the mirror reveals
an uncomfortable truth:
my biggest villain

No. Worse than that.
She loved you in every single one, just not ours.
She cared for me once in all my life when it benefitted her.
And cast you out when it was convenient to save you.
She loved us in all but one.
And we got the shortest straw...

Sometimes I simply can't breathe
Or that's what it feels like to me

And he's not here anymore to point out
That if I can talk to him I'm breathing
That the loud noise in my ears is the air
Rushing in and punching out

He's not here anymore to remind me
It's my mind playing tricks and
Perception is key and its
Just my anxiety

It's funny how
It's easier to open my skin
Then to open my mouth
And ask for help

when the sun goes down
behind the trees
and locks her shutters tight

the moon comes out
with silver keys
to open up the night

i am not a poet,

nor am i a poem.

i am not a writer,

nor a book.

i am not a painter,

nor a painting.

i am not a sculptor,

nor a sculpture,

i  am not the artist,

nor the muse.

i am an idea,

that exists

only

in your imagination

All alone
  in my humble study
  I read until late hours-
   religiously

   to another realm
   I am transported- mysteriously :
   daily it has become my sanctuary
   and from my sorrows it sets free

ten years,
too late.

ten years—

and there's
no debate:

i will do
everything

to not be

like you.

i'm no saint,

but i know
when enough
is enough

and to draw
a line,

before it's
too late.

people come
and people go;

and i've come
to terms with
forgiving

and letting
go.

but in the midst of
it all, i hope
to be better

than to
risk it all.

because impressions
are forever,

and

i've learned
to forgive you
and move past it

rather than fall.