Trying to find the words
that will mend the hurt
To smooth the pain
to render wisdom
and understanding
into a soft salve
to rub onto
the open wound

Wincing
as you turn away
reaching out for you
but recieving
a single,
over the shoulder
glance
and a slight wave

as my stomach
tightens into knots,
several bound together,
squeezing the life out of me
the vivacious thing that once
made me as colorful as an
Andy Warhol print

Smiling with joy
twisting with sadness
oh what a tangled
Massive
web we weave

Dear Love,
Even though you
are not here next to me
your presence lingers
I feel you when I go to sleep

Your scent lingers
when I move the blanket
or roll over on the sheets
I miss your warmth
as I curl up into a ball

Anticipating
your soft embrace
pulling me into your chest
My face snuggled
comfortably at your collar

I drift peacefully off to sleep
knowing that you're holding me
that I am safe

I miss the way you look at me
when you tell me
how much I mean to you

I miss the way you laugh,
the way you kiss,
the way you breathe

I miss your vitality for life
your spontaneity
The way you love me

I miss your face,
your hair,
your body,
your hands,
everything.

I won't be able
to go to sleep
until I hear your voice again
and I will wait impatiently
for the day I'll see
your car in my parking lot
to come to visit

I miss you, Bear.
And I know you are as eagerly
awaiting seeing me as I am you,
and know that it is probably
a more intense nostalgia
for you,
you hopeless romantic,
but who am I, as the ***?
to call the kettle black?

I'm rambling as always.
Call me soon,
I love you
~Your Angel

I reach for my heart
and find that it's not there
there's a space where it used
to belong with a note
left in its spot

"I've run away from home
Please don't expect me back
any time soon. I do love you,
but I feel safer in the protection
of his arms"

As I set the note down
with a soft sadness
I hear
a knock
at my door
Snapping out of my anxious gloom,
Rushing to the door
expecting it to be my heart
returned to me

I open it...
but instead of my heart
I see his, his heart
reaching out its arms to me

I pick it up carefully,
cradling it in my arms
it seems to beam with
a warm happiness

It notices the hole
where my heart once was
It motions towards it
and I explain that my heart
had left me

His heart seemed to smile
and gently nestled itself
into the hole that
my own heart had left
completing my
circulatory system
pumping my blood
feeling my veins alive
with strong vitality

As I am a part of you,
You are a part of me

I feel like:
I'm yelling
at a brick wall
with my hand
over my mouth

As if I were
to remove my hand
that it would make a
difference

but it wouldn't

You still wouldn't hear.
You would continue to
talk AT me in that
condescending tone

arguing with you
is superfluous
you just think you're right
arguing logically
with an illogical person
is illogical

and when you are
backed into a corner
you yell
and then claim
to be hurt

in an effort to gain
an apology
UNWARANTED

You stomp your feet
and slam things down
on the counter
like a five year old child
and expect me
to take you seriously

And when you walk
into that door
and accuse me of
the stupidest things
then expect me not to
"get an attitude"
it ****** me off to no end

That's why I shut off,
Mother.
That's why I don't talk to you.
When I tell you to leave me alone
because

I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT

it means that I don't want to hurt you
by saying these things
and that I love you,
but I hate dealing with the way
you handle situations that you don't like.

It's not fair to the other person
because you
Barrel through their retaliations
with senseless *******
that only makes sense to you

and if no apology comes,
you obsess until you come up
with this ******* conclusion
that is over-thought
and entirely untrue

I'm not pregnant, you idiot.
And just because I don't want to talk to you
doesn't make whatever is wrong ABOUT you
and don't make it about you.
because you do. all the ******* time.

You still treat me like I'm ten years old
and you have this assured power over me
you want to take back the presents you bought me?
fine. do it. I'm not materialistic, so all it proves is your
pettiness.

I wish you could hear the malice dripping in your tone
aimed specifically just to hurt me
thanks, Mom.
I appreciate it on my BREAK.
But it's not a break with you
******* at me 24/7.

I can't wait to go back to school and
be stressed out there instead.
At least I don't have to worry about
hostility when I'm in my own room.

And by the way, learn how to knock.

Shake it all up
and put it in a jar
and maybe then
it won't get as far

Down
deep into me
these feelings
that I try to bleed out
naturally

through my tears
salt-ridden and ragged
This thing is eating through me
like putrid little maggots

It's like an acid
eating away
at all of the love,
rot and decay

I'm not me
anymore can't you see?
I'm an empty shell
that you see on TV

Smiling

I fake it
like all the others
saying hello to you
not talking to my mother

Because out of everyone
I talk to
she would know
she would get a clue
to the fact that
I seem to be different than
I used to

Be,
To be or not
to be merely in existence
suspended in space
the gravity is affecting me
pulling at my face

Pulling it down
into this permanent
frown
I can't look up and I can't
look down
at the ground
at my feet
that don't feel sound

I wobble,
and I can't stand straight,
there's a film in my eyes
and a limp in my gait

I'm ill
I don't know the disease
but what's even more sad:
I don't know the cure

I am on the edge of what I think is reality
Somewhere between a suspended state
of illusion, and the backlash
of shattering, sobering, breathtaking truth

It's on the tip of my tongue
and I can taste the faint, sweet, dull
sensation that
I think is the sugar coating

I have to break past it,
see past it,
taste past it
Like the black coffee
beneath the layers
of milky sugar and cream

To somehow break it apart
seperate the black, bitter, reflective surface
from it's murky counterparts

Banging on a one way mirror
I can see myself
but what lies on the other side
is a hidden,
mass of intimacy
hiding and masked

masked, as the taste of sugar masks the
bitterness of my coffee
as I drink and ponder
the wonders of my universe
and why I am able to type these words
and yet not have any grasp
on whether or not they are real
if I am real
...

I think therefore I am.
Descartes put it simply,
but my thoughts are the only thing
that can be proven to be real in any sense
because they exist without me
because: in essence, I am defined by what I record
and I record my thoughts

So, the mask unravels
the thoughts unfurl
the mysteries of the universe tumble
intangible to this being who
believes she exists
on the brink of reality

It's too hard to have hope
when you can't see through the fog,
When you turn around:
you can't see anything at all

It's too hard to burn a candle
in the cold and slanted rain,
There are too many raindrops
and only one flame

It's too hard to see you crying
when I can't stand the pain,
there's too much hurt inside me
the feelings that you've slain