I think I was thirteen
when I shipped myself out
to the sea of solitude
since then I've tried rowing
back to shore but
currents of discontent
are hard to fight
inevitably I gave in
to the candy-coated
pills and powders
and the minty fresh breath
of men lurking in corners
almost as sweet as sanity
eventually I overdosed on emotions
but I was only trying
to rid myself of feeling
since I was never good
at walking on the tightrope
between wanting and reality
at this point I don't know
who to apologize to
since Hallmark doesn't have cards
for sincere self loathing

it's just that
some days it's really hard
to keep your voice even
when your mother asks
if you're slipping

They build as if we want them
Houses
Places
Prisons with no hope

Layers of life before me
Hide the hidden
Hidden from our view

Workers paid to pay the workers
Slaves to the
Slaves

This is our life
We call it
Laughing life in our face

What hope is held against
us
Fed us every day
The green that is our Soylent

Remember this one day

I blinked and three days went by. Three whole days I didn't cry.
Maybe three or maybe it was four. I don't usually keep track of these things.
I just blinked.
I just blinked and woke-up.
Your memories still dances in my head... A lot.
Maybe four or maybe five times a day. I don't usually keep track of these things.

I am more at peace, though the grief still lingers. I hold onto what I can of you. Of the memory of you.
I don't want to lose any of it. Your eyes, your laugh, the way you talked with your hands, all of it I cling to like an elixir. It's my elixir to keep the sadness at bay. Holding onto these moments, these sacred moments, so they don't ever fade away.

If your essence is lost to me, I think I might die. Let myself wither. And not a day will go by
Where I won't cry for the ditch that is left inside of me, where your memory was. With my elixir all dried-up, not a single day will go by. Not a day where I won't cry. Certainly not three or four.
I will start to keep track of these things.

Because that's all I'll have to fill the ditch with.
No sand or sea will be quite rich enough to fill this space. This space meant for abstract emotions, not things.
We call it our heart, but our heart is just a thing. Just a thing that pumps another thing round and round and round. Just a thing that helps us breathe. A thing that one day stops. It quits on us when we're in the ground.
So why would I let this thing hold onto you? I won't.

I'll keep your memory in every space, in my soul.
You'll live on and on, and wild and free.
You'll live forever, and you'll live in me.
I'll keep my grief elixir and fight forgetfulness away.
So there will be no ditch.
In my soul-space you will stay.

For all of us who know the pain

Of Valentines that never came