Talk,
To me.
Tell Me,
the things you've kept locked up for weeks.
Please,
I beg of you to open up.
But,
As I type this you become more closed off.
I Feel,
believe it or not I do.
I bleed,
that too.
I won't,
Bleed for you though.
Not,
In that way.
I won't,
Ruin myself that way yet again.
I won't,
Betray my hard-won stability for a little relief.

Driving through roads I haven't gone before, rain drops scattering on my windshield,
A sudden ache flooded my veins, my bones.
I unexpectedly felt a rush of homesickness.
I desired to see the mountains where I spent my favorite times with you.
That was when I began splitting,
That was when you began dying,
But we were together.
Those drizzly days, walking around, exploring places you'd never heard of, and places I'd dreamt of since the day I'd last left.
I haven't missed that place in a long time,
Ever since the desire to be there was overshadowed with the desire to escape nightmares associated with those mountains, and those unrelenting stars, but not with you.

You taught me a few things there.
You taught me how to be silent with you and with the stars.
You taught me how to actually enjoy that silence.
You taught me how even the most familiar of places are the most unknown.
You taught me how to have fun with matches without hurting myself (at least intentionally.)

Those mountains stuck with me, week after week, after month, after we left.
The snow and the cold, even in July, forcing us back to the car, but not until after we explored and shared Dad's camera.
The chipmunks loving you more than they loved me, eating out of your palm and crawling all over you, while I took more pictures, stuck with me too.
I don't know how we survived that trip as I fell stupid in love and you climbed into your sacred, secret tower, with Mel, that I couldn't quite reach.

But it's days like Saturday that remind me of all we gained on that trip.
We can just sit, in silence, with each other, my head on top of yours, and feel completely at peace with each other.
Even if not at peace with the rest of the world.

I managed to survive the last week of September without you, still stung with disbelief.
I got through October dazed and drunk, smoking more than ever before.
Through November ended mistakes brought from October's drunken nights, but brought more pain than I could breathe through, or bleed out.
December flourished without you, made me believe that maybe this would all get easier.
January continued flourishing, but heavy bricks rained down upon my head, conjuring up wishes that you were here to help.
February started the distractions, the utter confusion, and brought back the inklings of pain.
Without you, I got through the endless amounts of stress that March dragged in and out of my heart, and I reached goals without you there to hold my hand.
But April, I narrowly escaped. I barely took a solid breathe that wasn't tinged with a thought of you all month. I didn't go a night without questioning your existence, and mine. Seeing you for the first time since that last week in September destroyed me.
And now, May, I know I can remain living without you, but it won't be without you on my mind. The memories of this month will haunt me, just like last month's haunted me. But I'll scream, cry, curse past the pain and walk into June with a confident smile.

We were so close to seeing the sunrise!
Well, not really.
It was 3 o' clock
and my eyelids felt like cinder blocks.

But it felt close.

It could have been a picture perfect moment.
Well, not really.
Pictures are never perfect,
and besides,
my thumb would have been in the shot.

How neatly a cat sleeps,
Sleeps with its paws and its posture,
Sleeps with its wicked claws,
And with its unfeeling blood,
Sleeps with ALL the rings a series
Of burnt circles which have formed
The odd geology of its sand-colored tail.

I should like to sleep like a cat,
With all the fur of time,
With a tongue rough as flint,
With the dry *** of fire and
After speaking to no one,
Stretch myself over the world,
Over roofs and landscapes,
With a passionate desire
To hunt the rats in my dreams.

I have seen how the cat asleep
Would undulate, how the night flowed
Through it like dark water and at times,
It was going to fall or possibly
Plunge into the bare deserted snowdrifts.

Sometimes it grew so much in sleep
Like a tiger's great-grandfather,
And would leap in the darkness over
Rooftops, clouds and volcanoes.

Sleep, sleep cat of the night with
Episcopal ceremony and your stone-carved moustache.
Take care of all our dreams
Control the obscurity
Of our slumbering prowess
With your relentless HEART
And the great ruff of your tail.