If not to touch the earth
and know your sun kissed skin,
if not to chase your shadow
through every place you've been.

If not to stand on mountains,
howling from the peaks,
if not to lie in fields
as melodic whispers weep.

If not to dance in forests
where tangled roots take hold,
if not to bathe in oceans
while eternities unfold.

If not to touch the earth,
upon me you would shine
and for that fleeting moment
I could call you mine.

I'm sitting in my living room replaying everything you said to me, and thinking, no matter the amount of brutal words used you would have never hurt me the way he did
the way he put my hands on me-
the amount of times i have counted the clouds on our tacky living room wallpaper, my heart and stomach are not positioned correctly and I can hear me telling you no, no, no repeatedly
but you not being able to hear because desire has taken over your whole body and replaced it as the only thing you know best.
I may not be full of much faith at this point, but the one thing I do agree with is how Jesus forgave his prosecutors.
I will forgive you but I will never forget
I will not forget the words you whispered, the
way you thought it was ok-
the emotional scars on my body and mind will live on to tell the tale of that night in full detail, but I will keep scrubbing my body, and washing my hands until the dirt I can see is no longer visible.
I will look into the eyes of the next boy I think I love and question whether or not he will hurt me the way you did-
the skeleton in my closet will have to come out eventually, but every time I reopen that door I will be faced with the sad reality that is life.

It is all about perspective.
the glass half empty half full,
a birds eye view,
wearing someone else's shoes as your own,
For a very long time life without you was miserable- but then I realized this idea was biased.
you were out there, looking at the same stars, walking the same streets- things that brought me contentment,
I soon realized missing you was half of the battle, and that knowing you were still seeing things the way I saw them was the other half.
We will live these lives that parallel each other, just as we did before we met in the summer.
We will love different people just as we did before we knew each other's names.
You will glance up at the sun and chills will shoot down your spine because you will remember my golden hair and you will be confused as to how a non-living thing could remind you of a time in your life where there was so much life, so much love.
       "How could things be so different"
And I? well, I will find you in every living and non-living thing that comes along and I will thank the sky for not falling apart when we were together. I will thank the sea for not overflowing. I am thankful that we got the chances we did, although the timing may have been wrong.

My future just dialed in with terrible news
the world was ending and there was nothing I could do
and I was shocked to find it was not because you left,
it was not jesus coming back to name my sins
the answer to this question, and many more, is inside each individual
like a philosopher, I often peel back surface layers in hopes there is something beneath what I fear most, I  think about the past and future as if an oracle put me to it-
I scan, ponder and reminisce on all of the mysteries I have unfolded and the ones awaiting me
to believe there is something better beyond my knowledge limits my willingness to adventure
I must find the better, the good of it all, and let it devour me-
I must crawl into the depths of the volcanoes and stay with the sacrificed,
I must give my enemies a piece of myself to feel whole again.

One must test limits to know where they stand in relation to who they will become.
-Every answer can be answered with a simple self examination.

"Alcoholics don't get very far unless you drink and drive"
that is what he told me, gripping the bottle, leaving sweaty palms and cold sweats visible to the people who cared for him the most.
that is all I saw  
this is the life of an alcoholic, the life of someone suffering from second hand alcoholism, both leave the same aching feeling after seeing the bottle empty.
7 months and counting- you are conquering your fears of public speaking and facing yourself in the mirror.

It is time to conquer my mirrored reality
It is painful to even begin coughing up the words that have left me cotton mouthed in the past, but there is no doubt in my mind you have had more demons to face than I ever will.
a confession to late to be made- but I will spit it out even if it comes out in tongue so that my soul may rest easy

The source of the issue has gone through hell to pull the sword from the rock.
but, nevertheless, you hurt me in ways I thought were only possible in stupid sitcoms.
unintentionally, but painfully, you left your little girl vulnerable and too wise for her own good and for this I applaud you,
Because we all know addiction doesn't fall far from the tree

they tell me I break hearts and it doesn't hurt so is it really the truth?
I think there is something that cancels out the breaking- that thing being me. I am the knot of chain you call a necklace, I am a game with half of the pieces missing, a puzzle piece with bent corners. I tend to make the boys swoon with a swift use of the vocabulary I have been studying since the third grade.
I'm sorry,
I would bring a knife to a gun fight to prove that I am worthy of something. maybe. I hope I am.
I know the people I tend to love have a certain taste, an interesting demeanor that leaves me wanting more. but that more is never enough to last me
it quickly runs out, and my attention is turned elsewhere.
from the outside looking in I would have to believe by now my heart is very small, and in its state now would be of tremendous value. I have given so much to the winds that I have very little left to spare. I give and retract in fear that someone will abuse what I place in their hands and I will turn to dandelion dust
just a quick wish blown into the wind to become again who I once was.

Something about a figure casted on the wall, an image painted black,
A poorly displayed animation of a concrete object.

I was 10 when cars passed by and projected shadows on my ceiling, the
Distorted images paired with a faded sound of night life filled my room and kept me from dreaming.
a sense of nostalgia enwrapped my body,
From that point on I realized my whole life would be dedicated to chasing
After things that have already let go of me.

Looking at year 14-
Shadows replaced parents,
Imagination turned them into
Something tangible, nothing but uncanny
Resemblances between the two.

I was 17 when I encountered love,
He was warm, gentle, and open-ended;
Letters could not form enough words to describe what he made me feel.
I saw shadows in his absence. I named them Guilt.

Present day: throughout this life I have come to find that our demons often
Take shape of shadows, unfortunately that is how they found me.
I have learned through built education that shadows often depict
What our subconscious is unwilling to tell us.
I have lived my whole life thinking these shadows
Were winning, when they were simply a figure of imagination.
A figure of temptation,
Your shadows are not who you are, they are what they want you to be.