The worst thing about this kind of sadness
is not being able to eat or move or
write
and you can't just snap out of it
or maybe you just don't want to
because you're sort of getting used to it
and you don't know who you would be
without it

Never let an illness define who you are
otherwise when the pills start working
you'll end up with an empty body
a shell without a soul
and no words to describe
what you've been through

As I blew out the candles on my birthday cake
I wished for happiness
five years in a row
and I was sure it never came true
until I looked at pictures I didn't remember taking
and at poems I didn't remember writing
and realized I could've been happy all along
if only I hadn't focused that much on my sadness

Flowers are growing
on my body where your hands
touched me last time.

How can I love you
if I even forget to
water my plants?

Leaving
wasn't part
of the deal.

There are seven clocks
in my room
because they help me remember
I am alive
but if I listen to
your heartbeat
I don't need a single one
*of them.

"Free yourself"
they say
but I don't know what it is
exactly
that I should free myself from.

They called me
cold and cynical and crazy
and all those other words
with a 'c'
that may or may not
actually
describe me.

"That's not how life works"
they said
but how am I supposed to know
how to live?
This is only my first life
after all.

If Woody Allen directed our life
(assuming there is something to call
"ours")
we would be going
to meet again in three
five
or ten
years
and we would be going
to have all the ***
we didn't have before
because I lost my mind
and you said
nevermind.

We would meet in a foreign country
in a cafè in Paris
or at a fancy dinner in London
and you would introduce me
to your fiancè
(as pretty as I've never been)
and I would tell you
I' didn't follow your advice
(when we were eighteen you told me
"don't you ever commit suicide").

I would recall that day
when you gave money to the man
playing the saxophone in the street
at night
and I would tell you
what I didn't have the guts to say
back then
(I love you and I need you)
and I would allow you to save me
this time.

You would kiss me on the lips
gently
like you did this morning
before stepping on the train
that was five minutes late
(and made me cry for 25 minutes afterwards)
and it would be just the same
only 10 years later
and I'll still be
a mess
and you'll still say
nevermind.