i've resorted
pinching myself
in moments of uncertainty.
am i alive?
am i dreaming?
am i anything?
is this real?
questions
of existance
i makea my heart ache
and leave red marks
on my skin
just to know
is this real?
am i actually with you
was that smile really mine
in those moments of today
in hours, minutes, seconds...
pain seems to bring me back.
and i'm the tall tale fairy tale
in a worn out
forgotten book
that the librarians have decided
to give away for free
and it sits
and it sits
and it's lost, forgotten, not wanted
and it moves on
to some celestial recycling plant
to become something else
reincarnation,
but it all comes back down to
is this real
or am i just dreaming
because i am that forgotten
unlucky worn down book
and if someone gives me a chance
a read
i want to know.
pinching
is a test.

i long
for your arm
perched on my shoulder
like how a bird perches on it's home.
i want to be a safe place for you
i want to be a home,
not your home
but a home.
someplace where
you can perch
i can stay put, with you
and we can sit.
so my dear
chickadee
don't fly away.
just perch.

oh confidentiality
makes me stop
makes me think
i pause.
and i knock myself up
another peg
on stress.
i have open ears
but
when one's heart is
sometimes an eternal winter
there's a slippery *****.
and people can fall fast.

roses are red
violets are blue
how i wish you knew
the way i hold you
as i've said
you have no clue
only i wish
i can only hope
you do.

on friday
i'll pour myself a drink
of one part sadness
and two parts loneliness.
and i'll lock myself in my tower
a mock Rapunzel left waiting.
(my hair is too short anyway.)
and i'll spend friday
alone.

i guess
what hurts the most
is the fact
when i talk to you
i feel something
and i feel like you don't.
maybe you brought her up
to see what i'd say
maybe you continue to bring her up
to see what i'll do.
i like you.
and i can
scream it into my pillow
type it on worn out computer keys.
i like you.
i like you.
i like you.
repetitive motions
and sounds.
i can scream until i'm blue in the face
or until my keys no longer work.
i like you.
i like you.
but if i were to ever come face to face
and actually tell you
i would suffocate on the words
and my fingers would fall still.
i like you.
but those three words,
could ruin me.

suit me up in sadness.
and let it go unnoticed.
i'm given a
personal rain cloud
when i'm fifteen.
2011
deemed to be a hard year.
death seemed to rain about.
2012 wasn't much better.
death seemed to be a theme.
and i started to be weighed down
by the constant
blackness that absorbed my soul
and so i let it.
i let it eat the sunlight
the light in my eyes.
and let myself be sad.
so i began to draw
express myself
in secret ways
and secret
marks.