I write "you exist"
on the fragility of my wrist
because I need to remind myself
that this isn't a nightmare
and life has good parts too.

I need these words to fetter me
as if I were something solid
because I haven't felt that lately

I am the dead leaf
detached from branches
broken off from life

I am the echo in the mountain
too late
belonging to no one

I am the carving on the tree trunk
a reminder of a love already gone
fading, unnoticed

I am the falling star
burning, blazing
dead a million years.

I am nothing
but I exist.

I exist.

Long sleeves in May,
but we never knew.
I wish that I had gone up to you
and asked,
why you wore so many bracelets.

You said you didn't eat at school.
And we believed you,
like such fools.
Too much respect, but not enough.

No one ever told you
what you mean to them.
They all forgot to mention
how the stars would grow dim
without you, the world is not as bright.
Maybe in your heaven,
you'll finally sleep tonight.

They talk about you
now and then,
and the way that things could have been.
Hushed whispers
behind closed doors.

You felt out of time and out of joy.
Out of breath,
the rope deployed.
Your world was cold.
Your hands were numb.
Razor lines, where you just wanted to feel something,
and now you'll never feel again.

No one ever told you
what you mean to them.
They all forgot to mention
how the stars would grow dim
without you, the world is not so bright.
Maybe in your heaven,
you'll have some peace tonight.

Yellow flowers everywhere.
You wore a dress,
they combed your hair.
And you, are fast asleep.

Salt was painted on my face.
We watched you fall.
Amazing Grace.
And I can't go back,
and change the past.

But I wish that I had told you
what you mean to me.
I guess I forgot to mention this
before you fell on your knees.
Because you are beautiful.
And you made my world bright.
Now you'll be in heaven,
but I won't sleep tonight.

In the alphabet, there are 26 letters: 5 vowels and 21 consonants.
In the English language alone, there are over 600,000 words all made up of these consonants and vowels.
So many words.
So many things already said too many times and too little.
Originality is something to be desired;
Because I won't be the hundredth person that day to tell you that everything will be okay.
It will all work out.
You're fine.
You'll get over it.

No.

600,000 words in the English language and I'm left stumbling for the right ones just to try to make you smile again.
There's not more fish in the sea because they were your ocean.
You won't be with them again soon because you need to live a long life! even if they couldn't.
The sun won't be brighter tomorrow; it will shine just the same.
And I'm sorry.
When you shot for the moon you couldn't reach the stars, but maybe next time if you shoot for the stars you'll be caught by the moon.

This world is full of things unspoken and words not said even when they need to be poured out like alphabet soup we leave them in the can.
Because it's taboo or rude, there are times when "you just don't say those things" no matter how true they may be.
I could write you a novel of the things that I believe to be correct but that won't make the pain go away.

A picture is worth a thousand words and heartbreak is worth a million.
I just don't have anything useful to fill in those spaces where the words are supposed to go.

In the alphabet, there are 26 letters: 5 vowels and 21 consonants.
In the English language alone, there are over 600,000 words all made up of these consonants and vowels.
And I can't think of a single one to say to you.

The first death that I can remember was when I was three years old. It was some great great aunt of mine who I did not know. All I remember was the hospital.

The next was a half uncle who I had just barely met. A long lost brother ripped from the world by lungs turned black.
I remember crying; I was seven.

When I was twelve my grandfather had a stroke and we went to the hospital eight hours away to say goodbye just in case.
There was no just in case about it.
Just a tired man in a hospital bed who's eyes I never saw open again.
I remember standing up front at the funeral so people could shake my hand and apologize for my loss.  
There was the faint taste of salt at the corner of my lip stretching up my face.

A friend of mine lost five kids from her school last year. I didn't know what to say to her.
Because how can you tell someone that life goes on when for some people it doesn't?
How do you console the living who are trying to console the dead?

The pitter and the patter,
The pounding on your door.
The slight leak in the roof
That drips on the floor.
The sweet smell of earth
With an afternoon chill.
The world is unquite,
And nature unstill.