it welcomes it in all it's faded glory.
Don't get caught up in the process of thought.
Give in to all that beckons you,
For time is only relevant in retrospect.